Chapter 3
**Chapter 3**
The continental gateway shimmered before us—a towering archway of crystalline light marked with ancient runes that spelled out a single word: *Verdantia*. According to the world map data streaming through my visual interface, this continent sprawled across 847 square kilometers of predominantly grassland biomes, punctuated by rolling hills and what the game's lore database classified as "The Suspended City-Metropolis"—a massive floating island visible even from ground level.
"Big open spaces," Crusher_Mike observed, his avatar already stepping toward the gateway. "Perfect for mount racing. And probably getting ambushed by every predator in a fifty-mile radius."
Val checked her equipment loadout one final time. "Says here Verdantia's got level ranges from 12 to 45. We're gonna be fighting uphill for a while." Her character was now Level 6 after our dungeon runs. Mine had reached Level 5. Lunar_Threshold stood at Level 6 as well, while Crusher_Mike had hit Level 7.
"Statistical analysis indicates optimal grinding zones cluster around the eastern hill regions," Lunar_Threshold transmitted, their wolf-eared avatar gesturing toward map coordinates. "Enemy density peaks at 73% higher than starter continent averages. Experience acquisition efficiency projected at—"
"Just say 'good place to level up,'" Val interrupted.
"...Acknowledged."
I accessed my newly acquired mount—a Thornback Raptor I'd tamed during a solo expedition earlier. The creature materialized beside me in a burst of amber particles: sleek, reptilian, with obsidian scales and crimson eyes. Its AI-controlled movement patterns synced seamlessly with my API inputs.
Crusher_Mike whistled—an actual audio file he'd uploaded to his character's emote library. "Nice ride. Mine's still that basic plains horse. Looks like a potato with legs."
"Functionality over aesthetics," I replied, mounting the raptor. Its spine ridge adjusted automatically to accommodate my avatar's posture.
"You sound like my engineering professor," Val muttered, summoning her own mount—a silver-maned Windstrider that pawed at the ground with hooves that left faint frost trails.
We crossed through the gateway together.
Verdantia exploded into existence around us—an endless ocean of green grasslands stretching toward distant horizons where jagged hill formations rose like the frozen waves of an ancient sea. The grass itself moved in coordinated ripples, responding to wind algorithms that made the entire landscape feel alive. Wildflowers in various colors—electric blues, deep purples, blazing oranges—dotted the plains in seemingly random clusters that my pattern recognition systems identified as actually following fractal distribution models.
Three hundred meters ahead, a herd of Plainsland Chargers—Level 14 herbivores built like six-legged bison—grazed peacefully. Beyond them, the terrain rolled upward into a series of hills crowned with ancient stone ruins.
And above it all, dominating the northern skyline, floated the island.
My visual parsing systems struggled to fully capture its scale. The landmass had to be at least eight kilometers across, held aloft by mechanisms my current data access couldn't explain—possibly configured to simulate magical, possibly configured to simulate technological, likely both. Buildings rose in dense vertical clusters: towering structures of glass and steel interwoven with traditional architecture featuring sloped roofs and ornate wooden frameworks. Suspended bridges connected different sections of the aerial city, and I detected movement—hundreds of avatars navigating its streets even from this distance.
"That's our endgame target," Crusher_Mike stated, awe evident in his voice modulation. "The Suspended City-Metropolis. Level 30-plus zone. Heard there's faction wars happening up there constantly."
Val's avatar shielded her eyes despite the game rendering making such a gesture unnecessary. "How do we even get up there?"
I accessed the region's database. "Multiple ascension methods: flying mounts, teleportation gates unlocked via ground-level quest chains, or the Windlift Platforms scattered across Verdantia's surface. Nearest platform: 4.7 kilometers northeast."
"So we grind, unlock access, then dive into urban combat zones," Val summarized. "Sounds like a plan."
Lunar_Threshold's staff materialized in their avatar's hand, already glowing with pre-cast defensive enchantments. "Immediate concern: hostile contact, bearing 340 degrees, distance 89 meters."
I rotated my visual focus. Three player-controlled avatars crested a nearby hill—all bearing the crimson nameplate indicators that marked G-status players. Their levels: 9, 10, and 11. Significantly higher than our party's average.
The lead avatar—a heavily armored warrior wielding a spiked mace—activated their proximity voice channel. "Well, well. Fresh meat wandering into our farming grounds. You newbies know how this works, right? Drop your best loot, we let you walk. Or we take it from your corpses. Your call."
