"WORLD ANNOUNCEMENT: The US Region's world anchor has collapsed. Shared data has been destroyed. The game will shut down in 10 hours."
"WORLD ANNOUNCEMENT: Effective immediately, all regions will disable trading, experience gain, and skill point acquisition… main, side, and hidden quest progress is paused!"
"WORLD ANNOUNCEMENT: Wishing all players valor and fortune. May the radiance of the gods of the galaxy ever be with you!"
A bizarre system notice popped up across every interface. Billions of players around the world stared blankly. The revolutionary online game that had swept the globe for half a year…
"WHAT THE HELL!!! I just sold my house to buy gold coins and you're telling me the game is shutting down? \\$%#@!"
"Bro, seriously? I always said trusting AI was dumb. Open source coding is the real future of gaming!"
"Ha! Good riddance! Hope that Orgod clown and his gang keep swaggering now."
"Exactly—no more trading means they can't cash out! Still broke losers in real life!"
"Wait… gods of the galaxy? Hold on… quest progress is 'paused'—does that mean it might come back?"
Players had never seen a game so shameless. Shut down with zero warning, no compensation, nothing.
Could Infinite Dimensions restart? Nobody knew. It was all wild speculation.
Meanwhile, Infinite Dimensions merchants and gold-farming studios were in a panic. With all real-world assets tied up in virtual gold they now couldn't convert, they faced total ruin.
Company execs literally lined up for rooftop farewells.
And those major conglomerates who'd just sniffed out opportunity in Infinite Dimensions were terrified too.
If the game closed for good, they'd be bankrupt overnight, back to square one.
Only guilds like Godslayer seemed relatively unfazed.
Sure, they'd invested plenty into Infinite Dimensions, but these months had brought them unstoppable winds and rains—unmatched glory. Even if it all went to waste, the experience alone was priceless.
Who else had ever stood so tall, lording over Infinite Dimensions?
The Godslayer coalition had no equal.
Forever City, the Lord's Mansion.
The mood was strange, but this was still a triumphant return, their fame spreading across the world.
That meant plenty of people still drank, still feasted, still sang and danced.
Of course, not everyone felt the same. Quiet complaints and grumbling circulated. But seeing titans like Drunken Dream and Shattered Crown so calm kept everyone from pushing things.
And really, who could they blame? The developers? This was a question with no answer, a problem that couldn't be solved.
"Hey, Orson's calling. I'm gonna step outside to take it."
Bradley got up. The other big names all stared at him, making Bradley squirm. "What are you all lookin' at me for?"
They blinked, then traded wry smiles.
In such a baffling situation, who else could possibly have "insider info"? They could only pin hopes on Orson.
The top player of Infinite Dimensions, the man who stood above the leaderboards.
Probably only he knew anything.
"What? Orson, you messing with me? Telling me to go home and pack up?"
Bradley froze, scalp prickling. He stammered, "You—you—better explain. My house happens to be on a monster spawn? You gotta be kidding!"
Everyone's faces twisted into incredulous looks.
When the hell did Money Traveler move his house inside Infinite Dimensions?
Was there even real estate in this game? No one had heard of developers adding that yet.
Even still confused, they saw Bradley so serious and bewildered, so they all stood up and followed him, trying to hear more.
After a long while, Bradley stood there, face stiff, nodding over and over. "Oh. Oh. Got it."
Madman smacked him on the arm and swore, "The hell are you mumbling? 'Blue Star expanding in size'—how can you even repeat such nonsense?"
"Could it be… that thing's really coming?"
Demon Emperor's face darkened with fear. During his time with The Bruce Family, he'd overheard doomsday rumors that always made him think they were lunatics.
Bradley ignored Madman's sarcasm. Instead, he looked solemnly at them all, took a deep breath, and said, "Everyone log out. Something huge is about to happen. Orson sent me some nearby safe zone coordinates. I'll forward them. Get all our coalition brothers moving now."
"Safe zone? You're sounding just like Orson, speaking in riddles." Slaughter Spree couldn't help but curse.
But Bradley just stayed serious, clapping him on the shoulder. "Brother, protect your family and friends. That's what matters most."
