Chapter 1 - MoonVoid

The full moon in 7 Haven wasn’t just a pretty texture slapped onto the skybox.

It was ominous. Like the light itself was viscous, pouring down from the pixels and covering everything.

Even the usual bustle of the near marketplace felt muted, the NPC merchants usual calls were lower, the clatter of player footsteps less. It was like the entire game world was holding its breath.

“Lagging a bit, anyone else?” I typed into guild chat.

My avatar, Anythng with all black leather and dragon armour stood patiently near the crafting stalls. But really, I was just flexing for the newbies who were probably watching my every move. Guild Leader status had its perks, and subtle intimidation was definitely one of them.

A flurry of ‘No lags here’ and ‘Smooth’ popped up in the chat window.

Typical. My computer was top-of-the-line. If I was feeling a tiny stutter, something was genuinely off. Or maybe it was just the atmosphere getting to me.

7 Haven did that sometimes. It had a way of seeping under your skin.

“Maybe it’s the moon vibes” Said Seraphina39, our magician wanna be. “Full moon’s supposed to amp up the mana flow, right? Maybe the servers are just feeling the strain.”

I snorted, a quiet puff of air that wouldn’t disturb my carefully curated ‘cool and collected’ persona. “Mana flow? We’re doing a simple mission, not summoning ancient monsters. It’s probably just patch day.”

Even as I typed it, though, a tiny prickle of unease ran down my spine.

7 Haven patches were usually slick, their dev team was notoriously meticulous.

‘Patch day’ was just my go to dismissive phrase for anything I didn't immediately understand. And honestly, I prided myself on understanding 7 Haven. Inside and out.

Class builds, exploit routes, rare item drops I’d practically written the damn guide myself, if I wasn’t too busy actually playing.

“Still” Sera persisted, her text-based voice sounding worried “there’s always something extra on full moon nights. Remember that weird event last month with the corrupted moonpetal blossoms? Nobody ever figured out why they turned hostile.”

Okay, she had a point. 7 Haven did have a knack for throwing in these little, unexplained curveballs. Little atmospheric details, minor event triggers, stuff that added to the overall depth of the game world.

But hostile flowers? That was just weird. Probably a bug they’d never bothered to squash.

“Alright, alright, Sera, Moon vibes acknowledged” I conceded, typing with exaggerated patience. “But tonight, vibes or no vibes, We are going to climb that PvP ladder. Rank 5 is looking a little lonely.”

A chorus of ‘Go get ‘em, Anythng!’ and ‘Crush ‘em all!’ flooded the chat.

I allowed myself a small, satisfied smirk. Rank 5 was within spitting distance, and tonight felt like the night. My build was optimized, my reflexes were sharp, and frankly, I was just in the mood to stomp some noobs.

PvP in 7 Haven was less about random brawls and more about calculated strategy, intricate skill rotations, and exploiting every tiny advantage the game offered.

I navigated to the PvP queue. Even after hundreds of matches, that pre-fight adrenaline still hit.

The queue popped almost instantly. “Match found,” the system voice intoned in my headset, a little too loudly, making me flinch slightly.

“Opponent: MoonVoid.”

MoonVoid. Huh. Didn’t recognize the name. Probably some fresh-faced newbie, eager to test their mettle against a ‘legend’.

Easy points. Easy climb to Rank 5. A little too easy, maybe? But hey, I wasn’t complaining.

The arena loaded, the familiar cobblestone circle surrounded by cheering virtual spectators.

My avatar materialized, armour glowing faintly in the moonlight. I took a quick scan of the environment, mentally mapping out cover points, spawn locations, potential choke points ingrained habits from countless arena battles.

Then, MoonVoid shimmered into existence opposite me.

And okay, maybe ‘newbie’ was jumping the gun.

Their avatar was indistinct. Not in a low-level, badly-geared way. More like they were actively obscured.

Dark, swirling shadows seemed to cling to their form, blurring the edges, swallowing details.

I couldn’t make out class, armor type, even basic features. It was like looking at a void in the shape of a person. And under the already muted moonlight, they seemed to absorb even more light, becoming almost invisible against the arena’s backdrop.

“Is this some new meta?” I muttered under my breath, a nervous laugh escaping. Showmanship was one thing, but this felt excessive. And a little unsettling.

