The morning air was cooler than expected crisp with a breeze that tugged at the corners of Dillion’s hoodie. His sneakers pounded rhythmically against the concrete, not gracefully—but with intent. He wasn’t a runner. Not really. But today? Today felt different.
Jogging through his quiet neighborhood, past the same hedges and mailboxes he’d walked by his whole life, Dillion found himself… breathing. Not just for air, but for something more. He was sore—his body still adjusting to life after Sora—but somehow, it felt good. Like proof that what he was doing mattered.
“Still can’t believe I’m doing this,” he muttered to himself between shallow breaths.
But in his mind, he wasn’t here.
He was dodging lightning arrows in the Arena.
He was shielding Mika from a hammer the size of a car.
He was blocking a Minotaur’s final swing while Valen’s blade split the world.
Jogging? Compared to that, this was nothing.
But also—everything.
Because this was his world. Earth. Where people walked dogs, watered lawns, and checked their phones. It grounded him. And after everything that had happened in Sora, he needed that grounding more than he realized.
As he slowed to a walk near the end of the block, he bent forward, hands on his knees.
“Okay,” he said aloud between breaths. “Maybe next time, stretch first.”
Dillion’s jog didn’t end at the corner.
Or the next block.
It surprised him more than anyone — he wasn’t the type to jog, especially not without someone chasing him. But something had changed. Not just in Sora, but in him.
He wasn’t strong. Not really. Not here, on Earth.
But after a few days away from the game, one conversation kept echoing in his head — something Valen had said after their last sparring session.
“Your strength in Sora is built on your body in this world. Doesn’t matter how high you level if your real legs give out before your mind does.”
So he ran.
And by the time the massive glass structure of the Eden Center came into view, sweat had soaked through the back of his shirt, and his calves were on fire. But he was still moving. He didn’t stop.
The side entrance scanned his Eden bracelet, and a soft chime confirmed his access.
TEMPORARY MEMBER – VIP FLOOR ACCESS GRANTED
Guild Affiliation: Crit Happens
He took the elevator up — trying not to breathe too hard in case someone else stepped in. No one did.
The VIP Gym was bigger than he expected. Not magic or sci-fi like Sora — just real. Polished floors, mirrored walls, racks of free weights, treadmills, resistance machines. A few players were already there, quietly lifting or doing circuits. Serious faces. Disciplined bodies.
Dillion stood there for a second, a little out of place in his sweat-soaked hoodie and old running shoes.
He didn’t have Overwhelming Strength here.
Dillion wandered over to the free weights like they were a new species of monster. He eyed a modest barbell setup and slid a pair of 10-pound plates on either side. It didn’t look like much, but as he laid back on the bench and wrapped his fingers around the cold steel, his arms were already second-guessing his life choices.
He took a breath, braced, and pushed.
The bar wobbled slightly, rising… then dropping back down to his chest like it had a grudge.
“Need a spot?” came a voice.
Dillion turned his head and groaned.
Valen.
The team captain was standing a few feet away, arms crossed, in a sleeveless compression shirt that made his shoulders look like sculpted granite. His expression was unreadable — somewhere between amusement and approval.
“You— You just watching me struggle?” Dillion asked, cheeks red from more than just effort.
Valen walked over and casually lifted the bar off Dillion’s chest with one hand, sliding it back into place.
“I was going to let you win the fight first,” he said with a shrug. “But the bar was about to win by TKO.”
Dillion sat up, rubbing his arms. “Okay, I’m not exactly jacked. But I figured I should start working on it. You know… after everything.”
Valen nodded, more serious now. “Smart. Too many players think strength in Sora is digital. But your body is still your foundation. Reflexes, stamina, pain resistance — all of it.”
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He tossed Dillion a towel. “You’re doing the right thing. Just… maybe start with the dumbbells next time.”
Dillion huffed a laugh. “You saying I’m dumb?”
“No,” Valen said. “I’m saying you’ll live longer if you train smarter. And you’ve got a long way to go, Water Gun.”
Dillion smiled. The bar might’ve won today — but it was just the first round.
VIP Locker Room – Eden Center, Earth
The soft hum of ventilation echoed through the marble and chrome of the VIP locker room. Rows of pristine lockers lined the walls, and holographic screens displayed player stats, schedules, and local leaderboards. Dillion stood at a bench, toweling off after his shower, when Valen stepped out of the steam, already halfway into his Eden-issued compression suit.
Dillion reached for his own suit — sleek black with silver lining — and paused.
“You ever fight something you just… couldn’t read?” he asked.
Valen raised an eyebrow as he zipped up. “Plenty of times. You thinking about that lizard again?”
Dillion nodded. “The Aquaduct King. I thought I had him. I was using everything — Fog, Weak Point, movement control — but then he just started gliding across the water. One second he was in front of me, the next— BAM. Tail to the ribs. I didn’t even see it coming.”
Valen let out a thoughtful grunt as he sat on the bench across from him. “You’re learning something most players never figure out. Sora’s not about the biggest numbers. It’s about skill mastery.”
He pointed at Dillion’s chest. “That’s how you made it through the tournament. You didn’t have better stats. You had better execution. You picked your moments. Hit the weak points. That’s what made people underestimate you — and that’s what made you dangerous.”