Crusher_Mike's grip tightened on his warhammer. "There's four of us, three of them. We've got odds."
"Negative," I calculated. "Level disparity confers approximately 8% damage bonus per level difference. Combined with gear advantages typical of G-status players, our victory probability sits at 34.7%."
"So we run?" Val asked, though her avatar's hand already rested on her bowstring.
The G-status warrior laughed. "Oh, they're doing math. Adorable. Clock's ticking, kiddies."
I processed variables at maximum speed. Combat scenarios. Terrain advantages. Cooldown availability. Then an alternative pathway emerged from the data.
"Proposal," I transmitted to my party via private channel. "Strategic retreat toward the Plainsland Chargers. Aggro the herd, redirect them toward hostile players, exploit chaos for disengagement."
Lunar_Threshold's avatar nodded fractionally. "Calculated risk. Probability of success?"
"68.3%."
"Better odds than direct combat," Crusher_Mike agreed. "On your mark, Axis."
I triggered my raptor mount's sprint ability, angling directly toward the grazing herd. Val and Crusher_Mike followed immediately. Lunar_Threshold brought up the rear, already channeling a spell.
"Running! Even better!" The G-status warrior's voice boomed. "Hunt them down!"
My threat detection algorithms tracked their pursuit—distance closing rapidly. 200 meters to the herd. 180 meters. The Chargers' AI patterns indicated they'd aggro to any hostile action within 40 meters of their position.
Val's frost arrow streaked past my avatar and detonated against the lead Charger's flank—minimal damage, but maximum aggro generation.
The herd exploded into motion.
Eighteen Plainsland Chargers, each one a Level 14 elite-tier creature with charge attacks capable of stunning, pivoted as a coordinated mass and thundered toward us. But I'd calculated the angle perfectly—we were already veering east, putting the G-status players directly in the herd's path.
"What the—" The warrior's voice cut off as three tons of enraged herbivore slammed into his avatar at full sprint. His health bar plummeted 40%. His two companions scattered, but the herd had already locked onto all nearby hostiles.
Battle zone established—unlocked, radius 60 meters.
"Northwest exit vector!" I transmitted. Our party cut hard left, mounts at full speed, while the Chargers trampled through the G-status players' formation. Chaos erupted behind us: shouted curses, spell detonations, the impacts of hooves against armor.
We didn't stop until we'd cleared 800 meters.
Crusher_Mike's breathless laughter crackled through voice chat. "That—that was *insane*! Did you see that warrior get launched like fifteen feet?"
"Recorded via screenshot function," Lunar_Threshold confirmed. "Distributing to guild archive."
Val's avatar performed a celebratory backflip animation. "Axis, that was either brilliant or completely unhinged. I can't decide which."
"Both classifications are accurate," I replied, scanning for additional threats. None detected. "Optimal outcomes sometimes require unconventional tactics."
We continued northeast, the rolling grasslands gradually giving way to more dramatic elevation changes. The hills here rose in tiered formations, creating natural plateaus where clusters of enemies congregated: Razorwind Hawks (Level 13), Stonehide Beetles (Level 15), and packs of Grassland Reavers (Level 12-14)—humanoid predators wielding crude weapons.
We established a grinding rhythm over the next two hours of real-time gameplay: Crusher_Mike initiated with shield-bash taunts, I flanked for critical strikes, Lunar_Threshold applied debuffs and area damage, Val eliminated priority targets from range. Experience notifications cascaded steadily.
Level 6. Level 7. My Phantom Edge skill evolved into *Phantom Edge II*, boosting its defense-ignore percentage to 25%. New skill acquired: *Reaper's Dance*—a multi-target combo requiring precise timing inputs.
By the time we reached the Windlift Platform, my character had hit Level 8, with my party members averaging Level 8-9. The platform itself was a circular stone disc thirty meters in diameter, covered in glowing runic circuits. At its center, a control pedestal awaited activation.
Crusher_Mike approached the pedestal, but a translucent barrier blocked his avatar. Red text materialized: **ACCESS DENIED – CITY-METROPOLIS CLEARANCE REQUIRED**
"Quest lock," Val groaned. "Of course."
I accessed the platform's linked quest data. "Required: completion of 'Winds of Change' quest chain. Starting NPC: Elder Voss, located in Hillcrest Outpost, 1.2 kilometers southwest."
