Chương 23: The Raid Before the Raid

Carl Sorell ended the call with the kind of smile that made Meno feel like he had signed something even though no paper had appeared. The screen went dark for three seconds. Meno stood in the middle of the penthouse, hands still in his hoodie pockets, trying to decide whether he had just saved his mother or sold a piece of his future with extra steps. Aureliana stood near the window with her arms crossed. She had not looked at him since the deal.

The bodyguard tapped his phone again, and the huge screen came alive with four faces in separate panels. None of them looked like guild masters. Meno could tell immediately. Guild masters had a certain disease in their eyes, the one that came from believing every conversation was a speech waiting for an audience. These looked like officers: people sent to be useful, angry, and disposable if the conversation went badly. Aureliana's mouth tightened.

"Here we go," she said. On screen, the top-left panel showed a square-jawed man in a plain dark jacket, close-cut black hair, military posture, and the kind of calm that felt pre-rehearsed. His tag said Northwatch_Highbanner. In the top-right panel, Sereth_Silverwake muted her side after speaking smoothly to someone offscreen, silver-gray eyes calm beneath black hair pulled into a severe braid. Behind her stood pale shelves and one expensive lamp.

In the bottom-left panel, Vera_Stormhold was a tired-eyed woman in a loose green sweater instead of a suit, her short auburn hair tucked around her face. In the bottom-right panel, Orison sat in a Crownfall-branded jacket, neat, and visibly annoyed to be sharing a call with people outside his guild. His jaw worked once before he said anything. Meno pointed at the screen.

"So are these the people paying me twenty-five thousand credits?" Orison spoke first.

"That payment covers your attendance, not your attitude."

"Great. Then my attitude is free." Vera rubbed her forehead. Sereth smiled without warmth.

"Let us avoid wasting time. You have already proven quite gifted at that on a global scale." Meno looked at Aureliana.

"They always open like this?" She stayed against the window and ignored him completely. Northwatch cleared his throat.

"We are here to inform you of a joint decision."

"That sounds like the start of bullying," Meno said.

"It is not bullying," Northwatch said.

"It is containment."

"That's what organized bullies call it when they find matching shirts." Orison leaned forward.

"Listen carefully. None of the major guild blocs on this call will purchase your Ashen Crown materials. No quest items connected to that chain." Meno blinked, because that was not where he had expected the punch to land.

"You dragged me downtown to tell me you're not buying things?"

"We are telling you," Sereth said, "that the market is closed for anything tied to the Ashen Crown questline until further notice." Meno looked between the four panels.

"That's not how markets work. This is pure blackmail." Vera's mouth twitched, maybe almost a smile, before it vanished.

"The word you want is agreement," she said.

"Temporary, limited, necessary."

"No, I'm pretty sure the word is cartel." Orison's eyes sharpened.

"You have no idea what you stumbled into."

"I got fired into a volcano by Zubra mechanics and respawned next to a dragon. I have a pretty vivid idea." Northwatch did not react to the joke.

"The quest you acquired from the Ashen Crown Dragon is not a solo side quest. Our analysts believe it is raid attunement." Aureliana glanced over as Meno's posture shifted. Sereth continued, voice cool and precise.

"The Lost Temple raid, likely. The Old Temple reference, the relic refuse, the dragon hoard, the Morgras beneath the mountain. It aligns with fragments from lore routes in three kingdoms." Vera cut in.

"Not fully confirmed, but close enough that nobody sane lets a red-name nobody finish it on launch week." Meno crossed his arms.

"That is extremely rude and maybe accurate in the least flattering way possible."

"It is too early," Northwatch said.

"No one is ready."

"Sounds like a skill issue." Orison's hand hit his desk. The sound came through the penthouse speakers like a crack.

"If you complete that chain and force a world progression state before the raid groups are prepared, you can break weeks of routing." Meno laughed once.

"Weeks? The game launched today."

"Planned progression," Orison snapped.

