Vidarath stood tall, practically buzzing with chaotic energy, holding Equinox's AI core like it was the Holy Grail of nerddom.
"So here's the plan," he grinned. "We're going into the game. Not just logged in in. Equinox will convert our essence into pure binary, not just code. Binary. Clean. Elegant. Direct integration. That way, the system won't reject us like last time."
Nyxia blinked. "Wait, what last time?"
"Don't worry about it," Vidarath waved dismissively. "Different universe. Long story. Anyway, we're going in as NPCs, but not the kind that sit in a tavern and say one line forever. No, no. We're going in as neutral bosses. Mid-tier legends. Conversation triggers. Secret side quests. Optional fights that players fear and streamers worship. And guess what?"
He turned to each of them with a manic gleam.
"We're LARPING."
Nyxia raised an eyebrow. "You're making this up as you go, aren't you?"
"Oh, absolutely," Vidarath beamed. "Now roles. Nyxia, you're the Monarch of Shadows, last ruler of the Fallen Shadow Kingdom. Elegant. Elusive. Drenched in tragedy and dripping in edge."
Dr. Wagner sighed. "Let me guess. I'm a spooky doctor."
Vidarath grinned wider. "Correction. You are Dr. Mortalis Varn, the Plaguebound Archivist. Keeper of forbidden cures, bearer of the Pale Sigil. Your enemies die by your scalpel. Your allies fear your help. You speak only in cryptic warnings… and mildly condescending medical advice."
Wagner rubbed his temples. "Mein Gott."
"And I," Vidarath continued, striking a pose, "am The Wayward Pilot. Lost out of time. My titan, Chrono-Shear, wanders with me across digital deserts and broken skies. I am both legend and glitch."
He tapped on Equinox's core, and a glowing holographic customization menu burst to life in front of them.
Character Loadouts Materialize
Vidarath – The Wayward Pilot
His suit was a high-tech masterpiece, clearly inspired by Titanfall 2 but pushed far beyond military specs.Jet-black and iridescent, the armor shimmered with data-pulse filaments. Small gravitational nodes hovered around his shoulders like miniature satellites. His visor was shaped like an angular shard of glass, reflecting starlight even in shadow. Etched in fine silver lines were coordinates from across dimensions. On his back, a foldable mini-rig that transformed into wings or weaponry."Built this myself," he smirked. "Took two centuries and three paradoxes."
Nyxia – Monarch of Shadows
The Ashborn Armor wrapped around him like living darkness forged into plate. Spiked pauldrons bled mist. His cloak fluttered with its own sentience.Holstered at his sides were his twin aetherial handguns: Shadow's Requiem and Ebon Wrath sleek, humming with runes that pulsed like a second heartbeat."These are your new fangs," the blacksmith had whispered in his dream.Strapped across his back, the weapon that bent reality: Noctem's Veil an abyssal-black blade with silver veins, capable of shifting into a scythe, dagger, twin blades, or a massive greatsword at will. Its edge didn't cut it devoured.
Dr. Wagner – Mortalis Varn, Plaguebound Archivist
He stood like a shadowed sentinel.A two-piece black suit underneath a long, tattered cloak. A hood drawn low, with a gas mask modeled like Corvo Attano's but sleeker, sleeker. Sleek enough to terrify.The mask's lenses pulsed with soft green data light, scanning every movement in the room. Slung over his shoulder: a weathered leather medical bag engraved with alchemical sigils.On his belt: scalpels, syringes, and a clockwork injector rig that unfolded like a spider when deployed.His aura? Cold. Professional. Clinical. And absolutely unkillable.
As they all leaned in, admiring their forms and stats, Equinox pulsed brightly in the center of the room. The light cascaded over them, their shadows stretching impossibly long behind them.
Their auras clashed and blended Nyxia's suffocating darkness, Wagner's sterilized doom, and Vidarath's chaotic radiance. Together, it was like staring at the cover art of a game no one had the skill to beat.
Dr. Wagner exhaled slowly, staring at his profile. "You know... this is highly illegal."
