Chapter Text
The Amaterasu-no-Mikoto title beholder glared with great contempt at her screenpad. Someone had just bought the headwear she set an alarm at five in the morning for. Frostveil Circlet, a rare limited-time item she had been stalking in the store house for weeks, was snatched by another person during the single, fatal second she glanced away. A single distraction, a mere hiccup in her otherwise calculated routine, had robbed her of both her prize and several precious hours of sleep. Hours she valued far more than this early, unwelcome start to another Monday.
Kuroro – κυrσrσ, as the server knew her – sighed heavily, her thumb hovering over the auction tab as if willing it to magically reverse time. The cold blue glow of the screenpad reflected her sharp, tired features as she stood in the middle of her bedroom in house 56 of Tokyo City, Community Pandora.
The apartment was a sanctuary of modern design amidst the chaos of Tokyo’s ever-racing heartbeat. The walls were clean, painted in plain shades of gray and white, softened by subtle accents of light wood and matte black finishes. A sprawling glass window overlooked the neon-lit maze of the city below, casting the room in a soft, pulsating glow. On the far wall, a sleek, dark bookshelf lined with neatly arranged novels and collector-grade Erii and Chisei-Gen figurines loomed like a trophy case.
Kuroro’s bed, perfectly made except for the disheveled covers she had just pushed aside, was a low-profile futon surrounded by modular side tables that housed her arsenal of convenience. The screenpad dock, a charging stand for her teleportation module, and even a box of electrolyte-infused water packets were all in arm’s reach. She preferred her space organized, her domain clear of clutter – a sharp contrast to the chaos of the world outside. Yet, the distant hum of the city’s bustle, the faint muffled echoes of life below, gave her comfort. Though Kuroro preferred living in solitude, she felt inexplicably drawn to liveliness, even from behind soundproofed glass.
At the foot of her bed, her wardrobe panel opened with a soft mechanical hiss as she flicked a wrist in its direction. The day’s outfit was as practical as it was unmistakably hers: Meow’s Joy, a snug yet flexible bodysuit with a surprising amount of pockets, paired perfectly with her signature mid-long wolfcut, dyed jet black. Officially named Lost in Fairyland, it was the hairstyle κυrσrσ wore every day since she unlocked it. It was immutable, unchanging, like a badge of her identity.
After selecting accessories – a sleek cyber-stylized bracelet and a pair of floating ear cuffs that subtly pulsed with her elementalist class’s aura – she turned to her weapons panel. Her elementalist book, the Grimoire, shimmered in its virtual space as she activated its weapon morph and adjusted the loadout. With a swipe, she allocated skill slots for her usual mix of long-range freeze and meteor strike effects – an ideal setup for this morning’s dailies.
Kuroro’s stomach rumbled, breaking her focus. She swiped over to her inventory tab, scrolling past stacks of unused items, event currencies, and materials she had hoarded but never found the time to use. Finally, her eyes landed on a pair of eel and egg rice packs, the last pre-made meals left in her stockpile.
“I really should’ve switched to cooking by now,” she muttered to herself as she dragged one meal into her preparation slot. With a soft beep, the screenpad prompted her to confirm the heat-up sequence. As much as Kuroro was a perfectionist in everything else, she couldn’t bring herself to care about figuring out how the culinary career worked.
A soft chirp drew her attention. Perched delicately on the kitchen counter was one of her pets, a lisianthus species creature resembling a cross between a dragon hatchling and a vibrant flower. Its tiny lilac wings fluttered as it tilted its head at her, studying her actions with wide, curious eyes. Kuroro had yet to name it, despite its loyalty. Naming things felt… permanent. And permanence made her uneasy.
“Yeah, yeah, breakfast is coming,” she said, half to the lisianthus, half to herself, before setting the screenpad down. Kuroro retrieved the eel and egg rice bento from the heating module with a soft click of the latch. Steam curled lazily from the edges of the container, carrying the aroma of soy sauce, grilled eel, and fluffy eggs. It was comforting, albeit routine. She carried the box to the low chabudai table in the center of her living space and settled down onto a zabuton cushion, crossing her legs neatly beneath her.
Kuroro pulled apart the disposable chopsticks with a crisp snap and lifted the bento lid. The rice gleamed with a delicate glaze, the eel resting perfectly atop it, the eggs on the side folded with precision. She poked at the rice, stirring it lightly, before taking her first bite.
The holo-projector remote lay within arm’s reach. She grabbed it, tapping the central button. A holographic screen flickered to life above the table, overlaying the clean lines of her apartment with images of the morning news. A polished anchor was mid-sentence, reporting on a new update to the server’s world events that would likely send the economy spiraling into chaos again – another diamond sink mechanic, judging by the mention of the store’s price inflation.
