"Long ago, on Aetheris, a new species was born. Compared to the realm's ancient lineages, they were young, remarkably average in every way, and deeply underestimated.
They were called the Devonians. Perhaps blinded by their own racial superiority, the older races failed to notice the unique spark of creativity hidden within this upstart species—an oversight that became the Devonians' greatest boon.
They couldn't casually toss out magic to alter the weather, summon tornadoes, or call down meteors. But they had an unparalleled mind for creation. Using their wits, they wedded the logic of metal and machinery with the power of runes, forging engines capable of defying the elements themselves. Before long, the species everyone had dismissed rose to become one of the dominant powers of Aetheris. Suddenly, they were too formidable to ever be ignored again."
"Machines," Adrien murmured, leaning in with clear interest.
"Exactly," Vera nodded. "The steam land trains, the guns we're carrying right now—all of it traces back to them." She paused, offering a wry smile. "Well, more accurately, they built wonders, and what we use today are just watered-down copies."
"I see. So what happened to them?"
"According to Gavrilo, there was a massive war. Piecing his dialogue together, it happened at least three millennia ago. They went completely extinct."
"Extinct?" Adrien frowned.
"Yes. And they weren't the only ones. Half the world's species wiped each other out. Honestly, the current state of Aetheris is in a total decline, both in magic and technology."
Adrien tapped his chin, analysing the information. "If that's the direction the game lore is heading, then there's a high chance the upcoming patches will have players discovering and restoring things from that bygone era."
"That's a given," Vera agreed. "Oh, and one last thing from Gavrilo—the current generation of humans in-game? They're just the devolved descendants of the Devonians."
Adrien grinned. "Now that is interesting."
Before Adrien could say another word, a familiar, crystal-clear chime rang in his ears.
'A message? Let's see who's pinging me.'
But the moment the notification expanded in his vision, the blood drained straight from Adrien's face, leaving him an unhealthy shade of pale.
"Hey, Vera, I—I have to pull the plug," he stammered, his sudden panic breaking all roleplay. "I missed breakfast. I've almost missed lunch. My mom is going to absolutely murder me."
Vera blinked, startled, and reflexively glanced at the system clock floating in the corner of her HUD. As the real-world time registered, a visible tremor shook her posture. "Oh... oh, no. I am so incredibly screwed. My mom is going to skin me alive. We are hours past schedule. Logging out now!"
"At least we're in a safe zone," Adrien managed, his voice tight. "We can drop right here."
With a swift tap of the menu, Elias triggered the log-out sequence. The sprawling fantasy world of Aetheris dissolved into a grid of digital light, leaving his avatar, Adrien, slumped safely underneath a virtual desk.
The heavy immersion of the haptic rig faded, replaced by the sterile hum of his room—and the immediate, terrifying reality of his mother standing over him.
Helena stood like a statue, glaring down at him with an intensity that felt both smouldering and sub-zero.
"What time is it, Elias?"
Elias instinctively ducked his head, his throat tightening as his voice shrank. "Sorry, Mom. I totally lost track of time. We were right in the middle of a dungeon run, and—"
"That is not an excuse for missing both breakfast and lunch," Helena cut him off, her voice a sharp, disciplined blade that brooked no argument. "No matter how consumed you are by your digital amusements, you do not neglect your health. And you do not disrupt this household's schedule."
Right on cue, Elias's stomach completely betrayed him. It let out a loud, violent roar that echoed loudly off the high ceilings of his bedroom. A hot blush of pure shame crawled up his neck, burning his ears.
Helena closed her eyes, letting out a slow, controlled sigh that signalled she was mastering her temper. "Go. Wash the sweat off your face, present yourself like a civilised human being, and head down to the dining room. Your father is already waiting."
Ten minutes later, freshly scrubbed and wearing a stiff, collared shirt, Elias stepped into the vast, echoing silence of the dining room.
The space felt overwhelmingly empty. At the far end of the long mahogany table, the grand, high-backed chair at the absolute head sat vacant—a looming reminder of his grandfather's imposing absence. With the patriarch away, Elias's father, Alexander, sat to the right of the head chair. He had long since finished his own meal. The only things remaining on the pristine white tablecloth before him were a single, empty porcelain espresso cup and a crystal glass of sparkling water.
