MMORPG: GODS GARDEN

Rex's return to the past was a brutal juxtaposition of what was and what would be. He was a ghost in his own life, a spectator to the nascent stages of a friendship that would ultimately shatter him. Seeing Cathy and Max, young and untainted by the ambition that would consume them, was like a knife twisting in the wound. It wasn't just the virtual betrayal that haunted him; it was the real-world camaraderie, the shared laughter, the late-night study sessions fueled by pizza and dreams of conquering GODS GARDEN together. These weren't just avatars; they were Cathy, the girl he loved, the woman he believed was his soulmate, and Max, his brother in all but blood, the friend he trusted with his life.

He watched them now, their faces full of the naive enthusiasm he once shared, and a wave of nausea washed over him. He knew what they would become, the cold, calculating manipulators who would orchestrate his downfall, but here, in this snapshot of the past, they were innocent. It was a cruel trick of time, a constant reminder of the depth of his loss. He saw Cathy's infectious smile, the way her eyes crinkled at the corners when she laughed, and it was like a phantom limb aching. He remembered the warmth of her hand in his, the shared secrets whispered in the quiet hours of the night. He saw Max's easygoing charm, the way he could diffuse any tension with a well-placed joke, and a pang of grief resonated through him. He remembered the countless hours they'd spent gaming together, the shared triumphs and the commiseration over defeats. These weren't just memories; they were tangible sensations, echoes of a bond that had been irrevocably broken.

The knowledge of their future betrayal cast a long shadow over these otherwise innocent moments. He saw their laughter, their camaraderie, and it felt like a mockery, a cruel foreshadowing of the pain they would inflict. Every shared glance, every inside joke, was tainted by the knowledge of what was to come. He was trapped in a time loop of his own making, forced to relive the genesis of his heartbreak. It was a form of torture more exquisite than any he could have imagined. He yearned to reach out, to warn his past self, to change the course of events, but he was powerless, a ghost observing a play he could no longer influence.

The emotional turmoil was immense. He felt a profound sense of loss, not just for his life, but for the innocence he had lost, for the trust that had been so brutally shattered. He felt a burning anger, a desire for vengeance, but it was a cold, simmering anger, tempered by the knowledge of what lay ahead. He also felt a deep, gnawing sadness, a grief for the friendship he had cherished, for the love he had believed was unbreakable. He remembered the dreams they had shared, the future they had planned together, and it was like a dagger twisting in his heart.

He was Rex, and yet, he wasn't. He was a ghost in his own past, a witness to his own downfall. He was a man haunted by the ghosts of his past and the chilling premonition of his future. He was trapped between two worlds, the world of what was and the world of what would be, and the chasm between them was filled with pain, regret, and the chilling knowledge of betrayal. He saw them, Cathy and Max, his closest friends, and the weight of their future actions pressed down on him, a crushing burden he was forced to bear. He felt a profound sense of loneliness, a feeling of being utterly isolated, even amidst the echoes of his past life. He was surrounded by the ghosts of his past, by the memories of a friendship that had turned to ash, and the knowledge of a betrayal Rex's return to the past wasn't just a disorienting experience; it was a minefield of emotional triggers, each encounter a reminder of what he had lost and what was yet to come. Then, his phone buzzed. A name flashed across the screen: Jin.

Jin was Rex's oldest friend, a connection that predated GODS GARDEN, a bond forged in shared childhood adventures and late-night LAN parties. He was a constant in Rex's life, a source of unwavering support and genuine camaraderie. But Cathy and Max…they didn't like Jin. They saw him as a threat, an outsider who didn't fit into their carefully constructed dynamic. They subtly undermined his presence, making snide remarks about his interests, his sense of humor, his very existence. Rex, wanting to keep the peace, wanting to avoid conflict, had slowly distanced himself from Jin, a decision he now bitterly regretted.

Seeing Jin's name on the screen was like a punch to the gut. It was a reminder of his own weakness, his failure to stand up for his friend, his willingness to sacrifice a genuine connection for the sake of a fragile peace. He remembered the last time they had spoken, a brief, awkward exchange where Jin had sensed the distance, the unspoken tension. He remembered the hurt in Jin's voice, the unspoken question hanging in the air.

He hesitated, his finger hovering over the answer button. Part of him longed to reconnect, to explain, to apologize. But another part of him, the part that remembered the pain of betrayal, the part that knew what Cathy and Max were capable of, held him back. He was trapped in a paradox: he knew the future, he knew the danger, but he was also bound by the choices he had made in the past. He couldn't risk altering the timeline, not yet. He needed to understand why he was here, what purpose his return served.

He let the call go to voicemail. It was a small act of cowardice, a continuation of the choices that had led to his downfall. But it was also a strategic decision. He couldn't afford to be distracted, not now. He needed to focus, to unravel the mystery of his return, to prepare for what lay ahead. He couldn't afford to expose Jin to the danger that surrounded him, not until he knew what he was facing.

He listened to the voicemail later, alone in his apartment, the silence amplifying the regret that gnawed at him. Jin's voice was warm, concerned. He was planning a get-together, a reunion of their old gaming group. He mentioned Cathy and Max, a hint of awkwardness in his tone. He ended the message with a simple, heartfelt "I miss you, man."

Rex closed his eyes, a wave of guilt washing over him. He missed Jin too. He missed the easy banter, the shared laughter, the sense of belonging. He missed the friend he had abandoned, the friend he had allowed Cathy and Max to alienate. He knew he had to make amends, but the timing wasn't right. Not yet. He needed to be strong, he needed to be ready, before he could reach out to the friend he had left behind. He needed to break the cycle of cowardice, to become the man Jin believed him to be.

that would forever alter the course of his existence.