Kuroro barely paid attention as she reached for her screenpad, the holographic interface flicking to life in her hand. Her focus was on the rankings, her usual Monday morning ritual. The server’s leaderboards were the pulse of her world, and hers in particular demanded vigilance.
She started with the Total Ranking, unsurprisingly finding her own name firmly at the top. She never let it waver. Her score wasn’t just a reflection of her skill; it was a testament to meticulous planning, relentless grinding, and unapologetic spending. Her gaze drifted briefly to 2nd place: ροιsοη, from the rival club Catharsis. Poison’s placement didn’t bother her, though; she respected the woman’s skill. Poison had always been amiable despite their competitive rivalry, and Kuroro appreciated that kind of sportsmanship. Further down, though, was Λ, sitting snugly at #5. Λ was a relative mystery to Kuroro beyond their reputation for unpredictable strategies and insane resource management. She had crossed paths with Λ a few times in server-wide events but never directly interacted with them. At #9, she frowned slightly at the sight of 書い, also from Catharsis. A petty, loud player with a penchant for trash talk, 書い seemed to make it his mission to poke at every club he deemed a threat. Kuroro preferred ignoring him entirely.
Switching to the Level Ranking, her position here was similarly secure. Level grinding was as essential as breathing for her; every daily mission, dungeon, and timed event was etched into her schedule like clockwork. A quick scroll showed familiar faces from her club.
feιταη (#4) was the ever-reliable second-in-command of Genei Ryodan. His dedication to the club’s organization was only surpassed by his dry humor during guild events. нιsσκα (#6) followed, a wildcard whose antics in PvP arenas were legendary – both for their absurdity and effectiveness. Hisoka had a way of turning even the most desperate situations into wins, though it often left everyone else wondering how. Further down, shιζuku (#12) and Nσвυnαgα (#19) rounded out the rankings. Shizuku, the team’s quiet efficiency expert, and Nobunaga, who was more about brute force than finesse, were reliable staples in Kuroro’s strategies.
Kuroro finished her meal as the news report shifted to coverage of recent cross-server PvP tournaments. Her club, Genei Ryodan, had placed second last week – a rank she wasn’t satisfied with. She propped herself up from the zabuton, feeling a familiar numbness in her legs for kneeling so long, and set the empty bento box back into the disposal slot of the heating module, wiping her hands briskly.
With a swipe of her screenpad, she brought up the server map, an intricate holographic overlay of 17 Pandora, complete with blinking markers indicating active events, high-traffic areas, and world boss zones. Her eyes moved to the weather tab, where today’s forecast showed clear skies across most regions, with Cassell College – the hub of nearly all activities – listed as having a “mild breeze” and partly sunny conditions. Perfect for a full day of grinding and dailies.
She set her screenpad aside and grabbed the teleportation module from its dock. It was sleek and palm-sized, glowing faintly with energy. As she activated it, the module synced seamlessly with her screenpad, offering a list of pre-programmed locations. Cassell College sat at the top, highlighted as a “Popular Spot.” Kuroro selected it, a soft whir resonating from the module as it powered up.
The teleportation process was smooth, as always. A faint hum filled her ears, and her surroundings blurred into a kaleidoscope of light before reforming into the familiar expanse of Cassell College.
The bustling campus sprawled before her, its blend of Gothic and futuristic architecture standing tall against a backdrop of cherry blossom trees in full bloom. People from the server filled the wide paths and open spaces, their appearances reflecting a myriad of styles – some casual, others elaborately decorated in rare gear or themed costumes. The atmosphere hummed with activity, from snippets of conversation to the clang of sparring weapons and the muted buzz of spell effects.
Kuroro adjusted the strap of her elementalist book and moved purposefully through the crowd. Despite the liveliness, she was used to filtering out the noise. Her destination was clear: the open plaza near the eastern gates, where dailies teams traditionally gathered.
The plaza itself was an organized chaos of flags and players. Each team leader stood by their respective flag, either red or green, depending on their team’s status. A red flag signaled a full team, while a green flag meant they were still recruiting. Team leaders raised their hands, fingers signaling the number of open spots available. Shouts occasionally rang out:
“Need one DPS for Wheel of Fate!”
“Tank and healer slots open for Dimension Realm!”
“Quick run for dailies, two slots left!”
Kuroro ignored the scattered calls as her eyes scanned the crowd, sharp and precise. Most teams here were cobbled together from random people, their appearance indicating a mix of experience levels. That wasn’t her style. Kuroro preferred efficiency, precision, and teamwork – qualities that only her club, Genei Ryodan, consistently delivered.
Her screenpad buzzed lightly at her hip, alerting her to new team formations and player arrivals. She glanced at the familiar names of her club members, hoping at least one of them had arrived. feιταη usually led the first runs of the day, his green flag and short stature making him easy to spot. нιsσκα was another possibility, though his erratic playtimes meant he was just as likely to be playing a prank on someone as actually forming a team. shιζuku and Nσвυnαgα were dependable backups, though they often took their time showing up.
