NOVPUBA space cleared around him as he walked, players stepping aside with expressions ranging from awe to uncertainty to desperate hope.
"Is it true?" someone called. "Is the merge really happening?"
Arthur stopped, scanning the crowd.
Hundreds of eyes fixed on him, hunger for reassurance naked on their faces.
Some had abandoned their jobs, their certainties—all on his word.
'Now I must give them something to believe in.'
"Yes," he said, voice carrying across the hushed square. "And we have work to do."
Wind rustled through the village, carrying whispers. Faces turned toward him—hundreds, then thousand, as word spread.
"Everyone, follow me."
Authority resonated in his voice. "I'll be making an announcement that every player in this village needs to hear."
He didn't wait for acknowledgement. He didn't need to.
Arthur strode toward the central plaza.
The crowd parted before him like water around a stone, then closed to follow in his wake. A living current of humanity, drawn by desperation and hope.
Veterans recognised the path he chose. The oldest players exchanged knowing glances.
The beginning place. Where it all started.
The plaza opened before them—the heart of Village #420, where Arthur had first established his merchant stall a month and so ago. A simple wooden platform had been erected in the centre, likely by the Mayor's staff, anticipating this moment.
Arthur climbed the steps without hesitation. From this vantage, he could see them all—a sea of faces upturned like flowers seeking light.
Too many weaklings. Too many unprepared souls.
The crowd's murmurs died as Arthur raised his hand. Silence fell, heavy and expectant.
"I'm sure you've all seen my video." His voice carried without shouting. "I'm not here to repeat what I've already said."
He let his gaze sweep across the gathering, meeting eyes, establishing connection. Some nodded. Others clutched weapons with white-knuckled grips.
"I'm here to tell you that we are one community."
A breeze stirred his hair, cooling and soothing.
"This place, this world—each person was placed here for a reason. We've fought together against monsters. We've leveled up side by side. Some have shared meals in the inn; others have shared life and death experiences."
Nods rippled through the crowd.
Arthur continued, although his expression had darkened. "Yes, I know you can't die in this world—not permanently."
He let the words hang in the air, a prelude to what came next.
"But soon, you will."
Shock rippled through the gathering.
A woman gasped.
A burly warrior crossed his arms, scepticism and worry written across his features.
"Your death after the merge will most likely become real." Arthur's voice hardened. "No—in fact, I'm certain it will become real."
Tension coiled tighter. Fear spiked sharp enough to taste.
"Did any of you ever think about how you teleport here?"
The question hung in the air, unexpected. Players exchanged confused glances.
"Why do you vanish from the real world and appear here? Yet when you die, you wake up back in your body?"
Silence stretched, heavy.
No one spoke. No one moved.
Arthur stepped to the edge of the platform. "I'll tell you why."
He paused, gathering their attention like a physical force.
"Though I can't be completely certain, I believe your death here is the death of a certain part of your soul."
Whispers erupted, quickly stilled as he continued.
"Whenever you die here, you lose a level, correct?"
Nods throughout the crowd.
This was known. This was certain.
Arthur's next words shattered that certainty.
"Your soul is split into two when you enter Armageddon. One part enters this world. The other exists... elsewhere."
His gaze grew distant, as if seeing beyond the physical realm.
"I'm not certain where that other fragment resides, but it remains safe. When you die here, your soul fragment returns to Earth, which is why you wake in your physical body."
Arthur's voice dropped lower, forcing them to lean forward.
"But when the worlds merge, your damaged soul will reunite with your physical form."
The silence that followed was absolute. A thousand breaths held.
A thousand minds were racing about the implications. How many had died in the past month, how many had ignored it?
"Most of you are asking yourselves what this means." Arthur's eyes scanned the crowd. "I wish I could tell you with certainty. But I can't—because I don't know."
He straightened, voice strengthening.
"However, if my hypothesis is correct—and I believe it is—then your levels represent more than just status in a game. They represent the integrity of your soul. The more you died, the more damaged your essence."
Horror dawned on faces throughout the crowd. Particularly those who had died repeatedly. Those who had treated death as inconsequential.
"Every person in this place should prioritize increasing their level as quickly as possible." Arthur's tone brooked no argument. "Before the merge completes."
A player near the front—a veteran with a scarred face—called out, "Why tell us this now? Why not before?"
Fair question. In fact it was a dangerous question.
Arthur's expression shifted.
"Because I couldn't."
The admission hung in the air.
"I know this comes late. Some of you have already died many times." His voice grew quiet, yet somehow carried farther. "But I couldn't speak earlier because I wasn't free to do so."
The crowd leaned closer, tension building.
"Since I disappeared from the village weeks ago, rumors spread. Some thought I'd gone to the city. Others believed I'd abandoned the village or died in real life."
Arthur's hands gripped the edge of the platform, knuckles whitening.
"The truth is far darker."
He looked up, meeting their eyes directly.
"I was a hostage of the military."
Gasps rippled through the crowd. Shock. Disbelief.
"The same military I warned you about in the video." His voice hardened. "They tried to force me to use my power, my items to help them. At that time, i came to know about their plans to weaponize awakened individuals."
The oldest players—those who'd known Fateless from the beginning—looked most shocked. This wasn't the merchant they knew. This was someone else entirely.
"They held me captive. Experimented on me."