Vidarath, already posing like a poster model, grinned. "Yeah. And also awesome as hell."
Nyxia simply smirked. "So when do we start?"
The room began to glow as Equinox initialized the digital dive.
"Now," said Vidarath, eyes gleaming. "Time to rewrite the game."
As Equinox began to hum with a deep, pulsing energy, the room around them trembled slightly. Reality was bending gently at first like a page curling in on itself.
"Alright," Vidarath said, standing in the center with his arms wide, "time to enter the code. Full conversion. Binary-level integration. Let's go, baby!"
Dr. Wagner muttered under his breath. "Let us hope zis does not vaporize our consciousness."
"Pfft," Vidarath replied. "We've survived worse. Remember the Chrono-Colosseum incident?"
"Ja. I still have nightmares about the Temporal Wombats."
"Focus!" Nyxia called, checking over his weapons one last time. "Everything looks stable."
But something was not.
Behind Nyxia, unnoticed by the others, Equinox's screen flickered violently for a second. Lines of corrupted code surged across the digital feed glitchy red and jagged black symbols that didn't belong. It was as if something had clawed its way in from an older version of reality. Something ancient.
A hidden subroutine embedded itself in Nyxia's data.
[CONDITION: TRIGGER | WHEN: "CROWN FALLS"][EXECUTE: TRANSFORMATION][INITIATE: NIGHTMARE PROTOCOL - MONARCH OVERRIDE][FORM: ENTITY: "THE HOLLOW KING"][ERROR… ERROR… CORRUPTION ACCEPTED]
The glitch vanished just as quickly, tucked beneath layers of pristine code.
None of them noticed.
The room exploded into light. Their bodies shattered like glass each fragment a line of code, each heartbeat a binary pulse. Vidarath laughed as he dissolved into the stream, Wagner simply grunted, and Nyxia
He froze for a microsecond.
He felt something. A whisper. Cold, ancient, and crawling. It brushed the back of his mind and said:
"You are the veil now."
Then it was gone.
[SHANGRI-LA FRONTIER: SERVER ACTIVE]
They reassembled within a swirling vortex of data, reforming pixel by pixel. The world around them finalized a breathtaking fantasy land, vivid with high-fidelity magic and terrain. Mountains floated in the sky, forests moved when no wind blew, and glowing rivers of liquid starlight cut through obsidian valleys.
Equinox's voice echoed across the horizon."Initialization complete. Welcome to Shangri-La Frontier: Beyond the Veil. Custom NPC parameters loaded. Enjoy your stay."
Vidarath landed in a triumphant crouch atop his titan Chrono-Shear, overlooking a burning wasteland where time itself stuttered.
"HA! God, I look cool!"
Dr. Wagner appeared calmly in the middle of a fog-choked cemetery, surgical tools at the ready, as spirits circled him whispering in tongues.
"Vell… zis is unsettlingly appropriate."
Nyxia manifested atop a throne of shadows in the heart of a ruined castle. His cape unfurled behind him like the wings of a sleeping dragon. The air around him felt heavier. Cold. Off.
Nyxia stood and looked around. "Everything looks… fine."
But the game world disagreed.
In a nearby terminal that only Equinox could see, an alert pulsed quietly.
[MONARCH OF SHADOWS - STATUS: UNSTABLE]
[ERROR: Alignment Drift Detected]
[WARNING: Player Data Contains: NIGHTMARE FORM
| LOCKED UNTIL CONDITION MET]
As they began moving into position Vidarath scouting the skies, Wagner setting up lore-based medical stations, and Nyxia preparing to meet "adventurers," Nyxia's reflection in a pool of dark water lingered too long.
His reflection… blinked after he did.
And its eyes were red.
A Few Hours Later
The Library Clan player, a diligent seeker of knowledge named Elara, had been tracking fragmented whispers buried deep within the game's lore. Her path led her through a shadow-draped forest, the trees warped and twisted like ink blots bleeding into the mist. Somewhere here, it was said, a legendary figure known as the Plaguebound Archivist held secrets that might illuminate the obscure mysteries of Shangri-La Frontier.