"Zone order. Faction unlocks. Dungeon chains. Crafting ladders. Territory pressure. You do not understand the size of what you are touching."

"I understand you got your Colossus kill because I woke Emberhollow." Crownfall's panel went very still. Orison spoke slowly.

"You triggered an event you could not clear. Crownfall cleared it. That is the difference between noise and execution."

"Execution?" Meno stepped closer to the screen.

"You mean numbers, tents, scouts, feeder parties, and twenty people cleaning up after the idiot found the road. You're welcome." Vera sighed.

"This is going well." Sereth looked at Orison with open irritation.

"Stop feeding him."

"He needs to understand consequences," Orison said.

"I understand consequences," Meno said.

"I have an account lock, two pending rewards, a dragon quest." Northwatch leaned forward. His voice stayed level, which somehow made him harder to ignore than Orison.

"If you continue the Ashen Crown quest, every guild represented here marks you hostile. You will be hunted. You will not cross roads, trade safely, enter contested zones, or sell information without consequences." Meno's fingers dug into his sleeves.

"PK list."

"Yes."

"For doing a quest the game gave me."

"For opening a raid attunement before the server can absorb it," Northwatch said. Meno turned to Aureliana.

"This is bullying." She did not answer. Vera spoke before the silence could grow.

"It is ugly. It is also practical. My people have been awake since launch planning routes, timers, contingencies. One wrong unlock can wipe out all of it. You think this is about your pride. It is not."

"Then why does everyone keep aiming at it?" Sereth's eyes narrowed.

"Because you keep putting it in the way." Meno pointed at the screen.

"You offered me a hundred gold per item."

"I did," Sereth said.

"Before we understood the probable attunement consequences." Vera gave her a dry look.

"Silverwake understood enough to bid fast." Sereth's smile did not move.

"Stormhold understood enough to pay for absence."

"Ladies," Northwatch said.

"Don't 'ladies' me," Vera said from the Stormhold panel.

"Your people were sniffing around the marsh gate before Crownfall even left Emberhollow." Orison scoffed.

"Highbanner telling anyone not to rush content is historical comedy." Northwatch's jaw shifted.

"Crownfall harvested a zone event it did not trigger and now wants moral standing." Meno watched them start fighting each other and tried not to enjoy it too much.

"Okay," he said.

"So you all hate each other. Great. Why exactly do I care?" When they stopped, the room felt colder. Vera answered first.

"Because none of us need to like each other to make your game miserable."

"Try." Aureliana straightened.

"Meno." He stepped closer to the screen.

"No, seriously. Try. You put me on a PK list, maybe I put you on mine." Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site. Orison laughed.

"You?"

"I killed a Threat??? elemental with a Common II sword, farmed orcs with a stolen training dummy, got Titan II by falling off a ledge with a dragon spike, and pulled the Veyrath down hard enough that you're doing a crisis call in fancy little boxes. Are we sure I'm the one you want to make creative?" For the first time, nobody had an immediate answer. Sereth broke it quietly.

"Creativity is not the same as power."

"No," Meno said.

"But it gets there in ugly ways." Northwatch's face remained severe.

"You are outnumbered."

"Always."

"Outfunded."

"Usually."

"Out-organized."

"Obviously."

"Then take the warning." Meno smiled, and it was not a good expression.

"I did. I'm warning you back." Vera leaned back in her chair.

"He is going to do it." Orison's mouth tightened.

"Then he gets buried."

"Good luck," Meno said.

"I respawn badly." He turned away from the screen. Aureliana pushed off the window.

"Where are you going?"

"Out."

"The guild call is not finished."

"It is for me."

"Meno—" He was already walking. The bodyguard moved near the door, but not to block him. He opened it instead, then stepped into the corridor first. Aureliana followed, angry enough that her heels struck the floor harder than necessary. Meno stopped outside the penthouse, breathing through his nose, as the bodyguard closed the door behind them and handed him a phone from inside his jacket. It was thin, dark, and seamless, with a screen that woke to his face without him touching it.

