Long Chapter
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Andrew, Silas, Lucas, and Vance were Marcus’s bros in the real world, the friends he had t during his years at Crestwood University.
The five of them had played together on the university’s basketball team, their bond forged through years of relentless training, hard-fought gas, and the quiet understanding that only teammates develop when they rely on one another completely. By the ti they reached their sophomore year, that connection had grown so strong that they had formally sworn brotherhood, promising that no matter where life carried them, they would always stand together.
On the court, they had fought side by side and carved their nas into the school’s history, leading Crestwood to a run of victories that people on campus still talked about long after the season ended.
Marcus had always played Point Guard, the team’s Number One, the one responsible for controlling the rhythm of the ga and directing every play.
Silas held the Number Two position as Shooting Guard. Calm, steady, and almost unnervingly reliable, he had a shooting form that coaches loved to point out as an example of perfection. His three-point shots were smooth and precise, each one released with effortless grace. He lacked Marcus’s explosive aggression, but there was a refined elegance to the way he moved that made him sothing of a campus celebrity among the girls.
Vance filled the Number Three role as Small Forward. He was the team’s spark, a restless bundle of energy who could turn the tide of a ga in seconds. Quick on his feet and sharp in mind, he had an uncanny ability to read his opponents. On the court he moved like a phantom, slipping through defensive lines before anyone realized what he was doing. By the ti the defenders reacted, the ball was already sailing toward the basket.
Andrew, built like a wall of muscle, naturally took the Number Four spot as Power Forward. Strength and positioning ca to him as instinctively as breathing. Once he planted himself beneath the hoop, that space effectively beca his territory. Opponents could fight all they liked for rebounds, but very few ever managed to pry one out of his grasp.
Then there was Lucas, the team’s Center at Number Five.
Cold, composed, and almost unnervingly analytical, Lucas possessed an all-around skill set that made him the focal point of the entire lineup. He was as comfortable battling under the basket as he was stepping out to the three-point line or drifting into the backcourt to set up a play. His blocks were legendary among rival teams, and his court vision made his assists just as dangerous. Guarding him was a nightmare because there was simply no predicting what he would do next.
Originally, Marcus had wanted to play Center himself. But none of the others could control the ball as well as he could, and in the end he had stepped into the Point Guard role without complaint.
Together, the five of them beca sothing of a miracle team. Like a dark horse that no one saw coming, they had stord through the collegiate league and captured the National Collegiate Basketball Championship four years in a row. By the ti they graduated, they had beco the most celebrated lineup in Crestwood’s history.
They moved as one unit, fought as one unit, and eventually gad as one unit.
In their previous virtual world, Emperor’s Realm, the five of them had founded the famous IronWing Guild. Under their leadership it grew into the strongest faction in the entire ga, and the na "IronWing Five" beca sothing every player recognized.
But the n standing before Marcus now belonged to a different Chapter of his life.
These were the friends he had t within the world of Emperor’s Realm itself, players whose bonds with him had been forged through countless battles, raids, and adventures that lasted deep into the night. They were veterans of the digital battlefield, elite gars whose nas were known across the global rankings. Every one of them stood among the top two hundred players in the world, and a few were even more famous than Marcus himself.
Yet despite their closeness, they had never joined the IronWing Guild.
The reason was simple. Every one of them was a lone wolf at heart. They preferred roaming freely, chasing whatever challenge caught their interest rather than tying themselves to the structure of a guild. Even so, their loyalty to Marcus had never wavered. If he ever ran into trouble, they treated it as their own without hesitation.
Their friendship might have begun inside a ga, but the connection had long since grown beyond that.
A year ago, Blaze had arranged a real-life gathering. They had traveled from all over the country to et, sitting around the sa table three separate tis to drink, travel, and put faces to the voices they had known for years. Those etings had transford their digital camaraderie into sothing deeper, sothing real.
Looking around the room now, Marcus found mories returning one after another.
DragonBlade was the first face that ca to mind.
The Knight hailed from the Northeast and carried himself with the loud confidence of soone who had grown up without ever worrying about money. His father ran a thriving business, and DragonBlade had inherited both the wealth and the easy generosity that ca with it.
In every ga he played, DragonBlade gravitated toward the sa role: the unbreakable wall. He specialized in the slow grind of battle, wading into combat with absurd defensive stats and a health pool that seed almost unfair. He rarely bothered dodging attacks. Instead, he simply endured them, wearing his enemies down bit by bit until they collapsed from exhaustion.
He liked to summarize his philosophy with a single sentence.
"If you can’t kill in one hit, then you’re already dead."
Marcus had t him early in the days of Emperor’s Realm. At the ti Marcus and Andrew were still low-level players who hadn’t even considered founding a guild. During a difficult boss fight, the IronWing brothers had been struggling because Marcus alone couldn’t handle the tanking duties.
DragonBlade happened to pass by and jumped into the battle without hesitation. His monstrous defense stunned Marcus, and the two of them quickly fell into a rhythm of perfectly tid coordination. By the end of the fight, they had already recognized each other as players of the sa caliber. A few more boss hunts later, they had beco inseparable.
DragonBlade had helped many players over the years, but Marcus remained the only one he truly called brother. It was the classic case of skill recognizing skill. Thanks to his generous nature, DragonBlade had built an impeccable reputation in Emperor’s Realm, and major guilds were constantly trying to recruit him.
Next was Blaze.
The Warrior was the oldest among them and the most grounded. In real life he owned a thriving restaurant chain, and years of dealing with employees, custors, and suppliers had given him a calm authority that naturally drew people to him.
Marcus and DragonBlade had first crossed paths with him by accident. During one of their hunts, their fight had spilled into another player’s grinding area and dragged an unsuspecting Blaze into the chaos. As it turned out, Blaze and DragonBlade ca from the sa hotown, and the coincidence quickly sparked a friendship.
Blaze carried his business instincts into the ga, becoming a legendary rchant within Emperor’s Realm. Even though he preferred playing solo, his financial support had been crucial to the early growth of the IronWing Guild. Back when the guild was still struggling to afford equipnt and supplies, Blaze’s backing had kept them afloat.
Then there was Gloomy Arrow.
The Archer had been the third Marcus t. Unlike so of the others, he ca from a modest background and carried himself with quiet maturity. At the ti, he was pursuing a master’s degree in the real world while dominating the archery rankings in the ga.
Back then his na had been Happy Arrow, and he had held the title of the strongest archer in Emperor’s Realm.
Not long after the IronWing Guild was ford, Marcus had been ambushed while leveling alone. A rival guild had sent fifty players to hunt him down.
Happy Arrow had witnessed the ambush and stepped in without hesitation.
Even with their combined skill, the two of them were eventually overwheld by the sheer number of enemies. But they didn’t go down quietly. Before falling, Marcus had taken fifteen opponents with him, while Happy Arrow had sniped ten from a distance.
The display had left Happy Arrow deeply impressed.
From that day on he began calling Marcus "Stone," and the two of them gradually beca close friends.
Later, Happy Arrow t a girl in the ga and grew close to her. Then one day she disappeared. After searching for answers, he eventually learned through her friends that she had been battling leukemia and had passed away.
Grief-stricken, he deleted his character and created a new one under a different na.
Gloomy Arrow.
It was his quiet tribute to the girl he had lost.
Cleaver was another unforgettable character.
The Warrior ca from a wealthy family but had the personality of an overexcited enthusiast who simply loved making friends. He rarely got angry, though he possessed a stubborn streak when it ca to one particular obsession.
Blades.
Cleaver refused to play any class that didn’t involve wielding a sword, and he had an almost fanatical fascination with rare weapons.
His favorite catchphrase was simple.
"I’ll chop you into fish food."
His life motto was even simpler.
"In this world, a man and his blade are one. Give a single cleaver and I’ll handle the rest."
When he heard rumors that Marcus had obtained a legendary sword in Emperor’s Realm, Cleaver tracked down the IronWing Guild purely to see the weapon’s stats.
After seeing it, he fell in love instantly.
First he tried to buy it. When Marcus refused, he asked to borrow it. When Marcus still refused, Cleaver resorted to following him everywhere. And he ant everywhere. Dungeons, cities, wilderness maps. No matter where Marcus went, Cleaver would show up behind him like a persistent shadow, making it nearly impossible to focus on anything else.
Marcus eventually snapped and tried to kill him.
To his annoyance, Cleaver turned out to be surprisingly difficult to pin down. Whenever his health dropped too low, he would run. The mont Marcus gave up the chase, Cleaver would quietly appear again a few minutes later.
In the end, Marcus gave up and lent him the blade for a few days.
Unfortunately, Cleaver had discovered an upgrade stone around that ti.
Without saying a word, he attempted to enhance the legendary weapon, but his luck was catastrophic. The blade shattered during the attempt.
Marcus was devastated.
They fought several tis afterward over the incident, though the fights never felt quite the sa without that legendary weapon. The most outrageous part was that Cleaver insisted the disaster was Marcus’s fault.
"If you’d lent it to earlier, it wouldn’t have broken," he claid with complete seriousness.
Then there was Fate’s Trial.
The Sorcerer ca from a distinguished family and carried himself with the quiet confidence of soone who had been raised with strict discipline. He preferred mage classes and possessed terrifying combat instincts, but he spoke little and kept his emotions tightly controlled.
Standing in complete contrast was Drunkard.
The Assassin ca from an influential political family, yet he behaved like the loudest troublemaker in any room. Words flowed from him endlessly, and his mind was always scheming up so new gamble or ridiculous idea.
Despite his na, Drunkard had very refined tastes when it ca to alcohol. If the bottle wasn’t top-shelf, he wouldn’t even touch it. The irony was that he had an embarrassingly low tolerance. Half a bottle was usually enough to knock him out cold, a fact the rest of the group never let him forget.
Because of their families’ connections, Fate and Drunkard had known each other in real life long before Marcus t them. Their personalities couldn’t have been more different, yet they were constant rivals, always betting or challenging each other to duels.