Elara's boots crunched on the brittle leaves as she spotted a solitary figure standing beneath a shattered stone archway tall, imposing, cloaked in black, the faint green glow of data pulsing from his gas mask lenses like eerie lanterns.
"Mortalis Varn?" she called out, her voice steady but edged with awe.
He turned slowly, the mask's lenses focusing on her. "You seek knowledge... or perhaps salvation," he said, his tone measured, clinical. "Few come here uninvited."
Elara stepped forward. "I'm looking into the origins of some peculiar figures rumored to traverse this world. Names like the Monarch of Shadows and the Wayward Pilot."
A low, dry chuckle escaped the Plaguebound Archivist. "Ah, those two…" He adjusted his cloak, the sound like whispered secrets. "The Monarch of Shadows is a phantom woven from dreams and nightmares, a blade in the darkness that no lore fully contains. His weapon… not merely steel but the void itself."
He glanced upward, as if recalling a memory only he could see. "The Wayward Pilot? A relic of a lost time, a wanderer caught between paradoxes and dimensions. His armor pulses with the whispers of stars long dead, and his wings can carry him through realms no others dare tread."
Elara's eyes widened. "Why don't they have true names?"
Mortalis Varn's gaze seemed to pierce through her very thoughts. "Names are chains. Titles are freedom. When you walk the edges of reality as they do, names become liabilities limits that the multiverse refuses to honor."
He paused, then added with a hint of wry detachment, "If you're seeking them, be cautious. They do not play by the rules, and their motives… are their own."
Before she could ask more, the figure's gaze flickered toward a distant horizon. "My business is here, in the archives of decay and renewal. You, however… are far from safe."
With that, Mortalis Varn vanished into the shadows, leaving Elara to ponder the weight of his words beneath the eerie silence of the forest.
Elara stepped into the grand library hall, its high vaulted ceilings lined with ancient tomes and holographic lore displays. At the center, seated behind a massive desk stacked with data crystals, was The Professor known online for his youthful female avatar but with a voice deep and calm, betraying his true identity.
"Elara," The Professor greeted, eyes scanning her data log as she recounted her encounter with Mortalis Varn. "The Plaguebound Archivist… fascinating. He confirms much of the old speculation these 'neutral bosses' exist outside usual narrative bounds. Their names withheld, their purposes cloaked."
Elara nodded. "He warned me about the Monarch of Shadows and the Wayward Pilot. Their motives are… complex, maybe even dangerous."
The Professor tapped a few keys, bringing up fragmented legends and player reports. "This fits a new pattern emerging in the game's mythos. I've noticed strange shifts in the world's lore threads almost like layers of reality are blending."
Meanwhile, halfway across the virtual world, a popular streamer known as "FantasyFaye" was mid-stream, exploring a dense enchanted forest in Shangri-La Frontier. Suddenly, her character froze as a towering figure emerged on the horizon a sleek, jet-black titan suit, iridescent with data-pulse filaments, floating gravitational nodes orbiting it like satellites.
"Wait… what the ?!" FantasyFaye exclaimed, her voice filled with disbelief. "Is this a new colossi or some kind of boss monster?! That's not supposed to be in Shangri-La! This game's fantasy, not cyberpunk!"
The titan pilot moved gracefully, clearly controlled by an intelligent player rather than an AI mob. "Is this some kind of mod or secret event?" she wondered aloud, eyes glued to the screen.
The streamer's chat exploded with theories and confusion, speculation flying about a secret update or a hidden crossover event. Meanwhile, Vidarath The Wayward Pilot, drifted calmly through the virtual trees, a ghostly enigma in a world that had no place for him.
Vidarath moved with measured steps, the ground barely making a sound beneath the massive titan frame. The streamer's character cautiously followed from a distance, eyes wide with a mix of awe and fear. The titan's black armor shimmered faintly under the dappled sunlight filtering through the ancient forest canopy.
