CHAPTER 191: HOLIDAY [3]

[Paladin Avatar, Crimson Saint has logged into the game!]

[Paladin Avatar, Dain Ironvalor has logged into the game!]

[Elementalist Avatar, Captain Batman has logged into the game!]

[Blademaster Avatar, Reckless Storm has logged into the game!]

[...]

[...]

The sun was still rising over Miami when the makeshift gaming booth inside Echelon’s villa flared to life.

LED strips bathed the room in ambient blue, towering curved monitors hummed softly, while cables were tucked neatly. Drinks and snacks lined the side counters like provisions for a long voyage.

It wasn’t a gaming booth anymore. It was a command center.

A war table. A digital throne room for returning kings. Well, if shameless old friends could be called returning kings.

And every seat was taken.

The all-star squad was assembled, a motley mix of Echelon veterans and ex legends of the English Pro Alliance now part of the larger family.

Noah sat dead center, silent, calculating, and utterly calm. Gabriel lounged to the side, already sipping a drink, sunglasses still on indoors. Jonathan was mid-rant, berating his pet Summon for being too fat for tight hallways.

Ben adjusted the cooling fans under his chair even as he also logged into the game with his Avatar. "Hope this monastery’s holy enough to forgive our sins from Patch 5.8".

Caleb smirked, throwing a glance at his old friend. "The only sin here is you thinking those elemental macros still work".

"Let’s just start," Aria groaned, cracking her knuckles. "The trash talk is more outdated than Gabriel’s Warlock build".

"I mean, in this modern day and age, who still trashtalks?"

"Me". Benjamin raised a hand.

Aria groaned and glared at him.

"My Warlock build is a classic," Gabriel didn’t forget her comment though as he fired back at Aria. Not Phoenix Rising’s Gabriel, rather, the retired Gabriel, Nightfall’s first team captain.

Aria stared at him. Gabriel stared back without shrinking; he grinned. "I mean, it won tournaments when your Blademaster was still button-mashing in bronze".

Aria smiled. "Really?"

"Of course".

Before she could retort, Nightingale’s voice echoed from the far corner, calm and amused. "Don’t die in the loading screen, gentlemen".

They gave each other a look and then, they focused on their screens.

~----~

[WARNING! You have entered an SSS-Rank Dungeon!]

[Location: Grand Monastery of Aetheryos – Outer Courtyard]

~----~

BZZZ!

The Avatars entered the dungeon at the same time.

As soon as they entered the dungeon, they switched without a moment of hesitation, shedding their lighthearted demeanor and switching to battle mode instantly.

The team spawned in a circle, surrounded by white stone steps and towering archways. Everything shimmered with divine energy.

Gold-accented mosaics covered the courtyard floor, each depicting long-forgotten battles, angels and avatars locked in celestial struggle.

The silence was sacred. Reverent. Holy.

Then, Jonathan sneezed and triggered a rune trap.

Silence.

And just like that, the seriousness that they managed to cultivate after entering inside the SSS-Rank dungeon disappeared.

’Uh oh’.

A beam of celestial fire roared down from the sky, scorching Crimson Saint’s HP bar to 13% in an instant!

"Yo!" He exclaimed, shouting. "It’s too early for divine judgement!"

"You triggered a Glyph of Contrition," Caleb said dryly. "Maybe the monastery didn’t like your fashion sense".

"Your existence is the trap," Aria added.

They pushed forward, laughing, bickering, and occasionally stopping to gawk at the map design. Ahead stood the gates of the Monastic Courtyard, carved with shimmering words: Only silence passes through.

And then, they had their first encounter in the SSS-Ranked dungeon.

The gates ahead of them opened.

There, a dozen monk-like figures awaited them; hooded, faceless, levitating inches off the ground. When the players stepped into the zone, the monks raised their hands in unison and began to chant.

Soft and harmonic at first.

Then it escalated.

The monks moved as one, attacking to the rhythm of the divine chorus. It was like fighting music itself, a literally crazy design. Their abilities were choreographed; wave-based AOE attacks, echo bursts, and reflection shields.

"Interrupt the altos!" Caleb barked. "Jonathan, silence the bass line!"

"On it!"

As soon as the danger came, the group reacted seamlessly.

Yes, they were shameless veterans of the English Pro Alliance who decided to raid an SSS-Rank dungeon as the venue of their reunion party.

Yes, they were unhinged without a single shred of shame.