Marcus first t them during a rather ridiculous incident.
He and DragonBlade had been leveling when they stumbled upon Fate and Drunkard being chased across the map by a boss they had accidentally pulled. A fragile mage and a lightly armored assassin had no business provoking sothing that strong, and the sight of them running for their lives was almost comical.
Marcus and DragonBlade stepped in to help finish the monster.
Instead of thanking them, Drunkard complained that they had stolen his boss and his experience.
The argunt quickly escalated into a two-on-two fight.
Drunkard lost.
For the next several weeks he hunted Marcus for revenge.
Not long after that, he tried using his stealth abilities to rob Marcus while Marcus was distracted fighting another boss. Unfortunately for him, Marcus caught him in the act. If Fate hadn’t stepped in to pull him away, Marcus would have cut him down on the spot.
After that, the four of them clashed repeatedly. In the beginning Marcus struggled against the pair and even died a few tis. But as his strength grew, the gap between them gradually widened until neither Fate nor Drunkard could defeat him anymore.
Marcus still rembered their final duel clearly.
Fate’s spells barely scratched him, while Drunkard’s health bar dropped rapidly under Marcus’s attacks.
Frustrated beyond belief, Drunkard finally threw his daggers onto the ground and shouted.
"Stone, you freak! Are you cheating or sothing? How the hell are you leveling this fast?"
Oddly enough, that was the mont their rivalry turned into friendship.
From then on, Marcus beca the only person Drunkard ever addressed as "big bro."
Another morable figure was Thunderstorm.
The Sorcerer ca from a prestigious family and looked every bit the refined gentleman, quiet and composed at first glance. But beneath that calm exterior burned a fierce competitive streak. He lived for the thrill of battle and had little interest in teamwork.
As the IronWing Guild’s fa spread and Marcus’s reputation as a duelist grew, Thunderstorm tracked him down and demanded a match.
Their first duel ended in a draw.
Instead of settling things, that result only ignited a rivalry.
Over the next two months they fought at least ten tis, each encounter pushing both of them to grow stronger in preparation for the next.
Looking back on it now, Marcus had to admit he had been just as addicted to fighting as Thunderstorm was.
Their rivalry finally cooled when Thunderstorm’s younger sister, Raven, unexpectedly appeared and interrupted what would have been their decisive duel.
Of course, the rest of the group had never liked Thunderstorm’s arrogance. DragonBlade, Cleaver, Fate, and Drunkard frequently challenged him as well, leading to chaotic group brawls that erupted more often than anyone could count.
In the end, all that fighting simply folded Thunderstorm into their circle. As for who actually won the most duels, none of them could say anymore.
Marcus was about to ask where the last two mbers of the group were, Invincible Strong and Path to Heaven, when the door swung open and two Warlocks walked in.
"Stone!"
"Hey, Stone!"
Speak of the devil.
Just as Marcus had been thinking about them, they appeared.
"Stone, I’ve missed you!" Invincible Strong shouted, hurrying over. "When did you start playing again? Why didn’t you tell ?"
He had an energy that rivaled even Drunkard’s. If Marcus had been a woman, Strong probably would have scooped him up in an overenthusiastic hug.
Invincible Strong was a Necromancer now, though in their previous ga he had played a Rogue. His parents were high-ranking officers in the military, which had apparently raised him without the slightest concept of fear. He loved doing things no one else dared to attempt, and trouble seed to follow him wherever he went.
Back in Emperor’s Realm, he had once stolen a valuable quest item from Marcus’s rival, ThreeleafAxe69. The theft sparked a furious manhunt, and Marcus had ended up rescuing him from the chaos. In a good mood that day, Marcus had even helped him complete several quests afterward.
From that mont on, Strong stuck to him like glue.
Strong was also the one who introduced Marcus to Path to Heaven, who had already been close friends with Blaze.
Path to Heaven was a Beastmaster, a quiet and mysterious man who was several years younger than Blaze yet sohow shared an unusually strong friendship with him.
He seed to know everyone and everything. Gathering information was his specialty, whether it involved tracking powerful players or uncovering hidden events in the ga world. Much of Blaze’s business success within Emperor’s Realm had been built on intelligence Path to Heaven provided.
Marcus was a little surprised to see that both of them had chosen Warlock classes this ti around.
Warlocks, much like Clerics, leaned heavily toward support roles. They weren’t known for overwhelming combat strength, but mastering them required precise timing and strong technical skill. For soone like Strong, who constantly sought new challenges, the choice made perfect sense.
Looking around at the n gathered before him, Marcus realized the entire gang was finally here.
mories of everything they had experienced together washed over him in a wave of nostalgia.
Every man in this room was an elite player, each one possessing a unique talent that had earned them their reputation.
In Emperor’s Realm, Marcus had been known as the legendary IronWing, Stone.
And anyone who could stand beside him, laugh with him, or cross blades with him and still keep up had to be just as legendary.
Marcus looked at them and smiled. He was ho.
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