The words were barely out.
Almost simultaneously, each of their real-world comms lit up. The caller ID—National Wartime Management Center.
BG City, Saint Mary's Hospital.
In an intensive care ward, over a dozen top internal specialists were at a loss, doing all they could just to keep Sienna's vitals stable.
"Come on, Sienna. You're the best. Don't give up."
Orson's eyes shone with a tender light as he held her hand, wishing he could pour every bit of his strength into her.
He'd already done everything he could.
This person before him was his entire world.
If the world was destroyed, he'd have nothing left to live for.
For a moment, Orson even felt like praying to the gods—but he knew that would mean bowing to devils. It was pointless.
Just then, a hand landed on his shoulder, warmth flooding through him.
"It's time, isn't it?"
Bloodshot eyes, he turned.
Emma stood there tall and graceful, her beautiful eyes rippling. Neither of them said a word—there was no need.
After a long moment, Emma spoke, almost naturally slipping her arm through his. Her voice was soft. "You're a mess right now. Come home."
Orson was thrown. The word felt strangely foreign.
Seeing Emma so determined, he glanced once more at Sienna, still hooked to the game rig, then nodded dumbly.
They got into a blue Beetle. Emma drove. The whole trip passed in silence.
Orson thought she'd take him back to the villa. Instead, she drove straight to that run-down old apartment.
Downstairs, Orson stared in surprise as Emma pulled out a key card. She even used facial scan to get them past the front gate.
"That apartment… after so long, the landlord must've rented it to someone else by now."
Orson hesitated. "Right?"
"I bought it. Fixed it up. I know how much this place matters to you," Emma said gently.
"Uh… not like it matters that much."
Orson was embarrassed. In that shabby apartment, outside of times with Sienna, he'd mostly lived like a rat, sneered at by everyone.
He was mature enough not to care much, but constant contempt from others never exactly felt good.
"It matters to me, okay?" Emma frowned, shooting him a look.
Orson blinked, finally studying her properly.
And found… this normally serious girl looked especially dazzling today.
He belatedly noticed Emma wore a soft, playful pink dress—subtle yet sweet.
The fabric was light and gentle, swaying with every step she took up the stairs, hinting at her graceful curves.
She was even wearing makeup.
Do assassins wear makeup? Was she planning to seduce someone for a hit? That didn't make sense.
None of this made sense!
"You look… a bit prettier today." Orson paused for ages before blurting it out deadpan.
Emma's cheeks turned pink. She thought it was a heartfelt compliment—but then saw his expression. He looked like he was analyzing an Infinite Dimensions boss's mechanics.
"A bit?" Emma narrowed her eyes, more interrogator than girlfriend.
"A lot prettier!" Orson quickly stressed, grinning awkwardly.
Emma snorted, then scanned them into the apartment.
Orson looked around at the furnishings and nodded. "Nice. Nothing that should've been thrown out got tossed, nothing that should've stayed got left behind. Only you, Blank, could've managed that."
Emma's long legs halted mid-step, almost pulling back.
She clenched her teeth, thinking, "This idiot… how does he always piss me off!"
"Strip. Go shower. And stop staring at me like a clueless moron."
Emma tried to act cold, practiced, completely in control—she always needed to seize the initiative.
But inside, her heart was a chaotic mess, a little bear pounding a drum so hard her cheeks were burning.
"What are you planning to do to me…?"
Orson stood there dumb as ever. His brain—capable of handling data floods from hundreds of millions of players—had gone totally blank.
Emma's shoulders trembled. She fought the urge to kick him out on the spot.
Deep breaths. More deep breaths.
She clicked across the room in her heels, stopping by the little bed where they'd first had their ambiguous encounter. Looking away, she said, "I told Naoko and the others… I'm pregnant."
"What kind of monster are you? Lying about something like that? That's insane!"
Orson gawked, cheeks strangely hot. He was genuinely flustered.
Emma sat on the bed, turned slightly. Her stunning profile stayed cool. "For The Bruce Family's reputation, I need to turn this lie into truth. Can you cooperate? If not—leave now."