Akhil quietly flew above the group of orcs being led by Gon, his eyes narrowed as he watched their progress through the dense undergrowth.

He was genuinely surprised. The group had been handling the beasts they encountered with a surprising level of efficiency. It was a stark reminder that orcs were naturally physically superior to humans. While the initial mutation had left many of them in a weakened, chaotic state, the serum Akhil had provided seemed to have stabilized their biology.

They were finally beginning to tap into their true racial potential, their strikes carrying a weight that no average human player could replicate.

Even more surprising was Gon's tactical acumen. The old orc was directing the group with a series of sharp, guttural commands, creating a coordinated attack pattern that utilized each orc's specific strength.

'He's smarter than he looks,' Akhil thought, though he couldn't help but notice the catch. 'It's just a shame he's still a selfish old bastard. That formation is designed entirely as a cage—they are the walls, and he's the protected core. He hasn't swung that staff once.'

Despite their success, Akhil knew their luck was about to run dry. They were making good time, but according to his memory of the game and the flickering map in his vision, they had yet to reach the true "filter."

'The traps should be appearing right about... here,' Akhil noted, his gaze fixed on a transition point where the trees became gnarled and blackened.

As if on cue, the thin, drifting mist that had been clinging to the forest floor suddenly surged. It thickened instantly, churning with an unnatural, predatory intent. The fog rushed toward the group like a living tide, swallowing the trees, the orcs, and even Akhil as he hovered above. It felt heavy against his skin, smelling of ozone and old, stagnant magic.

Akhil frowned as the world turned into a featureless wall of white. Then, his system interface flashed with a violent red light.

{Notice: New participants have joined the scenario!}

{Current Participants: 58}

'Fifty-eight?' Akhil's eyebrows shot up. A massive influx of players had hit the Dark Mountains simultaneously—likely the high-level mercenaries Marcus Thorne had mobilized and the hidden Bureau agents Langdon had warned him about.

The fog began to swirl in front of him, coalescing into solid shapes. Slowly, three figures stepped out of the mist. They were perfect, uncanny mirrors of himself—the same armor, the same cold eyes, the same posture.

The Fog of Mirrors. It didn't just hide the path; it forced you to fight the person you understood best: yourself. Akhil drew his weapon, his expression shifting into a mask of pure lethality. He knew the trick—these weren't just illusions; they possessed his stats and his skills.

On another side of the same forest, Lyla found herself engulfed in the same oppressive white curtain. Fang growled low in his throat, his hackles raised as the mist tried to take shape around them.

Unlike the others, Lyla didn't look panicked. A knowing, almost tragic smile cut across her face. She closed her eyes, refusing to look at the silhouettes forming in the fog. She knew the secret to the Mirror Fog. 'I guess it's not so different from the game afterall'

However, her smile faded when she checked the timer remaining in the corner of her vision. Every second spent playing games with the fog was a second lost to the chaos unfolding in the city.

'I'm the only one who saw it,' she thought, her grip tightening on her dagger. 'I'm the only one who knows who the real culprit is. If I don't get that Emblem and claim district authority, I won't have the power to reveal the truth before the war starts....' she bit her lowerlip as the thought came into her mind, but slowly, the annoyed look melted into a saddened one.

'I just hope there's a way to help Tenkin.... There has to be. Fuck this game!' she

"Fang, stay close," she commanded, her voice a sharp blade in the silence. "We're breaking through. We have to end this before the city burns."

Deep within the shadowed outskirts of the forest, the air grew heavy as a new faction made its entrance.

Marcus stepped onto the mountain path, his brown leather suit pristine despite the chaotic environment. He moved with a practiced, predatory grace, a confident smile etched onto his face as he checked his system interface.

{Skill: Puppeteer (Active)}

Marcus's gaze lingered on the description. His ability allowed him to weave invisible threads of influence, turning even the most headstrong individuals into loyal, unquestioning servants. While he still maintained a shred of nostalgia for the world before the fall, he couldn't deny the intoxicating power the mutation had granted him.

