Arriving at Kyle’s guild house, his guild members froze, their eyes widening in disbelief as an NPC stepped through the doors.

  That shouldn’t have been possible—NPCs couldn’t enter a player’s guild house unless they became followers.

  But this one hadn’t.

  If he had, they would have known.

  Whispers broke out among them, but Kyle ignored the stares, walking past with practiced ease.

  Once inside his private office, Aren leaned against the desk, his expression unreadable.

  "You wonder what your role is among the Chosen?"

  Kyle nodded.

  Aren’s gaze was steady. "Of the six, you alone have a guild."

  Kyle frowned. "But why me? There are other guild leaders—stronger ones."

  Aren smirked. "Because you were the first to form a guild. That matters."

  Kyle’s brows furrowed.

  "Your guild may not boast the strongest expert players," Aren continued, "but it is filled with elites—and more importantly, it is built on trust. The bond between your members is rare. That is what sets you apart."

  Kyle nodded slowly, processing the weight of those words.

  Aren's smirk deepened. "And then there’s Nash. His presence in this game? That was your doing. That made you even more of a candidate."

  Kyle stiffened. "How do you know that?"

  Aren chuckled, tilting his head. "Are you really still surprised by what I know?"

  Kyle sighed, waving it off. There was no point in questioning it.

  Instead, he turned to the bigger issue.

  "The merge." His voice was firm. "What do you know?"

  Aren’s amusement dimmed.

  "When the time is right," he said simply, "you will know."

  Kyle’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t push. Not yet.

  Instead, he asked the next burning question.

  "What’s the difference between the Rift and Eidolon?"

  For the first time, Aren’s smirk returned, but there was a glint of something else—something deeper.

  "Now that," Aren said, "is something I can answer."

  He crossed his arms.

  "The Rift and Eidolon are one and the same."

  Kyle blinked. "What?"

  "The Rift is Eidolon's AI—a sentient consciousness that governs its existence. Your world stumbled upon a technology it barely understands and unknowingly projected Eidolon as a ‘game.’" Aren’s golden eyes gleamed. "But make no mistake. Eidolon is real."

  Kyle’s breath caught.

  His mind reeled at the implications.

  And then, a terrifying thought struck him.

  "The governments…" he whispered. "Do they know?"

  Aren chuckled. The sound was light, but there was an ominous weight behind it.

  "They do now."

  Kyle felt a chill crawl down his spine.

  Because he understood exactly what Aren meant.

  The moment when Eidolon and Earth had bled into each other, when players saw their homeworld through the game, when people outside the game witnessed impossible things appearing in their reality—

  That was the moment the truth became undeniable.

  The merge wasn’t coming.

  It had already begun.

  ---

  Seraphine took a deep breath, steadying herself. The floating island of Destinar pulsed with unseen magic, the air thick with potential.

  Kaelith had left her with nothing but a task—master Formation.

  No guidance. No instruction.

  Just the tools to fail until she succeeded.

  She rolled her shoulders. Then let’s begin.

  ---

  Seraphine exhaled slowly, her fingers tightening around the Runic Chisel as she surveyed the empty pedestals before her.

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  The Runic Accumulator was the safest choice. At 85% success, it was supposed to be simple. Stable. Reliable.

  And yet, doubt gnawed at the back of her mind.

  She chose crystal-etched mana plates, carefully arranging them in a perfect circle. Each placement had to be precise—even a slight misalignment could throw everything off.

  Taking a steadying breath, she began to engrave the sigils.

  Her strokes were deliberate, but as she carved the intricate lines, she felt a pulse of resistance—as if the island itself was testing her.

  The threads of fate in the air shimmered around her, unraveling and reweaving, watching.

  Her heart pounded.

  She gritted her teeth, focusing, making sure every sigil connected seamlessly to the next.

  Finally, she placed a mana crystal at the center, anchoring the flow of energy. If she had done everything correctly, the formation would store excess mana over time, cycling it smoothly through the glyphs.

  If she had made a mistake…

  She inhaled, steadying herself.

  And activated the core glyph.

  For a moment—nothing.

  Then—

  The sigils flared to life.

  A deep hum resonated through the plates as they absorbed the latent magic of the island. The mana crystal pulsed, light rippling outward in steady waves.

  Seraphine’s breath caught.

  It worked.

  Her fingers trembled slightly as she reached out, brushing her hand over the formation. The power within it was stable, smooth, effortless.

  A laugh bubbled up in her throat.

  She had done it. On the first try.

  A wide grin spread across her face as she straightened, a flicker of pride swelling in her chest.

  One down.

  And for the first time, she felt like she truly belonged here.

  ---

  Seraphine rolled her shoulders, shaking off the brief surge of confidence from her first success.

  The Kinetic Disruption Field was meant to slow enemy movements, distorting the very energy that propelled them forward. At 75% success, it wasn’t overly complicated, but the margin for failure was steep.

  She selected floating metal orbs, placing them in an evenly spaced pattern around her. Using a Lightning-Infused Arcane Quill, she carefully inscribed the movement-dampening runes onto their surfaces. The ink crackled, threads of electricity dancing along the lines as it bonded with the enchanted metal.

