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"Enough! We are doing what I say now!" Asef roared, his voice echoing through the chamber.

The news of Arn and Syme's crushing defeat had reached him, and his fury boiled over.

The Keldars had launched their assault on Trion three years ago, striking with ferocity. Yet, after their initial attack, they refrained from pressing deeper into the cities.

It wasn't hesitation—it was strategy. They understood that, in a direct confrontation, they lacked the strength to overcome the Trionians.

A reckless advance would only lead to ruin.

Instead, they chose to force a stalemate.

They established a firm border, a no-man's-land that would come to be known as the frontlines, or more commonly, the starting towns.

This strategy had been proposed by Carla, the Trionian among them.

Carla had earned her place among Asef's trusted advisors through sharp insight and unwavering pragmatism.

Time and again, her strategies had proven invaluable. She wasn't a double agent, pretending to betray her people while secretly aiding them.

No, she was a true traitor, one who had committed herself fully to the Keldar cause. And Asef had trusted her judgment—until now.

Lately, her decisions had led to repeated failures. The crushing defeat of the second strongest Demon, along with several other key figures, had been the final straw.

The loss of the Named Monsters, their elite and most fearsome allies, was a devastating blow.

And as if that weren't enough, the Mimes in Kelta—their carefully hidden operatives—had been exposed, their hideouts destroyed in one fell swoop.

Asef had had enough.

It was time to abandon Carla's cautious approach.

Time to stop waiting, stop hesitating. No matter the cost, he would take control and lead the Keldars his way.

If that meant losing allies, so be it. The weak had no place in his vision of victory.

Carla, standing before him, remained composed despite the shift in his tone. She had anticipated this moment.

Though she had failed, she was no fool. She understood that Asef would cast aside diplomacy when patience ran dry.

"My lord," she said, her voice steady, "if this is your decision, I have no power to prevent it. But at the very least, test the waters first. You know there is a team—one that Zephyrion himself prepared."

Asef narrowed his eyes. The mere mention of Zephyrion was enough to make him pause.

Carla lowered her head slightly, awaiting his response. She had played her final card. Whatever happened next was beyond her control.

---

After taking a moment to appreciate the scenery, Arlon made his way to Edrich for a casual chat.

He had no particular reason to seek him out, but old habits died hard.

He still checked the store, scanning through the wares just in case something caught his eye.

Unfortunately, at this point, there was little that Trionian craftsmen could offer him.

It wasn't that he was stronger than the NPCs—far from it.

However, there simply wasn't a single piece of equipment a Trionian could produce that outmatched what he already had.

His gear was in a league of its own.

Still, a short conversation with Edrich was always worthwhile.

Arlon listened to the merchant's ramblings, picking up tidbits about local rumors and minor happenings.

Once he was satisfied that nothing truly interesting was going on, he thanked Edrich and returned to the others.

By the time he arrived, the feast was nearly ready.

Merlin was stationed at the grill, carefully tending to slabs of blue meat as they sizzled over the fire.

Evan and Zack stood nearby, their expressions shifting between eager anticipation and mild unease.

They had tried blue meat before, so they weren't against it—but the unnatural color still made them hesitate.

The group had chosen the best possible spot: a stretch of soft, golden sand right by the sea.

The ocean breeze mixed with the smoky aroma of roasting meat, making it feel more like a proper beach party than a gathering of battle-hardened players.

Once the food was done, everyone dug in.

And it was delicious.

Merlin had truly outdone himself.

Over time, through trial and error, he had perfected his seasoning techniques, blending spices in ways that brought out the best flavors in even the strangest of ingredients.

What the others didn't know was that Merlin wasn't just an in-game cooking prodigy—he was a chef in real life as well.
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Back on Earth, he had owned a small restaurant, but his talent had gone largely unrecognized.

His homeland was a small country, and he had never had the opportunity to prove himself on a grander stage. Yet, despite the lack of fame, he had never given up on his dream.

In Trion, however, things were different. Here, he had the chance to push his skills to the limit.

Given enough time, he could have become famous in both worlds like in the past timeline.

But Arlon's intervention had changed everything.

Not that it really mattered. The lives of Trionians were far more important than anyone's personal aspirations.

Merlin would find his way, one way or another.

As Arlon leaned back, watching the others laugh and play along the shoreline, the moment felt almost peaceful.

Then—

"Rouis is under attack!! All the players should move toward the city and protect it!"

The system notification rang in every player's mind, breaking the tranquility like a shattered glass.

Rouis was one of the starting towns.

Arlon's eyes narrowed as he sifted through his memories. This... this wasn't supposed to happen.

This never happened in my past life.

But then again, things had been changing ever since his regression. His very presence had altered the course of events.

Of course, the timeline shifted after I interfered…

He exhaled slowly, considering his options. Rouis was a day's journey away by military carriage.

If they left immediately, they could still make it in time. But his original plan had been to head in the opposite direction.

Would it be worth the detour?

A brief silence settled over the group as everyone turned to look at him. They had approached as soon as they received the notification, waiting for his decision.

Finally, Arlon spoke.

"One group should leave for Rouis."

Pierre frowned. "Only one? Why don't we all go?"

Arlon shook his head. "We don't need to go all out. One group is more than enough. Melner is in Rouis."

"Who's Melner?" Zack asked.

"A strong Trionian," Arlon answered. "He can hold out until you get there. Besides, there are probably a lot of players in the area already."

That settled it. The four members of The Gamers volunteered to handle the situation, since June was currently with Arlon.

Without wasting time, they gathered their gear, mounted the military carriage, and set off toward Rouis at full speed.

The mood had changed.

The others, of course, no longer felt like continuing their fun.

The abruptness of the situation left little room for hesitation. The gathering came to an unceremonious end as the remaining members prepared to go their separate ways.

After a few brief farewells, the group dispersed, each heading toward their own next destination.

And with that, the beach was left behind.