Suddenly, the titan stopped. With a smooth, almost fluid motion, Vidarath ejected himself from the cockpit. The towering mech stood silently behind him, a sleeping giant.
Vidarath scanned the area, his angular visor flickering briefly before locking onto the streamer's hidden position. A low, amused chuckle escaped from behind his helmet.
"Well, well," he called out, voice calm but tinged with humor. "Why are you hiding back there? You're not going to rob me or anything."
Without warning, the titan's massive hands shifted. A colossal shotgun materialized, cold steel gleaming with intricate engravings. Vidarath effortlessly locked it into place, and a massive shell fell into the chamber with a resonating clink.
The sheer scale of the weapon seemed almost comical next to the tiny figure of the streamer's character, but the message was clear: this was no NPC.
"Come on then," Vidarath beckoned with a playful smirk beneath the mask. "Let's see if you've got the guts to step out of the shadows."
The streamer's voice trembled slightly as they whispered to their chat, "What the hell is this? That's not a boss. That's not even in the data mines. Did… did they just add a sci-fi faction to Shangri-La Frontier without announcing it?"
Their character hesitantly crept from behind the mossy rock. Hands raised slightly, they approached Vidarath, who stood with arms crossed, flanked by his titan, now holding the massive shotgun like a resting war god.
"Uh… I-I'm not gonna rob you," the streamer said cautiously. "Just… curious. You're not from this game, are you?"
Vidarath tilted his head. The silver coordinates etched into his armor shimmered with faint light.
"Nope," he replied casually. "But I am in the game. Whole different thing."
The titan behind him vented a hiss of steam, locking the shotgun into standby mode.
"You got a name?" the streamer asked, recording every second for their viewers.
Vidarath turned, pacing slowly.
"People around here just call me The Wayward Pilot. I wander. I watch. I tweak reality. Sometimes I help. Sometimes I don't. Depends on the story."
The streamer was stunned. "Is… is this an ARG? A crossover event?"
Vidarath stopped and looked directly at them.
"You ever read lore that felt too real?" he said, tone darkening. "Like something wasn't supposed to be there? That's me."
Then he smirked. "Tell your clan leader the Monarch of Shadows stirs in the east. And Mortalis Varn's archives are open again."
Before the streamer could respond, Vidarath hopped back into the titan. The cockpit sealed with a satisfying click-hiss, and with a roar of thrusters, the Wayward Pilot launched into the sky, leaving the stunned player speechless and their chat exploding in wild speculation.
In A Different Game
In the glowing cathedral of Nephilim Hollow, the stained glass above cast crimson hues across the stone floor. Rust leaned back against a stone wall in the game's central hub, her avatar's red eyes fixed on the floating holographic screen in front of her. Her gloved fingers tapped rapidly through the interface as the stream replayed that moment—the titan locking a shell into place, the angular armor, the cryptic words of the "Wayward Pilot."
Her red-highlighted brown hair bounced slightly as she leaned forward with intense focus, scar catching the light.
"Pause. Enhance. Back five seconds," she muttered to herself.
The stream froze on Vidarath's Titan sleek, battle-worn, and unlike anything Shangri-La Frontier had ever shown.
Her mechanical enthusiasm flared.
"That's not a colossus model. That's… that's custom architecture. His neural interface is too smooth. No delay. No visible HUD." Her voice was a blend of awe and suspicion. "That's not just design polish… that's another system entirely."
She zoomed in on the coordinates etched into Vidarath's armor.
"Dimensional coordinates? Okay. This isn't just some high-tier skin this guy's a variable."
Rust's avatar stood and turned toward the massive cathedral door.
"I'm logging into SLF. Now."
As her Nephilim Hollow form shimmered and disconnected, her whispered words hung in the air:
"If that titan's real… I need to meet it."
[Location: The Ruins of Virelda's Keep – Deep in the Forgotten Expanse]
A party of six seasoned players stood at the crumbling gates of the ruined castle. Mist clung low to the ground, and the moaning wind carried faint whispers, some too coherent to be the environment.