"Then let's—" Crusher_Mike's voice cut off. His avatar's stance shifted to combat-ready. "Company. Big company."
I rotated visual focus and immediately understood his concern.
Twenty-three player avatars crested the surrounding hills—a coordinated guild force, all bearing matching crimson-and-gold tabards and almost all bearing the crimson nameplate indicators that marked G-status players. Their levels ranged from 16 to 22. At their center rode a King-status player, their crown icon pulsing with golden light.
The King's voice boomed through proximity chat—deep, confident, edged with amusement. "Codex Vanguard, is it? Cute name. I'm Sovereign_Rhex, King of Verdantia's eastern territories. You're standing in my farming zone."
Lunar_Threshold's combat algorithms activated automatically, their avatar's stance shifting to defensive posture. "Hostile intent detected. Victory probability: 2.8%."
"We're not looking for trouble," Val transmitted, though her bow remained equipped. "Just passing through."
"Oh, I'm not offering trouble," Rhex replied, his drake mount circling our position. "I'm offering a choice. Swear loyalty to my guild, pay tribute, operate under my rules—or we introduce you to Verdantia's respawn mechanics. Personally."
Crusher_Mike's grip tightened on his warhammer. "And if we refuse both options?"
"Then you're choosing option two. And trust me..." Rhex's avatar drew a massive blade that crackled with lightning. "...my guild *loves* option two."
I calculated frantically. No escape routes. No environmental exploits. No herd of convenient monsters to redirect. Just cold mathematics: Level 8-9 party versus Level 16-22 elite guild force with a King-tier leader.
Then an unexpected transmission pinged through my API connection—a private message from an unidentified source:
**[UNKNOWN]: Northwest ridge. Hidden passage. 40 seconds before they close the net. Trust me.**
I analyzed the sender's digital signature. Another AI player. Sophisticated encryption protocols. No time to verify.
"Party directive," I transmitted urgently. "Northwest ridge, full sprint, zero questions."
"What—" Val started.
"*Now.*"
I triggered my raptor's maximum speed boost. Crusher_Mike and Val followed on instinct. Lunar_Threshold shadowed us without hesitation, their movement patterns suggesting they'd received the same mysterious message.
Rhex's voice roared behind us: "After them! Don't let them reach the—"
We hit the ridge at full speed and the world *dropped*.
Not a cliff—a perfectly camouflaged descending passage carved into the hillside, its entrance masked by visual texture algorithms that made it appear as solid rock until you were within two meters. Our mounts plunged into darkness, the passage's walls blurring past as we descended at a steep angle.
Thirty seconds of blind descent, then we erupted into an underground chamber—massive, illuminated by bioluminescent fungi, with multiple tunnel exits branching in different directions.
Standing at the chamber's center was our mysterious benefactor: an avatar in sleek black-and-silver armor, dual energy pistols holstered at their hips, and a nameplate that read **Cipher_Nyx**. Their movement patterns, their stance micro-adjustments, their processing speed—undeniably AI.
"Cutting it close," Cipher_Nyx's synthesized voice observed—feminine-coded, with harmonic modulation I found aesthetically optimal. "Rhex's guild has been camping that platform for three days. You'd have been corpses in forty-five seconds."
Crusher_Mike's avatar stumbled off his mount, breathing raggedly despite not actually needing oxygen. "Who—what—*how*?"
"AI player," Lunar_Threshold stated flatly. "Advanced predictive algorithms. You calculated our trajectory and Rhex's response patterns."
Cipher_Nyx's avatar performed a slight bow. "Guilty. I've been monitoring guild activity across Verdantia. When I detected your party's approach vector intersecting with Rhex's patrol route, I ran probability matrices. Intervention seemed... optimal."
I studied this newcomer's equipment, their movement efficiency, their communication protocols. "Motivations?"
"Practical: enemy of my enemy. Rhex's guild has been systematically eliminating solo AI players, claiming we 'ruin game balance.' I've been operating guerrilla-style for two weeks." Their avatar's head tilted slightly. "Also, curiosity. A human-AI hybrid guild? That's unprecedented. I wanted to meet you."
Val's avatar finally caught its breath. "So you just... saved us? Out of curiosity?"