The model name gleamed at the bottom edge in tiny silver letters. He had seen ads for it and skipped them because rent existed.

"This yours?"

"Yours now," the bodyguard said. His voice was low and direct, the first time he had spoken more than a few words.

"Throw away the old phone. It is compromised. Use this one. Do not put the number online. Do not type it into job boards. Do not hand it to chat. Do not be a moron." Meno stared.

"That was a lot of don'ts."

"You needed them." Fair. The bodyguard continued, "The deposit arrives within an hour. Contact your mother. Tell her she will receive a job offer through a proxy hiring agency soon. She should take it. Details can be arranged later." Meno's throat tightened before he could armor up.

"Already?" The bodyguard did not blink.

"Mr. Sorell does not enjoy delays." Meno looked down at the phone. Only one contact had been preloaded. Aureliana Sorell He glanced at her. She was still sulking, arms crossed, gaze aimed somewhere past his shoulder like she could ignore him into a lower tax bracket.

"I guess that's it," Meno said.

"I can't wait to go back to playing the game. I'm already sick of dealing with people." Aureliana's head snapped toward him.

"You are about to buy a VR rig, aren't you?" Meno frowned.

"Maybe."

"Do not buy some expensive chair because you think that counts as upgrading." She sounded irritated in a way that had less poison in it and more practical disgust.

"Get a full-body immersion capsule. A real one. KairoDyne Soma-X7, at minimum."

"At minimum," Meno repeated.

"That sounds like it costs a disease."

"About twenty thousand."

"No."

"Yes."

"That is too expensive." She stepped closer.

"Are you serious about the top spot or not?" Meno's jaw tightened. Aureliana pointed toward his wrist.

"Your class is physical rhythm under pressure. Repetition, timing, full-body movement, impact control. Haptic trash will wreck you before your rank ever matters. You can gamble your account all you want, but do not be cheap with the machine connected to your actual body."

"Why do you care?" Aureliana's face closed. She huffed, turned, and walked to the elevator with the bodyguard behind her, stepping inside without looking back when the doors opened. Meno stayed in the corridor, holding a phone worth more than his current rig.

"Great talk," he said. Once the doors closed, Meno took the other elevator down alone. The ride felt longer alone. The phone sat heavy in his hand despite being almost weightless. Twenty thousand for a capsule. Twenty-five thousand incoming. A job for his mother. Guilds threatening to put him on PK lists. Carl Sorell asking for Marielle on a mythic item. Aureliana being right in the most annoying possible way. No point holding back. Meno ordered the KairoDyne Soma-X7 before he even left the hotel lobby.

The walk home took him out of the rich center and back toward the parts of Vernova where buildings got shorter, sidewalks got narrower, and neon signs advertised junk food. The city felt louder outside The Pearl. Cars whispered by. Delivery bikes cut between lanes. Drunk people laughed outside a bar. Sea wind pushed between towers and carried the smell of salt, oil, and rain not yet falling. Halfway home, he called his mother. She answered on the third ring.

"Hello?"

"Mom. It's me." A pause.

"Meno? This is a new number."

"Yeah. Old one got… compromised."

"What happened?"

"Don't worry about that."

"That has never once helped me worry less." He rubbed his face with his free hand.

"You're going to get a job offer soon. Through a hiring agency. It's legitimate. Good pay, easy work, benefits. Take it." Silence. Then, very softly, "What did you do?"

"Negotiated."

"Meno."

"It's not bad." He looked down the street toward the cheaper lights of home.

"I asked for something useful."

"You should have asked for something for yourself."

"This is for myself," he said. His mother did not answer right away. The sea wind moved down the block, lifting a loose receipt against a lamppost. When she spoke again, her voice had changed. She sounded tired, but the tiredness had loosened a little.

"You should not have had to do that."

"I know."

"You are sure it is real?"

"Yes."

"You are sure I will not embarrass you if I ask questions?" Meno's throat tightened.