Player 1 (Tank):"Okay, this place isn't on any raid map or wiki. It just... showed up."
Player 2 (Mage):"That throne room is giving me serious event boss vibes. Maybe this is a new patch dungeon?"
Player 3 (Rogue):"Then explain why my stealth keeps failing. Something's watching us. I can feel it."
As they pushed open the towering stone doors, a deep, oppressive darkness flooded out—not from lack of light, but as if the shadows themselves were alive.
Inside, the grand throne room was mostly collapsed, the vaulted ceiling cracked open to the sky. But the throne intact, ancient, jagged obsidian, remained.
And on it sat a figure.
Clad in the Ashborn Armor, mist flowing from his pauldrons like smoke from an ancient furnace, the Monarch of Shadows sat leaned to one side on the throne, one leg lazily thrown over the armrest.
His twin guns Shadow's Requiem and Ebon Wrath rested in holsters at his sides, pulsing like they had their own heartbeat. Across his back, the sheathed Noctem's Veil seemed to absorb even ambient light.
Monarch of Shadows (Nyxia), without looking at them:"Six steps too far, and the living get curious... Tell me have you come to kneel, to fight, or to listen?"
Player 4 (Healer, nervously):"...Is this a world boss? He's not aggroing. Anyone got a dialogue option?"
Player 5 (Archer):"Wait he's not even in the logs. He's not scanned. What the hell is this encounter?"
The Monarch slowly raised his head. His eyes glowed violet beneath the shadowed hood, and for a moment… one of the players felt something move behind the throne. Something massive. Something not fully rendered.
Nyxia stood, shadow rising with him like a cloak, and in that moment, the players' UI flickered as a unique encounter banner appeared:
[Boss Encounter: The Monarch of Shadows – Lord of the Fallen Kingdom]Unique NPC – Neutral Alignment – Paradox Encounter
Monarch (calmly):"I've seen kings with golden crowns and hollow hearts. You're not ready to face your fates. But perhaps... a conversation might suffice."
Player 1 (whispering):"...Guys, this isn't a fight. This is lore. We found a living part of the game's history."
Player 3:"Or maybe we found something we weren't supposed to."
Nyxia stepped forward, drawing Noctem's Veil, its form shifting slowly from greatsword to dagger to twin blades before settling.
Then he said, voice like silk-draped steel:
"Ask your questions well. And do not lie. Shadows don't forget."
Player 2 (Mage):"Who... who are you? This place wasn't here before. Are you the king of this land?"
Monarch of Shadows (Nyxia):(He turns his head slightly, as if mildly amused.)"King? No. Kings rule what they fear losing. I reign over what cannot be lost… only forgotten."(He gestures to the broken walls around them.)"This kingdom fell before memory itself crumbled. I am its last echo. Its final will."
Player 1 (Tank):"What happened here?"
Nyxia:(Walking slowly along the ruined hall, one hand grazing the stone, shadows trailing in his wake.)"They betrayed the night. They summoned light where it should not be. And the light… demanded a cost."(He stops and looks directly at the healer.)"So it was taken. Everything. Even names."
Player 4 (Healer):"But… if this place fell so long ago… why are you still here?"
Nyxia:(Voice low.)"Because the shadows do not forget. Because something must remember them. And because there are debts yet unpaid."
Player 5 (Archer):"Are you... waiting for someone? Or something?"
Nyxia:(Pauses at the shattered stained-glass window. His back turned.)"A pilot lost in time. A doctor cursed to remember. And me... cursed to become."(He turns back, very slowly, shadows pulling closer.)"When the three are reunited, and the veil breaks… I will no longer be this."
Player 3 (Rogue):"…Be what?"
Nyxia (quietly):"…Bound."
Player 2 (Mage):"Wait what are you? You don't act like a normal NPC. You're"
Nyxia:(Suddenly appearing in front of them, blade still sheathed but presence overwhelming.)"I am what remains when hope is exiled and vengeance falls asleep."(He leans closer, voice soft but piercing.)"You came seeking answers. Do not drown in them."
