The world was burning.
Ash drifted like snowflakes through the shattered sky of Elarion Keep, settling on the blood-slicked stones beneath Astra's knees. Her health bar blinked a haunting red — not quite empty, but close enough that the system had begun to count her out.
<< 4 HP remaining >>
Just a whisper of life. Barely enough for a breath.
She'd lost her sword ten minutes ago. Her skills were all on cooldown. Her wings — her radiant, painstakingly-evolved angelic wings — had been clipped and burned in the last desperate strike.
Across from her, high on the platform of the ruined sanctum, stood her.
Seraphyne — The Chosen Heroine.
Radiant. Alive. Victorious.
She had Astra's legacy shining behind her like a crown: Astra's kills, Astra's discoveries, Astra's sacrifices. She stood in white-gold armor, blessed by the final Temple Astra had bled to unlock. And she looked down at the woman who had been her tank, her strategist, her silent weapon…
…with pity.
"You did well, Astra," Seraphyne said softly. "But you were never the story."
Astra stared up through the blood in her eyes. She didn't feel anger, not immediately. Not betrayal. Just… a horrible emptiness. Like watching yourself die in third person.
She had given everything. For their guild. For the story. For her.
"This was always your plan," Astra said, voice hoarse. "Use me to unlock the endgame. Then kill me so your name gets it all."
Seraphyne didn't answer.
Instead, her final skill flared like the sun. A burst of holy light. The system chimed.
<< Fatal Skill Activated: Final Benediction >>
"Goodbye, Astra."
And then there was nothing.
♦︎
She expected the familiar black screen of death. The quiet music. The option to respawn at the last crystal or log out.
But instead, she opened her eyes to the sound of silence.
No system menu. No UI. No immersive VR feedback.
Just the soft hum of a broken fan in a cheap, dimly-lit room.
A room she hadn't seen in years.
No…
She bolted upright, heart pounding like war drums. The air felt thick with dust. Her fingers trembled as she reached for the small desk beside her bed.
There — a calendar.
July 12, 2025.
Three months before Celestia Verge Online launched its public servers. Four months before Seraphyne smiled at her for the first time. Six months before the betrayal.
Her stomach dropped.
"No way," she whispered. "I'm… I'm back?"
She threw herself at the mirror. The face staring back wasn't the hardened, silver-armored veteran of the war. It was her — twenty, tired, and hungry. The version of herself who worked night shifts to afford the VR rig. Who preordered the game with excitement. Who dreamed of escaping the world through fantasy.
She remembered everything now. Every raid. Every lie. Every system patch. Every trick.
Especially the bug.
The early access exploit that only a few stumbled across — the one the devs patched out in 1.03, erasing those accounts. They called it a game-breaking "origin loop" that gave players access to all starter passives and no class restrictions.
She hadn't known about it back then. But she did now.
"They erased me once," she said slowly, eyes dark. "Let's see them try again."
♦︎
Two hours later, the old VR capsule hummed to life. The kind with a flawed firmware update that created the bug she needed. She'd sold it years ago — now she bought it back off an auction site for $80 and a dead phone.
She connected the pre-launch installer.
She stared at the blinking cursor.
"Welcome to Celestia Verge Online: Character Creation"
And she smiled.
"Astra's dead," she whispered.
"This time… I'm writing my own legend."