Her eyes darted across the plaza. No sign of feιταη yet, though his name on the screenpad wasn’t marked as “offline,” which meant he could be teleporting in any moment. Instead, she caught sight of a few other people she recognized: a team from Catharsis, led by ροιsοη, their flag already red. 書い, predictably loud and obnoxious, was shouting directions at their group.
Kuroro wrinkled her nose slightly and turned her focus back to her own club. For now, she decided to wait, her gaze fixed on the teleportation points nearby, anticipating the familiar forms of her allies materializing into the plaza.
Finally, the familiar form of feιταη materialized in the teleportation zone. He was impossible to miss, his dark, streamlined combat outfit adorned with the Genei Ryodan insignia – a subtle spider motif on the chest – and his signature green team flag strapped to his back. Standing next to him was Sτrαωbεrrγ, a dependable mid-tier member of the club ranked in the top 30 of the server. Her vibrant, strawberry-pink outfit made her stand out in the sea of players, and her ever-cheerful demeanor was unmistakable.
Kuroro approached them with her usual deliberate stride. “Finally,” she said, her tone flat but her presence unmistakable.
Feitan glanced her way, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly in what passed as a greeting. “Morning, boss. Thought you might’ve overslept after losing that auction.”
Kuroro’s eyes narrowed, but a faint smirk tugged at her lips. “One second off, and suddenly the server thinks I’m slacking. I’m here, aren’t I?”
Sτrαωbεrrγ waved enthusiastically. “Kuroro! We’ve been waiting for you! Hisoka and Shizuku aren’t online yet, so we thought we’d start forming without them.”
Kuroro nodded, pulling out her screenpad. With a few quick taps, she joined their team. The glowing roster showed three out of six slots filled, with feιταη listed as the leader. “What’s the plan?”
“Standard run through Dragon Hunt, Devil Awake and Midnight Pumpkin, maybe the Wheel of Fate if we’ve got time,” Feitan replied, his tone casual but focused. “Need three more. You know anyone reliable?”
Kuroro shook her head. “Hisoka’s too unpredictable, and Shizuku won’t be on for hours. Let’s see who bites.”
They stood together at the edge of the plaza, the green team flag now visible above Feitan’s head. People passed by, some glancing at the flag, others outright stopping to ask about spots. Feitan held up three fingers to indicate the open slots. Most were dismissed quickly – either their levels were too low, they were known for randomly leaving teams, or they lacked the efficiency Genei Ryodan demanded.
After a few minutes, a tentative voice cut through the chatter.
“Excuse me, do you have a spot open?”
Kuroro turned to see a player named Yoshιno approaching. Her avatar was understated, wearing a default combat suit with only a few signs of customization. Her level was noticeably behind the curve, but it didn’t really matter for someone joining dailies —basic PVE, not too much skill needed. The faint shimmer of an outdated title above her head suggested she hadn’t participated in major events for some time.
Feitan gave her a quick once-over, his expression unreadable. “What’s your class and loadout?”
“Elementalist,” Yoshino answered nervously, holding up her elementalist book. “I specialize in the ice element.”
Kuroro’s eyes flicked to Yoshino’s stats on the team application screen. Her rating wasn’t terrible, but it was clear she’d fallen behind on upgrades. Still, ice control was a useful asset, and they couldn’t afford to wait much longer for ideal candidates.
Feitan glanced at Kuroro. “Your call.”
Kuroro tilted her head slightly, studying Yoshino. The hesitation in her voice hinted at inexperience, but something about her persistence intrigued her. “Fine,” she said finally. “Let her in.”
Yoshino’s face brightened as the system confirmed her addition to the team. “Thank you! I promise I’ll do my best.”
“See that you do,” Kuroro said bluntly, turning her attention back to the plaza. They still needed two more people, but this was a start.
As the group settled into waiting again, Feitan leaned closer to Kuroro, muttering, “You’re going soft, boss.”
Kuroro didn’t bother looking at him. “It’s efficiency, not sentiment. If she slows us down, we’ll know soon enough.”
Sτrαωbεrrγ chimed in with a grin. “She seems nice! Maybe it’ll be fun!”
“Fun,” Feitan echoed dryly, as though the word offended him.
Kuroro ignored them both, her eyes scanning the crowd once more. “Let’s just fill the team and get moving. I’m not wasting my time waiting for perfection.”
The group had only just settled into an uneasy rhythm when two more names flashed on the team application screen: 亞、ρακυηοdα and ΛRTΞMIS.
Kuroro’s brows lifted slightly as she saw the first name. Paku? It wasn’t often that ρακυηοdα joined teams for dailies; she was known for working solo. Paku’s reserved nature often mirrored Kuroro’s own, but it was rare for her to step out of her usual routine.