  This had to work.

  She activated the formation—

  And the world lurched violently.

  Her breath hitched as an invisible force yanked her forward instead of slowing her down.

  Her feet skidded against the ground, barely keeping balance before she tumbled to her knees.

  She had reversed the effect.

  Seraphine bit back a curse, fingers pressing into the dirt as she caught her breath.

  She had made the wrong calculations. Instead of dampening motion, she had amplified it.

  Her heart pounded as she dispelled the formation, her grip on the quill tightening.

  She adjusted the polarity of the glyphs, tweaking the energy output to match what was needed. The orbs hummed again, their energy realigning.

  She activated it a second time.

  The moment the runes flared—the field collapsed.

  Nothing. No effect. No pull.

  The formation had burned itself out instantly.

  Seraphine gritted her teeth, frustration flaring hot in her chest.

  Her failures were stacking up, and she hated the feeling.

  One more try.

  She reinforced the sigils, double-checking every line, every flicker of energy. This time, she calibrated the charge properly, ensuring the energy cycled through the formation instead of dispersing.

  She inhaled sharply, pushing aside the tension coiling in her stomach—

  And activated it again.

  The air thickened instantly.

  She took a step forward—and her movements dragged, slowed, like wading through unseen currents.

  It worked.

  It worked.

  Seraphine let out a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding.

  She turned her hand over, flexing her fingers, feeling the resistance in the air as the formation did exactly what it was meant to do.

  A small thrill ran up her spine, replacing the frustration with a spark of triumph.

  But that victory was stained by the two failures that came before it.

  Her fists clenched.

  That wasn’t good enough.

  ---

  Seraphine hesitated.

  The Celestial Alignment Array was far more complex. At 65% success, the chances of disaster were high.

  She knelt and etched spell-amplifying sigils into the ground using Celestial Chalk infused with Gold Essence.

  She had to align them perfectly with the island’s astral ley lines, or the formation would destabilize.

  Holding her breath, she activated it—

  A violent surge of golden energy erupted outward, sending her flying.

  Failed.

  Seraphine groaned, pushing herself up.

  Second attempt— the energy fizzled before it could activate.

  Third attempt— the leyline positioning was wrong.

  Fourth attempt— she realigned the sigils, refining the energy pathways before trying again.

  This time, the array flared to life—

  And held.

  Seraphine exhaled, hands trembling.

  Four failures. One success.

  This was taking more out of her than she had expected.

  ---

  Seraphine tensed.

  This one was different. Instead of being carved into metal or stone, the Astral Veil had to be etched into the air itself.

  At 55% success, she wasn’t optimistic.

  Using a Mana-Engraved Wand, she carefully inscribed the glyphs midair, tracing invisible lines of energy.

  She activated the veil—

  And watched in horror as her reflection shattered.

  Her body split into distorted, ghostly afterimages, flickering like broken glass.

  Failed.

  She clenched her jaw.

  Second attempt— the veil flickered, warping the air but leaving her partially visible.

  Third attempt— the energy collapsed entirely.

  Her fingers tightened around the wand.

  Fourth attempt— she adjusted the energy intake, modifying the sigils to allow for a smoother connection.

  She activated it—

  The air shimmered—then went completely still.

  She looked down.

  She was gone.

  She had done it.

  Four failures. One success.

  She exhaled, trying to steady her hands. The energy drain was becoming noticeable.

  ---

  Seraphine wiped sweat from her brow.

  This was it. The hardest formation.

  35% success.

  Short-range teleportation.

  She placed two metal plates, inscribing the teleportation glyphs using Astral Ink. The symbols pulsed, linking the two points together.

  This was dangerous. A single miscalculation, and she could teleport wrong—or not at all.

  She stepped onto the plate, her heart hammering.

  She activated the formation—

  And the world blinked out.

  Pain.

  Seraphine hit the ground hard, gasping.

  Her entire body ached. She had teleported only halfway, her legs nearly phasing out of sync before she was thrown out of the void.

  Failed.

  She gritted her teeth. Again.

  Second attempt— partial teleportation. She appeared sideways, disoriented.

  Third attempt— failure. The teleportation didn’t activate at all.

  If I fail again, if I miscalculate even once, I could end up somewhere I can't escape from.

  Her muscles tensed with frustration.

  She needed to refine the leyline connection.

  Taking a deep breath, she redrew the core runes, ensuring stability.

  She stepped onto the plate.

  Activated the formation—

  And the world blinked out.

  For a split second, there was nothing.

  Then—smooth transition.

  Seraphine stumbled, breath catching.

  She turned—the other plate was ten feet behind her.

  She had done it.

  ---

  From the edge of the clearing, Kaelith watched in silence.

  His golden eyes flickered with something unreadable.

  Seraphine wiped sweat from her forehead, her hands still tingling from the exertion.

  She had succeeded.

  After fourteen failures.

  Her arms trembled as the exhaustion settled in.

  Kaelith finally spoke. “Good.”

  Then his smirk returned.

  “Now do it again. Without failing.”

  Seraphine let out a shaky laugh, pushing herself to her feet.

  Her training had only just begun.