"Ask all the questions. Make them earn it." A small breath. Almost a laugh. Almost not.

"Okay."

"Good."

"And Meno?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you." He was not ready for how much that got to him.

"Don't make it weird."

"You called me to give me a job and told me not to make it weird."

"Exactly."

"I love you." He looked up at the dark windows of the apartments ahead.

"Yeah," he said.

"Me too." He ended the call before his voice could do anything public, even without a stream. By the time he got home, the deposit had arrived. Twenty-five thousand credits sat in his account with a transaction note so bland it could have been written by a wall. The capsule order confirmation arrived next. Expedited delivery. White-glove install. Stupid premium fee. Meno accepted everything before fear could negotiate him down. Veyrath was still down.

He checked from the old rig, then the new phone, then the desktop browser, as if the game would apologize on the third device. Emergency maintenance. He collapsed onto his bed to rest his eyes for ten minutes, forgot to set an alarm, and accidentally donated eight hours to sleep. Meno woke to knocking on his door with a sound less human than it should have been. For a few seconds, he did not understand the room, the ceiling, or why his mouth tasted like he had been breathing through cardboard.

Then memory arrived in order. The Pearl. The guild threats. His mother's voice. The capsule order. Veyrath still down when he collapsed onto the bed. The knocking came again. Meno rolled off the mattress, got one foot tangled in the blanket, and nearly hit the floor face-first. He caught himself on the bedframe, swore, and stumbled toward the door in yesterday's clothes.

Two technicians stood in the hallway beside three large equipment crates, a folded frame rig, and a narrow lift-cart loaded with matte black panels. The woman in front checked a tablet.

"Meno Varsh?"

"That depends how much trouble this is."

"KairoDyne Soma-X7 expedited installation." Behind her, a broad man with a shaved head lifted one end of a crate like it had insulted his family.

"We need a clear path to the install area." Meno looked back into his apartment. The old rig sat in the living room, cheap, ugly, and plugged into too many cables. Laundry occupied one chair. A stack of instant meal bowls had formed a small civilization near the desk.

"Yeah," he said.

"Give me one second." The woman glanced past him.

"You ordered white-glove installation."

"I did?"

"You approved the expedited package." Right. Past Meno had been rich for one hour and apparently clicked every button that sounded like it solved a problem. He stepped aside.

"Come in. Don't judge the bowls. They're decoration." The technicians did not laugh. They worked like a speedrun team with no interest in entertainment value. The old rig came apart first. The man unplugged cables, coiled them, and moved the frame against the wall. The woman scanned the room with a little projector grid and marked a rectangle on the floor that consumed most of his living area.

"This orientation blocks your closet door," she said.

"I own three shirts."

"Lengthwise, then." The Soma-X7 arrived in pieces. The lower shell came first, then the spine cradle, curved side panels, padded restraint bands, sensor ribs, haptic lining, cable bundles, a cooling hose, an emergency release block, the processor tower, and a black top shell that looked too much like a coffin designed by someone with excellent taste. Meno watched twenty thousand credits become physical in his apartment. The man bolted the lower shell to the stabilizing base.

The woman mounted the sensor ribs and ran diagnostics from her tablet. A soft blue line woke along the inside of the capsule and traced where his body would go. The old cheap rig leaned against the wall like a dead animal.

"How long does this take?" Meno asked.

"Forty minutes if your power accepts the draw," the woman said.

"If my what accepts the what?" She looked at his wall outlet. Meno looked too, suddenly aware that his apartment had been built for lamps, noodles, and regret. The man opened another case.

"Auxiliary regulator. Included."

"I paid for that?"

"You approved the expedited package," the woman said again.

"Right. Rich for one hour." They replaced the outlet plate with something much more serious, anchored the regulator near the wall, and tested the load. The lights flickered once. Meno's heart stopped until they steadied.

"No issue," the man said.