Helena stood a few paces behind her husband, leaning against the edge of the marble fireplace with her arms crossed. Her silent, watchful presence seemed to double the pressure in the room.
As Elias slid into a seat a few chairs down, he felt himself shrinking under his father's heavy, disappointed gaze.
"So, Son," Alexander began. His voice was dangerously quiet, his eyes fixed on the remaining water swirling in his glass. "Why?"
Before Elias could attempt an answer, the heavy double doors of the butler's pantry swung open in absolute silence. The house butler and two maids glided into the room like ghosts, their movements tense, clearly desperate to perform their duties and escape before the storm broke.
The kitchen had executed their late-service protocol with practised perfection. A silver tray was lowered, and a heavy cloche lifted to reveal a perfectly seared Wagyu minute steak resting beside a rich, glistening square of truffle Dauphinoise potatoes. A side of crisp, chilled asparagus salad followed, along with a basket of warm brioche rolls. The rich, buttery scent of melted Gruyère and truffle instantly hit Elias's nose, making his mouth water despite the suffocating tension.
Even though his stomach was screaming for food, Elias didn't dare touch his silverware. He swallowed hard, forcing his eyes up from the luxury of his plate to meet his father's gaze.
"We were stuck inside a dungeon," Elias stammered, his voice sounding entirely too small for the grand room. "And it was... it was incredibly gruelling."
Alexander didn't blink. He cast a brief, cool look at the perfectly cooked steak, then brought his eyes back to his son.
"Gruelling," his father repeated, flattening the word with quiet sarcasm. "Tell me, Elias. Do the virtual chefs in your dungeon also work sixteen-hour days to source Wagyu and shave fresh truffles for you? Because the ones downstairs do. Your mother and I expect you to respect their time, and ours, more than a video game."
Alexander made a subtle, dismissive gesture with his hand toward the plate. "Eat before it gets cold. And while you chew, you will explain to me how a seventeen-year-old heir to this family justifies letting a screen dictate his life."
The rich aroma of the truffle Dauphinoise and seared Wagyu hit Elias like a physical wave. His hands trembled slightly, a tense mix of ravenous hunger and pure nerves, as he finally picked up his silver knife and fork. He sliced off a small piece of meat, his mouth watering against his will, and forced himself to chew at a respectable pace under his parents' suffocating gaze.
"So what happened?" Alexander asked. His voice remained entirely level, though his sharp eyes tracked the precise, nervous movements of Elias's cutlery.
Elias swallowed a rich, buttery bite of the truffle Dauphinoise, carefully resting his knife against the rim of the porcelain to avoid letting it click. "The dungeon Vera and I were planning to raid... you remember I mentioned it?"
"Yes, what of it?" Alexander's brow arched a fraction of an inch.
"Well, even though it's physically located right next to the starting zone, the dungeon itself is actually a high-level instance," Elias explained, his voice gaining a sliver of confidence as he shifted his focus to the mechanics. "And we got trapped inside."
Across the room, Helena subtly shifted her weight, her silent interest piqued despite herself. Alexander paused, his hand hovering an inch above his glass of water.
"Trapped?" his father repeated, the word heavy with scepticism. "In a starter zone?"
"We literally can't leave," Elias said, reaching for a warm brioche roll to help pacify his still-aching stomach. "We can't retrace our steps, and on top of that, the patrolling mobs are massive—high-tier automatons. If we pull aggro, they'll one-shot either of us. We barely scraped by, but an accident separated us."
Elias tore off a piece of the bread, keeping his eyes fixed on his father to gauge his reaction.
"I ended up falling into an arachnid nest," Elias continued, a genuine shudder rippling through his shoulders as the phantom claustrophobia of the digital cave rushed back. "It took everything I had just to navigate out of the tunnels. But I had to sacrifice my gear to survive. I'm completely weaponless and armorless. I was running on a sliver of health when I finally found Vera again. I managed to pull her out of an arachnid's grasp, and we found a safe zone to hide in. But as of right now... we have absolutely no idea how to clear the dungeon or get out."
A heavy silence descended on the dining room once more, broken only by the rhythmic, distant ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner.