New Eden: Live to Play, Play to Live

While Khalor was having the most boring and fake conversation of his life, somewhere not so far from him, in the lands of the Demonoids, a guild was getting ready to fight a battle for their continuity. And this guild was the Neo-Spetsnaz.

After Anton had sent lackeys to investigate the mysterious red glint in the distance, his henchmen had come back with bad news. That glint looked like a red rip in the air itself, and it was spewing some red-black miasma.

When they had tried touching the miasma, notifications of corruption progression had assaulted their ears, and after a brave, or foolish, member tried reaching a hundred percent, they had instantly regretted it.

When the player in question reached a hundred percent corruption, his screen went red, and he lost control of his avatar. He stayed conscious of the entire ordeal, while his body suddenly started spewing red and black mist.

He levelled up ten times, and his grade went up by one, as he started attacking his allies. It was a slaughter, as he had suddenly transformed into a simili-boss to his allies, and tore them apart.

The after-effect of this transformation also left a bitter taste in his mouth. When he regained control, his levels dropped back to normal, before losing another one, and his stats were now all messed up, with no chance to put them back right.

The player had to redo his ratio going forward, and his stats were no longer tailored to him, for the time being. His grade also went back to normal, killing every hope of an actual upgrade.

When they brought this information back to Anton, their guild leader, the Komandir, had ordered for information to be found about these rips and a solution to be brought to him. Of course, solutions for this weren’t abundant, yet, and he would have to pussyfoot around that zone for the time being. 𝗼𝘃𝗹.𝗼𝐫𝗴

But over the first week after the update, the zone around the tear had slowly grown in size, and all the monsters still in the zone had gone mad, getting corrupted by the strange miasma, and attacking anything in range. And the closest thing in range was Neo-Spetsnaz’s guild building.

Anton was currently in his office, talking with his officers, making plans to fight back the next waves of corrupted monsters. Up to now, the waves had been small, as the monsters around here were few.

But the zone was about to reach their doorstep, and Anton refused to move to another location.

“Komandir. We have to accept the possibility that our base might get overrun. And if we fight them back, how long until the miasma reaches us, and we can no longer stay here?”

Anton looked scowled at the officer.

“Are you saying we should just give up and move? After investing so much in this base and its construction?”

The officers in the room all looked dejected. They didn’t want to move away either, but the situation was getting dire.

The second in command, Chernobyl, was deftly tapping in the air before him, a web page open, that only he could see. He had barely left the forums over the past week, and he was still coming dry in terms of ways to close the tear.

That was, until now. A new post had just been added, titled ‘The Tears Are Closable!’

Opening it up, the poster claimed he had been on raids all week with NPC troops, cleaning up the surroundings of the kingdom he was currently stuck in, and they had found a red tear inside a nearby mountain.

It had taken a full group of twelve players, as well as a small army company of a little over a hundred men and women, just to make it to the darned thing. And from there, a group of cleric NPCs contained the tear, until they finally closed it, after a day of ritual chanting.

A grin appeared on Chernobyl’s face. He rapidly screenshotted the article, before sending it directly to Anton, who was staring down his officers one by one.

When the guild leader received it, he glanced over at his second in command, who always lurked in the corner, and saw his grin.

‘Hm? Finally, some good news, maybe?’

Opening up the image, Anton read through it briskly, and a small smile bloomed on his face.

“Men!”

“Yes, Komandir!” the men hollered.

The sudden change in mood he had experienced surprised them. But anything was better than him being mad.

“Chernobyl, the only useful one of you lot, has found a lead to save our position. But it requires some clerics, priests, or whatever divine class we can find. Set out and fetch me some divine classes!”

The officers looked puzzled for a few seconds before Anton snapped at them.

“Now! You lazy sons of your mothers!”

“Yes, Komandir!” they chanted in unison again.

The room emptied rapidly, the men happy they had a way out of there without being on their way to the nearest graveyard. Anton watched them scurry away like rats and laughed interiorly.

‘What a bunch of pussies. I can’t wait to get stronger players, so I can change those worthless pawns for stronger men.’

Chernobyl walked up to the guild leader, his hands folded into his robe sleeves.

“Komandir. I have a feeling we might not get someone in time for this. Do you want me to reach out and contract a priest class from outside our guild so we can start moving in on this phenomenon?”

Anton scratched his chin in thought, before nodding his head once.

“If you think it’s best for us, do as you wish. Just make sure you don’t pay too much for them. Our resources would be better spent elsewhere, if possible.”

“Yes, Komandir. I will get right to it.”

The Warlock pivoted around, walking out of the office in a silent step. His mind already reaching online again, to set up a recruitment ad on the forums.

Anton smiled again.

‘He’s the only useful officer in this whole guild, aside from me.’

His smile faded away as he retrieved a note from his left drawer. On it, intel on Chernobyl’s covert actions, to query favour from the big players in other guilds.

This was a clear affront to Anton, but the Berserker tolerated it, as long as it stayed under the rug, and remained at the stage of querying favour. If the Warlock ever tried backstabbing him, though, there would be hell to pay.

A murderous glint flashed across Anton’s eyes.

‘Let’s just hope you are smart enough to stop before crossing the line.’