Guilds weren't supposed to exist on Day One.
Not officially, anyway.
According to the ChronoRealms system, guild registration unlocked after three days—once a player hit Level 10 and completed a "Proof of Leadership" quest that required them to gather six others and survive a trial dungeon together.
That was in the system.
But I wasn't waiting three days.
While other players were still figuring out how to swap equipment or use the chat filter, I was laying the groundwork for something bigger. Quietly. Carefully. One move at a time.
Aiko was the start.
The spark.
But even the brightest fire needs fuel to grow.
So I headed to the only place I knew I'd find the next one: Frostmire Pond.
It was a weird location—cold, isolated, tucked into a craggy stretch of forest where most players got lost before finding anything useful. The mobs were slippery, the loot was trash, and the map didn't even label it until version 1.1.
But I remembered something most people didn't.
There was a boy there.
Brutus.
Tank class. Average reaction speed. Sub-par reflexes. Nobody expected much from him in the original timeline. Hell, he was considered dead weight in his first few guilds.
But give him time, patience, and the right kind of motivation? He became a juggernaut. One of the only tanks who could solo an entire boss phase while calling out team positioning in real-time.
In the old world, he rose late—long after the meta had shifted. In this one?
He'd rise now.
If I could find him.
Frostmire was even colder than I remembered. The terrain crunched underfoot with icy twigs and frosted roots. Wind howled through the trees like a low whistle in surround sound. I saw maybe one other player the entire hike, and he was running away from a squirrel the size of a Labrador.
Eventually, I found the pond—half-frozen, pale blue mist curling off the surface like ghost breath.
And there, standing ankle-deep in the icy water, was a kid in iron armor far too big for him, holding a wooden shield in both hands like it might explode if he dropped it.
He wasn't fighting anything.
Just… standing.
I approached slowly.
"Yo," I called. "You good?"
The boy turned.
He was a head shorter than me, round-faced, with sandy brown hair that stuck out from his helmet like a mop with confidence issues. His expression was nervous, but not panicked.
"Uh," he said. "Yeah. Just… waiting."
"For what?"
He scratched his cheek. "For something to spawn, I guess. The guide said this was a good place to train defense."
I blinked. "You're training against nothing?"
"I'm preparing for it."
Okay. Yeah. This was definitely Brutus.
"Name's Echo," I said, offering a hand. "Mystic class. Just passing through."
He shook it. "Brutus. Tank."
"Any particular reason you picked tank?"
He shrugged. "Everyone else picks damage. Someone's gotta take the hits."
I liked this kid already.
"Tell you what," I said. "There's a combat trial nearby—an abandoned hunter's lodge with corrupted beasts. Designed for level 5 to 7 parties, but it's solo accessible with the right setup."
He squinted. "I'm level 4."
"I can carry. You bring the shield. Want in?"
He looked down at the water. Then back at me.
"…Okay."
I smiled.
We trekked north for fifteen minutes until the lodge appeared on the horizon—a shadowy wood cabin half-swallowed by vines and snow, glowing faintly with red mist. Brutus stayed quiet most of the way, only asking a few questions about gear stats and stamina regen.
The moment we stepped through the threshold, we were ambushed.
A corrupted wolf burst from the darkness, jaws wide, lunging for me.
Brutus moved without hesitation.
He threw himself between us, shield up, and took the hit.
His HP dropped to 60% in one go, but he held firm.
"Nice," I said, casting a triple-chain bolt that sent the wolf staggering backward.
Another beast leapt in.
Brutus blocked again.
He wasn't flashy. His movement wasn't slick. But he absorbed damage like a wall. A shaky, unpolished wall with too much armor and not enough fear.
Together, we cleared the lodge.
He got hit—multiple times. Almost went down during the final wave when two shadow bears ganged up on him. But he never bailed. Never flinched.
And when it was over, he sat down on a log and let out the quietest, happiest little "Hah!" I'd ever heard.
Level up.
Level up.
Loot Obtained:
🛡️ Defender's Plate (Defense +10, Taunt Skill +1)
🪙 180 Gold
📜 Skill Scroll: Shield Bash
Brutus clutched the scroll like it was made of platinum.
"You earned that," I said. "Especially the part where you played meat shield for two bears."
He grinned. "You weren't bad either."
I tilted my head. "You ever consider joining a guild?"
He hesitated. "I mean… yeah. But I'm not really good enough yet. And all the big ones are super intense."
"I'm starting one," I said. "It's small. No pressure. Just good players. Quiet grinders. People who care more about the game than the numbers."
He looked at me like I'd handed him the keys to the candy store.
"…Really?"
I nodded. "I'm building something special, Brutus. You won't be a background tank. You'll be a wall others can rely on."
He stood, clunky but determined, and offered his hand again.
"Okay. I'm in."
We shook on it.
And just like that, my guild of one became a guild of three.
The world didn't know it yet.
But the top-tier team of the future had just quietly started inside a frozen forest, one failed stealth rogue and one nervous tank at a time.
And me?
I wasn't even getting started.