'I won't lie,' Marcus thought, his smug grin widening. 'this apocalypse has its perks.'

The skill was not without its drawbacks, however. The system, as if in a petty act of balance, denied him the standard rewards and experience points for the actions of his "puppets."

MUT coins were a rarity, granted only on special occasions. Furthermore, the ability had strict limitations; it struggled against those with high mental fortitude, and there were certain individuals his threads simply could not latch onto. He had yet to fully map out the boundaries of his power.

'But who needs the scraps from a crappy system when I have these?' he mused, casting a dark look behind him.

Standing in a rigid, perfect formation were the thirty mercenaries and adventurers he had gathered. They were no longer the rowdy, independent contractors he had hired; they were extensions of his will.

Among them were fifteen Level 1 mutants, ten Level 2s, and five Level 3 elites who stood closest to him like a living shield.

"Listen well," Marcus addressed them, his voice calm but carrying an undeniable weight. "The Emblem is the only priority. Once it is in your hands, you will bring it directly to me. Anyone who stands in your way is to be removed."

The servants gave no verbal reply, their eyes dull but their bodies tensed for action.

With a flick of his wrist, Marcus led his small army deeper into the mountain passes. They hadn't traveled far before the sounds of the forest changed—the snapping of twigs and high-pitched, guttural snarls announced the arrival of the local inhabitants.

A squad of Goblins, their skin a sickly olive and eyes gleaming with primitive malice, scrambled out from the rocks, brandishing jagged blades and crude bows. They screeched at the intruders, ready to defend their territory.

Marcus didn't even break his stride. He simply adjusted his cufflinks and looked at his Level 3 guards.

"Clear the path," he commanded. "We have a crown to claim."

Meanwhile, back at the human settlement. Seth and Langdon came into view, however... Things weren't as one would've expected.

Seth was a mess. His clothes were shredded, and blood trickled from a deep gash on his forehead, matting his hair. He hung limp, suspended a few inches off the ground by the mechanical throat-grip of the cyborg puppet.

The machine didn't just overpower him; it had systematically dismantled every martial technique he tried to employ.

Langdon walked toward him, his footsteps clicking rhythmically on the debris. He stopped just inches away, wearing a dark, satisfied smile that looked entirely alien on his usually studious face.

'Shit... this guy's already too strong... How did it get to this? How many of them are they?' Seth asked himself in a haze of despair. He tried to recall the exchange, but his mind struggled to keep up.

'It didn't even take a second.' Every time his Fore-perception warned him of a strike, the bot adjusted mid-motion, as if it already knew he was going to dodge. It was fighting with his own logic, but with a processor that was ten times faster.

And they wasn't just one Mask! They were multiple look likes!

'We should've known that it had to be someone who had a wide control range!' Seth gritted his teeth, feeling foolish that they had no clues.

"I think I like you quiet," Langdon said, his voice smooth and mocking. He reached out, patting Seth's bruised cheek with a condescending rhythm.

Seth's breathing was ragged, but despite the pain, his defiant spirit flickered back to life. His face shifted from a grimace of agony to a bloody, mocking smile.

"You know you can't kill me," Seth rasped, coughing up a bit of crimson. "If you do... the moment Akhil comes back, he'll be able to figure out it's you. He's not an idiot like you think. He'll trace the energy signatures, the 'nerd' tracks you left behind. You're dead the second he steps back into this district."

Langdon paused, then let out a low, chilling chuckle that vibrated in the small room.

"Oh, who said I was going to kill you?" Langdon asked, his eyes glinting with a terrifying clarity. "Killing you would be a waste of such high-level combat data. Besides, Akhil won't be looking for a murderer if he's too busy fighting a friend."

Langdon reached into his inner pocket and pulled out a jagged, pulsing Beast Core Crystal. Unlike the others they had seen, this one was wrapped in silver wiring and hummed with a discordant, glitchy energy.

"I've got much bigger plans," Langdon whispered, bringing the crystal closer to Seth

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.