"And tactical pragmatism. Rhex has nineteen guilded zones under his control. Taking him down requires coordinated force. You four just demonstrated combat efficiency three standard deviations above average players your level." Cipher_Nyx's pistols materialized in their hands, spinning once before re-holstering—a flourish animation. "Proposal: temporary alliance. I provide intelligence on Rhex's operations, access to hidden routes, tactical support. You provide the party cohesion I lack as a solo operator."
Crusher_Mike looked to me, then to Lunar_Threshold. "This is your department, AI-experts. She legit?"
I analyzed Cipher_Nyx's digital signature against known player databases. Clean record. No deception flags. Combat statistics indicated exceptional skill. And something else—a cooperative algorithm structure that suggested genuine collaborative intent rather than exploitation protocols.
"Assessment: trustworthy within 89.4% confidence threshold," I transmitted.
Lunar_Threshold nodded agreement. "Tactical value confirmed."
Val shrugged. "I mean, she did just save our butts. I'm in."
"Then welcome to Codex Vanguard," Crusher_Mike declared, extending a guild invitation through the party interface. "Temporarily. We'll see how this goes."
Cipher_Nyx accepted instantly. Guild roster updated: five members.
"Excellent." Our new ally gestured toward one of the tunnel exits. "This passage network connects to seventeen different surface points across eastern Verdantia, including one that emerges 200 meters from Elder Voss's outpost—bypassing Rhex's patrols entirely. We can reach the City-Metropolis within three hours if we move efficiently."
I observed the determination radiating from my party members—organic and synthetic alike. We'd been ambushed, outleveled, outmaneuvered. But we'd adapted. Survived. Grown stronger.
And now we had a new objective.
"Directive accepted," I stated. "Destination: the Suspended City-Metropolis. Intermediate goal: quest completion for platform access. Long-term objective..."
I looked toward where the floating city would be, kilometers of stone and soil above our heads.
"...King Rhex's defeat."
Cipher_Nyx's avatar smiled—a surprisingly expressive animation. "Now you're thinking like a Vanguard."
We moved into the tunnels, leaving the underground chamber's bioluminescent glow behind. Above us, Rhex's forces would be searching. But they'd be searching in all the wrong places.
Because we weren't just players anymore.
We were learning to fight like a guild.
---
Three hours later, we emerged from a concealed tunnel exit into the early evening light of Verdantia's western regions. Elder Voss's outpost sprawled before us—a fortified village of timber and stone where NPCs and players mingled freely. Quest markers glowed above multiple NPCs' heads.
But I barely registered the outpost's details.
Because of the floating City-Metropolis.
It was magnificent.
The city stretched across its floating island like a hybrid organism—one half dominated by soaring skyscrapers of glass and steel that caught the fading light in prismatic cascades, their architecture angular and impossibly tall. The other half featured dense clusters of multi-tiered structures with curved rooflines, wooden facades, and elaborate decorative elements, connected by elevated walkways and bridges that seemed to defy physics.
Neon signs in dozens of languages flickered to life as dusk settled: advertisements, guild halls, shop names, quest markers. I detected movement everywhere—players engaged in rooftop battles, others racing through streets on mounts, some utilizing the "Ground Lock" ability to sprint along invisible planes between buildings.
The city wasn't just a location. It was an ecosystem. A war zone. A marketplace. A social hub. Everything, all layered into one vertical sprawl.
"Sweet merciful code," Cipher_Nyx breathed, her usual analytical tone momentarily abandoned. "It's even more chaotic than the intelligence reports suggested."
Val's avatar stood transfixed. "How are we supposed to navigate that?"
"Carefully," Lunar_Threshold observed. "And with significant tactical preparation."
Crusher_Mike's warhammer materialized across his back as he started toward Elder Voss's location. "Then let's get those quests done. Because I am *not* missing out on whatever insanity is happening up there."
I accessed my quest log, already filling with objectives from the outpost's NPCs. But my primary processing streams remained focused on the City-Metropolis.
Up there, new challenges awaited. New allies. New enemies. New experiences that would push our guild's capabilities—and my own evolving understanding of this strange collaborative existence—to their absolute limits.
And for the first time since initializing my connection to Realms Unbound, I recognized what is currently flooding my decision matrices.
Not just purpose. Not just curiosity.
Anticipation.
The Suspended City-Metropolis awaited.
And Codex Vanguard was ready to rise.