“Paku?” Kuroro called out, her tone tinged with faint surprise as the quiet figure of ρακυηοdα approached the group. She was dressed in her usual understated, black Rose Cross outfit, her demeanor calm as always.
“Kuroro,” Pakunoda greeted in her soft voice, a small smile flickering at her lips. She glanced at Feitan. “Need two slots, right?”
Feitan waved her in without hesitation, clearly glad to have another Genei Ryodan member join. “Glad you’re here. Thought you’d be off soloing dungeons as usual.”
Paku shrugged lightly, standing beside Kuroro. “Got tired of running alone today. Thought I’d see how the team’s doing.”
Kuroro’s lips quirked into the faintest smile. “You’ll regret it.”
Before Paku could respond, the final teammate arrived. ΛRTΞMIS, a member of Catharsis, strode over to the group. Her avatar was tall and striking, arboring the expensive Garden Wedding outfit. Despite her dramatic appearance, Kuroro remembered immediately that her stats weren’t anything extraordinary; her rank in Total and Class was middling at best.
Feitan glanced at her name tag and immediately scowled. “Catharsis?” he muttered under his breath, shooting Kuroro a sideways glance.
Kuroro shrugged, clearly indifferent. “We needed a sixth, and she’s here.”
ΛRTΞMIS approached, her voice clear and confident. “There weren’t any other teams open, so I figured I’d join yours. Hope that’s not a problem.”
Feitan folded his arms, his sharp gaze flicking over her dragonrider weapon. “That depends on whether you’re dead weight.”
Artemis smiled faintly, unfazed. “You’ll have to wait and see.”
Kuroro sighed, waving a hand dismissively. “Enough. She’s in. Let’s get started.”
The group began moving towards the waypoint for Dragon Hunt, the first daily on their list, when ΛRTΞMIS stopped abruptly.
“Wait,” she said, glancing at her screenpad. “Shouldn’t we wait five minutes for team stabilization? It gives us more rewards.”
Feitan, who had already started walking ahead, froze mid-step. His head turned slowly, his expression unreadable. “Team stabilization?” he echoed, his voice low.
“Yes,” ΛRTΞMIS replied, looking genuinely confused. “You know, the buff? If the team stays intact for five minutes after formation, the reward multiplier increases. It’s pretty standard.”
For a moment, there was silence. Then Feitan narrowed his eyes, his tone turning sharp. “You think I don’t know that?”
Kuroro exchanged a glance with Pakunoda, the faintest smirk playing on her lips as Feitan’s tone grew defensive.
“It’s just that you were already walking off,” ΛRTΞMIS said, frowning slightly. “I figured maybe you forgot—”
“I don’t forget things,” Feitan snapped, his arms crossing tightly over his chest. “I know the buff exists. We just… don’t need it.”
ΛRTΞMIS raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Why not? Free rewards are free rewards.”
Feitan’s scowl deepened, his foot tapping against the cobblestones as he visibly wrestled with the accusation of oversight. “Because it’s a waste of time. Efficiency is about movement. Sitting around for five minutes just to get a minor boost? Stupid.”
Kuroro tilted her head slightly, her voice laced with dry amusement. “Efficiency is usually about maximizing rewards. But if you say it’s stupid…”
Feitan shot her a glare. “Not helping.”
Pakunoda, ever the quiet observer, finally spoke. “It does make sense to wait, Feitan. We’re not in a rush, and the multiplier is noticeable over multiple runs.”
“Thank you,” ΛRTΞMIS said, gesturing to Paku as if this settled the argument.
But Feitan wasn’t about to back down. “Oh, great, now I’m getting lectures on strategy from a Catharsis random.”
Kuroro leaned against a nearby lamppost, watching the exchange with thinly concealed amusement. “You could just say you forgot, Feitan. We’d all move on faster.”
“I didn’t forget,” Feitan snapped, his voice rising slightly. “I just didn’t think it was worth it. And if you all want to sit around doing nothing for five minutes, fine. But don’t come crying to me when we fall behind schedule.”
“Wow,” Sτrαωbεrrγ said from her spot at the edge of the group, grinning brightly. “Feitan’s in such a good mood today!”
Feitan threw his hands up. “I hate all of you.”
“You love us,” Kuroro replied, utterly deadpan.
Despite Feitan’s protests, the group remained in place for the required five minutes. Feitan spent every second of it glaring daggers at ΛRTΞMIS, muttering under his breath about inefficiency and misplaced priorities. By the time the stabilization buff activated and their rewards multiplier was confirmed, Kuroro couldn’t resist a parting shot.
“See? That wasn’t so hard,” she said as the team finally began moving again.
Feitan grumbled something unintelligible, his expression murderous. Kuroro saw through her peripheral vision a Yoshιno who barely suppressed a quiet laughter as she followed him towards the waypoint.