"Your definition of issue is rich." The woman finally smiled, barely. The capsule came together piece by piece: matte black outside, dark padded interior, articulated sensor bands that adjusted when the woman tapped her tablet. It did not look like it belonged in his apartment. It looked like a luxury escape pod had crashed into a broke streamer's living room and started judging the carpet. While they worked, Meno sent his sister the new number, then paced enough for the man to glance at him.

"First capsule?" the man asked.

"Yes."

"Do not disable the medical warnings," the woman said without looking up.

"I wasn't going to."

"You look like someone who would."

"That's profiling."

"That is installer experience." They finished sealing the top shell. The capsule opened and closed once with a soft hydraulic sigh. The woman offered him the tablet.

"Initial calibration requires user confirmation. Basic safety profile is loaded. Tune resistance and haptic intensity later. Do not exceed recommended thresholds during the first week."

"Sure." She kept holding the tablet. Meno sighed.

"I will not exceed recommended thresholds during the first week."

"Better." The man handed him a compact case with maintenance cartridges and a cleaning kit.

"You will use these."

"Probably."

"You will use these."

"Yes, boss." They left with the empty crates and packaging. The old rig remained unplugged against the wall, suddenly too pathetic to keep and too embarrassing to throw away while someone else watched. Meno locked the door and stood alone for a moment with the Soma-X7 occupying most of his living room before checking the game status page. VEYRATH SERVICE STATUS: ONLINE Meno stopped breathing for half a second before climbing into the capsule.

The Soma-X7 closed around him with a soft seal instead of the cheap clamp of his old setup. Sensors mapped him in a warm sweep. Padding adjusted under his shoulders, spine, wrists, hips, knees. No pinched strap. No plastic bite. No immediate protest from his back. The interface loaded clean.

"I'm never telling her she was right." Veyrath opened. Meno appeared in the Ashen Crown Shrine with the dragon still there, of course, and two reward notifications waiting at the edge of his vision. He ignored both and opened the leaderboard.

[Launch Leaderboard | Global Level Rank] [Rank 1: BrineSaint — Level 34] [Rank 2: Kestrel_Crownfall — Level 33] [Rank 3: JaxxonVale — Level 32] [Rank 4: OxideChoir — Level 31] [Rank 5: Honeygrave — Level 31] [Rank 6: Thornwake_Stormhold — Level 30] [Rank 7: PikeNorth_Highbanner — Level 30] [Rank 8: Moonwake_Silverwake — Level 29] [Rank 9: VantaRush_HypeForge — Level 29] [Rank 10: GlassRook_Crownfall — Level 28] [...] [Rank 50: PrayerBeadGod — Level 27] Meno exhaled so hard the dragon's eye shifted toward him.

Rank 50, on the board. The game could not have been back up long, and maintenance had frozen everyone long enough that his insane burst still counted despite the installation delay. He turned on stream. The viewer count climbed fast, like people had been waiting with knives. Viewers: 8, 204. 15, 771. 26, 310. 34, 008.

"Okay," Meno said.

"Before anyone starts being weird—" Chat started being weird. HOW WAS WIFE WIFE MEETING DID YOU HOLD HANDS NEW CAPSULE???? how was wife tho PrayerBeadGod got rich SHOW REWARDS WIFE BUFF CONFIRMED Meno showed them the leaderboard.

"Rank fifty," he said, standing taller than he meant to inside the new capsule.

"Level twenty-seven. Still on the board." RANK 50 NICE BUT WIFE did she look like avatar grandchildren quest? wife money show pending rewards coward Meno jumped once in place. The Soma-X7 translated the movement cleanly, with no lag spike through his knees, no bad strap pull, no cheap haptic buzz pretending to be impact. His avatar hopped on the shrine stone like an idiot in front of a dragon.

"Rank fifty," he said again, louder. HOW WAS WIFE Meno's celebration curdled.

"I hate all of you." The dragon opened one eye.

"Loud pest," it said. Chat gained a new favorite line within half a second.