A new system notification flashes on the party's screen:
[You have encountered a Entity. Actions taken here may influence the Hidden World Thread.]
They stare, confused what was a Living Lore Entity?
But before they can ask more, Nyxia walks past them, and just before vanishing into the mist, says:
"When you see the pilot… tell him the sky still burns."
And then he's gone.
[Equinox Link Established — Private Channel: "The Three Wyrds"]
Vidarath (The Wayward Pilot):(Screen flickers with a faint humming noise as static clears, revealing Vidarath's helmeted face, half-lit by a soft holographic interface.)"Yo! That was awesome! Some streamer thought I was a new raid boss or something. You should've seen their face when the Titan locked a shell it was chef's kiss!"
Nyxia (Monarch of Shadows):(Voice rich and amused, shadows shifting in the background like a breathing cathedral of void.)"You should've heard this party. Called me 'Shadow King,' 'The Lost Monarch,' 'Ancient Fragment of the System.' They even offered me tribute. TRIBUTE, Vidarath!"(A quiet chuckle, giddy like a kid who got away with sneaking candy.)"I just gave them cryptic dialogue and faded into mist. Classic."
Dr. Wagner (Mortalis Varn):(Appearing onscreen with his usual cold, professional tone. The sound of mechanical tools clicking in the background.)"Hm. I, meanwhile, had a scholar interrogate me on my background. I spoke of quarantined ruins, flesh tomes, and how the scent of memory decays slower than the body. They seemed… unnerved. I consider that a success."
Vidarath:"Hah! Of course you spooked a nerd. I bet your cloak actually makes footstep sounds like broken glass and nightmares."
Nyxia:"It does. I wrote that in manually."
Dr. Wagner:"...I assumed as much."
(There's a moment of laughter Vidarath openly, Nyxia quieter, more composed, but no less delighted. The contrast to their ominous in-game personas is almost ridiculous.)
Vidarath:"Man, this world is dense with secrets. Like every ruin we land in feels like it's hiding something huge. Y'know, there's something really off with how deep this game lets us go. I keep finding files that feel like they weren't meant to be uncovered."
Nyxia:"Hm… the world is listening even when it doesn't speak. But let's enjoy the mystery for now. I love this. The roleplay, the reactions, the drama…"
Dr. Wagner:"You're both acting like children."
Vidarath:"We are children, Doc. Children with god-tier NPC shells!"
Nyxia:"And you love it."
Dr. Wagner:(A pause. A sigh. Then dryly:)"...Perhaps."
[End Transmission]
Unbeknownst to them, hidden deep within the code, Nyxia's glitch pulses faintly a black mark growing slowly, waiting. One requirement met. Several more to go.
[SLF Official Forums — "Mysteries & Legends" Thread]
Thread Title:"Who the heck are the Shadow Monarch, the Plaguebound Archivist, and the Wayward Wanderer? New NPCs or something else?"
Player1_ArcaneMage:"Okay, so I just ran into the 'Monarch of Shadows' sitting on the throne at the ruined castle. He doesn't say much, but the way he moves... it's like he's actually alive. Not like an NPC, more like a player with admin powers? The handguns he carries glow with those weird runes, and his cloak looks like it's made of living shadows."
KnightRider95:"Yeah, I saw him too! And then there's the 'Plaguebound Archivist' guy looks straight out of some dark fantasy novel, wearing a gas mask and this tattered black cloak. He has this eerie aura like he's seen too many plagues or wars. Someone said his medical bag is filled with ancient sigils? 10/10 creepy, but kinda cool."
LoreSeeker77:"Wait, you guys forgot the 'Wayward Wanderer' a pilot guy with this crazy high-tech armor. It's like sci-fi mixed with fantasy, but without anything neon or cyberpunk. I saw him exit some giant mech suit that looks like it's from an old legend or maybe a relic from an ancient war? He's super mysterious, almost like a boss from a hidden raid."