But, they were also masters, veterans of the revolutionary video game called Warstar. Most of them were retired, but they played Warstar for a living at the very highest level for years. And till today, they still played the game for fun.

In England’s Warstar esports scene, they were the best of the best.

And now, faced against a threat in the SSS-Rank dungeon, they didn’t even need anybody to lead them. They reacted seamlessly, wordlessly dividing duties among themselves with their class composition as the basis.

Healers fell back, protected by disruption classes like Psychics and at least one defensive class, a Paladin.

The other Paladins all charged forward, acting as the tank.

As for the close range DBS classes? The Blademasters, Combat Mages? They all surged forward after the Paladins, ready to attack after they stemmed the momentum of the sinking monks.

As for the AOE attack classes? The Elementalists, Gunners, Launchers, they stayed in the middle of the makeshift formation, already unleashing hell on the poor monks protecting the monastery.

Gabriel’s Warlock unleashed an ancient pro level combo; Void Chime + Dissonant Pulse, interrupting three monks at once.

At the same time, Aria’s Blademaster surged ahead in a blur, weaving through harmonic shockwaves, her blades singing louder than the enemy choir.

Shwing!

In her hand, the Blades of Aamon slashed like death reapers.

"Still got it," she muttered, excitement gleaming in her eyes behind her monitor as her left hand flew across the surface of her keyboard.

Tap! Tap! Tap!

Beside her, Ben’s fingers also danced across his keyboard and in the game, his Avatar launched a fiery glyph skyward.

"Synchronized slaughter! Let’s go!"

In two minutes, the monks were down.

The battlefield fell quiet again, save for their laughter.

"I thought that mechanic was gonna break us," Jonathan admitted with a chuckle.

Noah smirked. "It tried".

In this dungeon, he didn’t even need to do anything special.

This was because he was raiding the dungeon with special players. Every one of them performed their roles to perfection, making it one of the simplest raids ever to him for now even though it was a bonafide SSS-Rank 20-man dungeon.

It was like talking a walk down a park.

As they crossed into the inner sanctum of the monastery, the music dulled. The architecture turned dark, with shifting murals and floating candles lighting the way. Then came the voice.

"Unworthy echoes disturb the silence... you shall not reach the altar".

As soon as the voice reverberated, a phenomenon followed.

Suddenly, a gust of divine wind blew out every candle at once. Darkness swept over the party’s screen.

"Finally," Gabriel said. "A boss with some manners".

His words barely died down when the portal flared with divine light, and then they were in.

The Grand Monastery of Aetheryos did not greet intruders with monsters, but with silence not the absence of sound, but a heavy, choking stillness that pressed into the soul.

The moment the twenty man squad stepped through, they felt it. A quiet so oppressive it bordered on violent.

Marble towers twisted like ivory spires into a storm-filled sky, fractured stained glass windows depicting forgotten saints and slain gods. The wind didn’t blow, the dust didn’t shift.

The monastery had not been disturbed for centuries... until now.

Nightingale was not part of the raid party, but having followed his players on their vacation, he was like a commentator in this raid.

At least, that way, he would be joining in the fun.

His voice came through party chat, low and grim.

"Don’t let your guard down. The bosses here don’t roar, they whisper".

Jonathan sighed. "Noah tell me again, how on earth did you get Nightingale to become the boss of your team?"

"I almost feel so bad. I mean, come on, my boss would rather visit a pool with his concubines than spend a minute of his time watching us raiding a dungeon".

Noah grinned. "Jonathan, nothing personal but when you’re good, good things naturally come to you".

"Says the guy that was forced into retirement". He laughed. "I mean, we’re the same age but my boss have never even told me about retirement".

"Maybe you’re the one who’s not good enough".

Noah smiled. "He just doesn’t want to hurt your feelings".

Jonathan laughed again. "Ouch..., good one there".

Noah laughed.

Their team, an elite formation of legendary players, former pros, and battle-hardened lunatics spread out in a new formation as soon as they passed through the portal.

This time, Noah took point, as always. Aria stalked beside him, silent and deadly. Caleb’s summoned arcane warden hovered just behind them, humming with kinetic energy.

Jonathan already forgot Noah as he traded jokes with Benjamin in whispers.

They advanced through the Hall of Hollow Sermons, a corridor lined with statues of hooded priests. Their eyes bled obsidian.

"I don’t like this," Genevieve muttered. "I think something’s watching".

As if on cue, the statues turned.