Chapter 1: The Night the Servers Collided
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## Ryan
There is a particular kind of peace that exists inside a well-built server.
It is not silent.
It is not calm.
But it is controlled chaos — the kind that belongs to you.
That evening, **VTG** was alive the way it always was when everyone had nothing better to do. Wakasa was arguing about something irrelevant. Crusher was spamming memes. Vermillion was laughing too loudly. Notifications blinked like a rhythm only we understood.
It was normal.
Until it wasn't.
The first message appeared casually.
"VTG fell off."
No one reacted.
Then another.
"Your owner hides offline."
Crusher responded instantly. Wakasa followed. I leaned back in my chair, reading the usernames that had just joined.
They were from **Palex**.
And they weren't here to talk.
Within minutes, insults were being exchanged with reckless enthusiasm. Ego escalated faster than logic. Voices grew louder in chat. Caps lock became a weapon.
Ariyan wasn't online.
That irritated me more than the insults.
He was the co-owner. The calm one. The rational one. And he was nowhere to be seen when outsiders stepped into our territory.
So I did what pride often convinces young men to do.
I crossed the line.
I joined Palex.
If they wanted confrontation, I would meet them directly. I entered their general channel and began typing — not carefully, not strategically — but impulsively.
And then I noticed something peculiar.
One of the loudest members arguing with me had a different server logo in his profile.
Pink and silver.
**Venux.**
Curiosity, once awakened, is difficult to ignore.
Without hesitation, I clicked.
And I joined.
---
## Cherry
Leadership at seventeen is rarely taken seriously.
People assume it is temporary. Emotional. Dramatic.
They are often wrong.
Venux was not an accident. It was structured, maintained, built carefully over time. I knew every active member, every frequent complaint, every silent observer.
So when a stranger from VTG entered and immediately began accusing my members of supporting a fight we had no involvement in, I did not remain silent.
His username was Ryan.
He typed quickly. Aggressively. As though volume could compensate for clarity.
Jassu responded first. Aman followed. Messages layered over one another until the chat moved too quickly to read comfortably.
I observed for a moment.
Then I stepped in.
"You don't get to enter Venux and blame us for something that isn't ours."
He replied almost instantly.
"You don't get to pretend you're uninvolved."
The accusation irritated me more than the tone.
We had no alliance with Palex. No conflict with VTG. This was someone else's misunderstanding spilling into my space.
And yet he continued.
Then he said something careless.
"Tell your owner to control her server."
For a brief second, I considered ignoring it.
Instead, I typed:
"I am the owner."
There was a pause.
Then his reply appeared.
"Kid behavior."
The word lingered on my screen longer than it should have.
Kid.
I had heard it before. From older boys who assumed leadership required age. From strangers who confused confidence with immaturity.
But this felt different.
Not because it hurt.
But because it was deliberate.
---
## Ariyan
I dislike unnecessary conflict.
When Ryan's name appeared repeatedly in VTG's notification feed, I knew something had escalated beyond harmless banter.
He called instead of texting.
That confirmed it.
"There's a situation," he said.
There is always a situation with him.
He explained the conflict in fragments — Palex initiated, Venux defending, misunderstandings overlapping.
"Why are you in Venux?" I asked.
Silence.
Then, "It just happened."
Of course it did.
I requested the link.
Venux was structured. Active. Clean design. Someone had invested time into building it properly.
General chat resembled a battlefield.
Ryan arguing.
Multiple members responding.
One username consistent.
Cherry.
Her tone was sharp but controlled. Defensive but not irrational. She did not flood the chat with unnecessary hostility.
She spoke like someone protecting territory.
I observed for several minutes before typing.
"Enough."
The chat slowed slightly.
Then I added, "If there is an issue, we clarify it properly."
Cherry responded immediately.
"Then tell your friend to stop attacking my server."
Her anger was measured.
Ryan whispered through the call, "Bro, say something strong."
Strength does not require noise.
I reviewed the thread. Ryan had indeed entered first. He had escalated.
Predictable.
"This is between Palex and VTG," I wrote. "Venux is not required to participate."
Cherry's reply came slower this time.
"He entered Venux first."
Accurate.
I exhaled quietly.
Then I typed, without overthinking it:
"Relax, kid."
The reaction was immediate.
"Don't call me that."
Interesting.
Most people ignore dismissive words.
She did not.
"Then don't react impulsively," I replied.
The fight did not end.
Palex continued provoking from the background. Ryan continued defending his pride. Venux members remained alert.
The misunderstanding was far from resolved.
But amidst the overlapping accusations and rising tension, one detail stood out clearly.
Cherry did not retreat.
She did not log off.
She did not hide behind others.
She stayed.
And for reasons I did not yet understand—
I found myself watching her responses more closely than the argument itself.
The servers had collided.
The conflict had only begun.
And something told me this would not dissolve overnight.