PixelPirate:"Dude, what if these three are part of some secret event or storyline? I mean, they don't fit the usual aesthetic of SLF at all. The way the Monarch's sword changes shape and those guns replenish ammo? That's straight-up legendary weapon tier."
ShadowWolf34:"Legends say that these three appeared suddenly after the last update. No announcements, no quests. Just… there. Some people swear they caught the Monarch disappearing into shadows, like he's not bound by the game's physics. I'm starting to think they're some kind of sentient code or maybe even devs who got trapped in the game?"
MageMistress:"I recorded a whole encounter with the Plaguebound Archivist. His dialogue is cryptic, full of references to death and memory decaying slower than the body. It's honestly chilling. I can't tell if he's friend or foe yet."
SwordDancer:"Anyone else notice that the Wayward Wanderer's mech can do crazy moves no one else can? I tried to mimic his flight but failed miserably. He moves like he's from another dimension or something."
Forum Moderator (Official):"Reminder: Please keep discussions respectful and avoid spoilers for new players. We're monitoring the situation and will update when more is known about these mysterious figures. Thanks!"
Player1_ArcaneMage (later reply):"Honestly, I think these three are going to be part of some endgame content. Or maybe they're here to challenge the strongest players. Can't wait to see what they do next!"
The forum thread explodes with hundreds of replies, fan art, and speculation as the players try to piece together the enigma of the trio the Monarch of Shadows, the Plaguebound Archivist, and the Wayward Wanderer each shrouded in mystery, breaking the usual fantasy mold of Shangri-La Frontier.
INT. UTOPIA INC. – DEV FLOOR – NIGHT
The studio pulses with low light and the steady rhythm of cooling fans and server activity. A faint buzz of digital activity runs beneath the surface. Inside the central glass meeting room, the atmosphere is charged.
TSUKUYO TSUKURI, refined and enigmatic, stands by a projected character sheet of the "Monarch of Shadows," "The Plaguebound Archivist," and "The Wayward Pilot" each boasting absurdly unbalanced stats. She taps her temple with her stylus, calm but firm.
Across from her, RITSU AMACHI paces furiously, gripping a tablet filled with complaints, crash logs, and rage posts from the player community.
RITSU AMACHI (angrily):"You intentionally released characters no one can beat! They're dodging mechanics, ignoring status conditions, and one of them rewrites the boss script what the hell is wrong with you, Tsukuri?!"
TSUKUYO TSUKURI (coolly):"It's called immersion. Mythic-level threats should feel like threats. If players are scared to fight them, good. That means I did my job."
RITSU (furious):"Your job isn't to make gods and throw them into a sandbox! We tested balance for months, and now you're breaking it for what, drama? Hype?"
TSUKUYO (biting):"Oh, forgive me for trying to make the story memorable. Not everyone wants to mindlessly farm dungeons until they win."
RITSU:"People are quitting! Whole raid clans are giving up. Streamers can't even review the patch because they get wiped before the cutscenes end!"
TSUKUYO (mocking):"Then maybe they're not the heroes they thought they were."
A dangerous silence. Ritsu steps closer, eyes burning.
RITSU (low):"You're turning this game into your personal mythos. And you didn't even warn us. No notes. No team sync. Just boom three nightmare bosses with custom lore, AI, and unbeatable kits dropped into live servers."
TSUKUYO (shrugs):"Great legends aren't announced, Ritsu. They arrive. Just like in real myth."
RITSU:"This isn't myth. It's sabotage. You're weaponizing design."
TSUKUYO (quietly, coldly):"I'm elevating it."
RITSU (through clenched teeth):"We're patching them. Nerfs go live tomorrow."
TSUKUYO (voice sharp as a knife):"You touch my Monarch, and I walk."
RITSU (unflinching):"You already broke the rules, Tsukuri. If you're so ready to leave, maybe you should."
Beat. The hum of the servers feels louder now.
TSUKUYO (after a long pause, softly):"Let them struggle. Let them fail. It's how legends are forged."
RITSU:"And it's how communities die."
They glare at each other through the glass, the glow of the Monarch's model flickering between them.