Dillion looked down at his gloves, tightening the straps on the sleeves. “So… you’re saying I could take out a top-ranking player? Even someone like you?”
Valen smirked. “If the conditions were right? Yeah. You could. Doesn’t mean it’d be easy. But in Sora, even a so-called noob can drop a veteran if the strike is fatal enough.”
He stood and stretched, his compression gear flexing with each movement. “Now Named Beasts? That’s a different story. It’s not confirmed, but most high-rankers agree: damage against them is flat. If you stab one in the arm and it takes 15 damage, I could do the same strike, and it’d still be 15.”
Dillion blinked. “Wait, seriously?”
Valen nodded. “Yeah. They’re scaled for balance — so that even if you bring a lower-level support, their attacks still matter. That’s why skills and teamwork are everything in those fights. You time the right ability… coordinate the stun, the burst, the pull…”
He trailed off, then added, “You did that with the Minotauras. Fog repositions, shield guard, coordinated strike. That’s real synergy. That’s Crit Happens.”
Dillion looked up at him, a little stunned.
Valen grinned and patted his shoulder. “So don’t beat yourself up over a loss. That lizard didn’t win because he was stronger. He won because you didn’t respect his field. Next time, you glide across the water.”
As Valen walked off toward the login chamber, Dillion remained seated on the bench, adjusting his gloves slowly. He stared down at the floor, replaying every word Valen had just said.
“Even a noob like you could take out someone like me…”
“It’s not about the stats. It’s about how you use them.”
“Next time, you glide across the water.”
Dillion exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair.
“I guess… I have to get stronger.”
Day 1
Dillion’s feet pounded the pavement as he jogged through the early morning streets, his breath fogging in the cold air. At the Eden Center gym, he pushed himself through shaky reps with light dumbbells, his muscles trembling. Valen watched from a distance, arms crossed, giving no feedback — only a faint nod when Dillion refused to quit.
Day 3
In the ruins of a desert temple, Dillion and the Crit Happens squad executed a flawless sweep of a quest. Fog surged between crumbling columns as Dillion slipped behind enemies to land precise, stunning blows. Kael called out, “Good angle, Water Gun!” as Mika patched up a minor wound on his arm.
Day 6
In a clean, padded room at the Eden Center, Dillion wore a head guard and took his first self-defense lesson. He flinched at incoming jabs at first, awkward and stiff. But as the instructor adjusted his stance and repeated the basics, Dillion’s posture changed — stronger, more grounded.
Day 8
At the gates of the Aquaduct Caverns, Dillion stood alone, his shield strapped to his back. He inhaled deeply and entered.
Five minutes later, he was launched out of a tunnel like a skipping stone, bruised and gasping.
Day 10
He tried again.
And lost again.
Harder.
Day 13
Sweat poured down his face as he punched a heavy bag at the Eden gym, the coach barking corrections at his footwork. His knuckles ached — but he didn’t stop.
Day 15
Once more, he faced the Aquaduct King.
This time, he lasted longer — he even dodged the tail once.
But the result was the same.
Defeat.
Day 17
Dillion supported Valen during a high-speed chase quest, using Fog Control to block sightlines and guide enemies into a dead end. Gorran gave him a rare grunt of approval.
The days blurred together, but the pattern never changed: train, fight, learn, repeat.
Dillion wasn’t just trying to level up.
He was becoming someone worthy of a rematch.
The dull thud of fists hitting a heavy bag echoed through the near-empty VIP gym. Dillion’s knuckles were wrapped tight, sweat dripping down his back as he powered through the final set of his morning circuit. With one last clean hook, he let the bag swing, exhaling sharply as he stepped back.
He reached for his water bottle, chest rising and falling with steady, controlled breaths.
It had been a month since he started working out seriously — and it showed. His once-soft frame had filled out with lean muscle, and the boy who used to hide behind book stacks now stood taller, moved with more purpose. He could run longer, lift heavier, react quicker. He even felt different in the mirror — like the lines of his face had sharpened, like his soul had finally caught up to his body.
But inside?
He still felt like he was catching up.
Wiping his face with a towel, Dillion grabbed his phone off the bench and unlocked it.
[17 New Messages – May ??]
His eyes widened. He hadn’t ignored her — not intentionally — but between back-to-back missions, guild training, solo practice, and real-world workouts, he hadn’t texted her back in… he checked the time stamps.
Three days.
Four, if you count the “hey?” from last night.
He sat down, suddenly feeling guilty.
It had only been a month on Earth — but in Sora, he’d lived through more than half a year.
Time stretched weird between the two worlds. May, Ellie, Earth... they all felt like memories from a dream. A past life that only came into focus when he stopped moving.
But now, seeing May’s texts one after another, teasing him, checking in, asking if he was alive — it brought the real world crashing back in.
His thumbs hovered over the keyboard.
Dillion:
Hey. Sorry I vanished. Everything’s been… a lot. I miss you.
He stared at the message for a second longer before hitting send.
Then he stood, towel slung over his shoulder, and stared out the tall window overlooking the city.
“Yeah,” he muttered to himself.
“It’s been forever.”