Jin was a gamer, yes, but not in the same way as Rex, Cathy, and Max. He wasn't driven by ambition or the pursuit of virtual glory. He played for the joy of it, for the camaraderie, for the escape. He was good, naturally gifted, with a knack for ranged combat, but he lacked the cutthroat competitiveness that defined Rex's inner circle. This difference, subtle at first, became a point of contention, a wedge driven between Jin and the others.

The party invitation was a thinly veiled attempt at inclusion, a performative gesture that masked a deeper disdain. Jin, oblivious to the undercurrents, was genuinely excited. He saw it as a chance to reconnect, to bridge the growing distance between him and Rex. He didn't realize it was a setup, a stage for their cruel little play.

The humiliation was subtle, insidious. It wasn't outright insults or blatant mockery. It was the subtle digs at his gaming style, the condescending explanations of game mechanics he already understood, the way they talked over him, dismissing his opinions and ideas. Cathy, with her sharp wit, delivered the most cutting remarks, disguised as friendly banter. Max, ever the follower, chimed in with his own brand of subtle mockery, reinforcing Cathy's jabs. Rex, caught in the middle, did nothing. He winced internally at their cruelty, feeling a pang of guilt, but he remained silent, unwilling to challenge Cathy and Max, unwilling to risk the fragile balance of their friendship.

Jin, sensing the shift in the atmosphere, felt a coldness creeping over him. He saw the condescending smiles, the barely concealed contempt in their eyes. He realized he was the target of their amusement, the outsider they tolerated but never truly accepted. The hurt was palpable, a sting that resonated deep within him. But Jin, unlike Rex, didn't confront them. He didn't argue or plead for acceptance. He simply smiled, a polite, almost sad smile, and excused himself. He said he had an early start the next day, a flimsy excuse that everyone knew was a lie. But it was his way of preserving his dignity, of refusing to give them the satisfaction of seeing him hurt.

That was the last time Rex saw Jin in the real world. The memory of Jin's polite smile, the quiet dignity in his retreat, haunted Rex. He knew he had failed his friend, that he had chosen the easy path, the path of conformity, rather than standing up for what was right. He had prioritized the approval of Cathy and Max over the genuine connection he shared with Jin, a decision that now filled him with regret.

In GODS GARDEN, Jin, fueled by a quiet determination, channeled his hurt and frustration into his gameplay. He honed his skills, mastering the art of archery with an almost preternatural precision. He became a legend in his own right, known throughout the realm as the server's best archer. He never forgot the humiliation, but he didn't let it define him. He used it as motivation, a driving force to prove his worth, not to them, but to himself.

Rex, in his disembodied state, watched Jin's rise to prominence with a mixture of admiration and shame. He saw the respect Jin commanded, the way other players looked up to him, and he felt a pang of guilt. He knew that he had played a part in Jin's departure, that his silence had contributed to the hurt that fueled Jin's transformation. He saw the archer's skill, the almost mystical connection he had with his bow, and he wondered if Jin would have reached such heights if he hadn't been pushed away. He wondered if his own cowardice had inadvertently forged a legend. It was a bitter pill to swallow, a constant reminder of his failure, his inability to stand up for what was right, even when it mattered most. He saw Jin, the best archer in GODS GARDEN, and he knew that he had lost not just a friend, but also a chance to be a better person.

He saw Jin now, younger, more carefree, blissfully unaware of the subtle barbs and veiled contempt that would soon be directed his way. Rex felt a pang of guilt, a sharp reminder of his past inaction. He remembered the awkwardness of their last conversation, the unspoken questions hanging in the air, the hurt he had seen in Jin's eyes. He had allowed Cathy and Max's negativity to poison his friendship with Jin, a decision he now bitterly regretted.

This time, things would be different. He wouldn't stand idly by while Jin was humiliated. He wouldn't prioritize social comfort over loyalty and friendship. He didn't yet know how he could intervene, how a ghost could influence the physical world, but he was determined to find a way. He owed Jin that much.

He replayed the scene in his mind, the subtle digs, the condescending smiles, the way Cathy and Max had subtly undermined Jin's confidence. He cringed at his own complicity, his silence echoing in his spectral ears. He knew their tactics, he knew their weaknesses, and this time, he would be ready.

He thought about reaching out to Jin, warning him, explaining what was to come. But he hesitated. He didn't want to disrupt the timeline unnecessarily. He didn't want to risk altering events in ways he couldn't predict. He needed to be careful, to observe, to understand the dynamics at play before making his move. He was a ghost, after all, a disembodied consciousness, and his influence on the physical world was limited, perhaps even non-existent.

But his resolve was firm. He would not abandon Jin again. He would not allow Cathy and Max to drive a wedge between them. He would find a way to make amends, to repair the damage he had done. He didn't know how, but he was determined to try. He owed it to Jin, he owed it to himself, and he owed it to the memory of the friendship he had so carelessly jeopardized. This time, he would be a true friend, a loyal ally, a defender against the subtle cruelty that threatened to extinguish Jin's light. He would not repeat his past mistakes. He would not fail Jin again.

Author note :hello guys i hope you like the story i am dark eye it is my pen name if you like this wanna by me a coffe can contact me through email [email protected] and my line id darkeye2326 you can get advance chapters if you contact me thank you.can accept any ideas from you guys.

2316 words i hope you like it