I checked the player profile that popped up automatically when a match started.

Bare bones.

Username: MoonVoid.

Rank: Unranked.

Guild: None.

Playtime: Minimal.

Everything screamed ‘alt account’ or ‘brand new player.’ But something about that shadowed avatar, that deliberate lack of information it felt off.

The pre-match countdown began.

Three… two… one… FIGHT!

I didn’t hesitate. Years of PvP training kicked in. initiating my opening rotation a swift dash forward, a crippling hamstring shot, followed by a flurry of rapid strikes designed to break their defenses and open them up for a finishing blow.

Except… MoonVoid wasn’t there.

Or rather, they were there, but not where they should be. My dash animation completed, my avatar skidding to a halt in empty air.

MoonVoid was gone. No, not gone. Moved. Faster than I could track. Faster than any unranked player should be able to move, especially in that heavy-looking, shadowy armor or whatever that was.

A prickle of genuine alarm shot through me. This wasn’t normal. This wasn’t just skill. This was something else.

Suddenly, a flash of movement to my side. Too fast to properly register, just a blur of shadow. Then, a sharp, searing pain blossomed across my avatar’s back.

My health bar dipped, noticeably. Not a critical hit, but substantial damage. And what was that damage type? It wasn’t physical, wasn’t elemental.

I spun around, reflexes screaming, adrenaline flooding my system. MoonVoid was there now, a few paces away, still wreathed in shadows.

They hadn’t used a flashy skill animation, no dramatic wind-up, no telltale spellcasting pose. Just moved and attacked, with an almost unsettling economy of motion.

I adjusted my strategy, shifting to a more defensive stance, activating my evasion buff, preparing to counterattack. This wasn’t going to be the easy stomp I’d anticipated. This was something else entirely.

I tried to analyze their movements, predict their next attack, anticipate their tactics. Years of PvP experience, honed instincts, ingrained game knowledge all screaming at me to adapt, to analyze, to win.

But it was like trying to grasp smoke. MoonVoids movements were fluid, unpredictable, almost random in their seeming randomness.

Yet, every attack, every dodge, every repositioning it felt like a calculated, almost surgical dismantling of my playstyle. They weren’t just reacting to me, they were anticipating me, preempting my moves, countering strategies I hadn’t even fully committed to yet.

My health bar continued to dwindle, chipped away by those swift, silent attacks. I managed to land a few hits of my own, but they seemed to glance off MoonVoid’s shadowy form, doing minimal damage.

It was like hitting a ghost.

Panic started to creep in. This wasn’t just losing. This was being dismantled and outclassed.

In a way I hadn’t experienced in years. Not even against the top-ranked players, the true ‘legends’ of 7 Haven PvP, had I felt this utterly helpless.

And then, it was over.

One moment, I was trying to desperately scramble for cover, chugging a health potion, frantically trying to re-evaluate my entire combat approach.

The next, my avatar was collapsing to its knees, the screen fading to grey, the word “DEFEAT” flashing in stark red across my vision.

I ripped off my VR headset, throwing it onto my desk with more force than intended.

“What… just happened?” I whispered to the empty room.

My heart was pounding, breath coming in ragged gasps.

I stared at the replay window on my monitor, the match stats glaring at me.

Damage taken: astronomical.

Damage dealt: pathetic.

Accuracy: abysmal.

Everything screamed ‘utter failure.’

But it wasn’t just the stats. It was the feeling of the match. The unsettling precision of MoonVoid’s movements, the way their attacks seemed to anticipate my every move.

I leaned back in my chair, running a hand through my already disheveled hair.

MoonVoid. Unranked. Minimal playtime.

And they’d just utterly dismantled Anythng, Rank 6, veteran PvP player, self-proclaimed ‘grandmaster’ of 7 Haven combat.

My ego, felt cracked, chipped.

“Okay” I muttered, forcing a semblance of calm into my voice. “Okay, Liam. Analyze. Learn. Adapt.” That was the gamer mantra, right? Dust yourself off, figure out what went wrong, and come back stronger.

But even as I started to replay the match footage, frame by agonizing frame, a cold, persistent doubt gnawed at the edges of my resolve.

This wasn’t just about learning from a loss.

This felt like I’d just encountered something in 7 Haven that wasn’t supposed to be there.