WAR

Months passed.

And with every day,
Ray fell further behind.

They fought together still —
the three of them moving through Elysium like shadows of their old selves.
But it wasn’t the same.

Every battle was just a one-sided beat down. Trey and Mars never even got touched during a fight. They both killed the monster too fast for Ray to intervene. 
Even during training Ray couldn't help his brothers. They moved too fast for him to track.

Trey was the first to change.
Once, he had followed Ray's every step like a shadow, proud to be beside him.
Now, Trey flew ahead —literally and figuratively —his heavy armor gleaming as he surfed across the battlefield on the shadow of his sword.

"Come on, Ray!" he'd bark, after fights.
"You still walking like it's your first day? Get in the fucking air already."

It was always said with a crooked grin, but the bite was real.
The respect was gone.

Marsden tried to keep the peace.
He would crack awful jokes after battles, poking Ray in the ribs, dragging laughter from Trey's reluctant mouth.

But something was changing in Marsden too.
Something deeper. Darker.
In the real world. Marsden was the closest to Dean. Marsden was usually the only one able to pull Dean out of his room.

He trained harder than ever before.
Hours of solo lightning drills, running himself bloody in the ruins while Ray and Trey set up camp.
He said less. 
Smiled less.

Every time someone mentioned Dean’s name —
Marsden’s face would tighten,
and he’d look away like he couldn't breathe.

The family was still together.
Technically.
But the cracks were spreading.

And the tails had spread about how the world of Elysium had shifted.
The world was already burning. From the inside.

The Totem Dean stole from them —the Green-Eyed Totem —
had shattered the fragile balance of Elysium.

Once players realized the Totems were real —that escape wasn't just a myth —
everything changed.

The Republic of Return rose even stronger in the South. Training for war openly.

James, the man with explosive magic, was crowned Grand Chancellor after leading the charge to reclaim a second Totem at the cost of an entire elite company — the White Company.

Their victory was bloody.
Their hope was battered.
Their faith was tested.

James was a good man with good intentions. At least, that is how it sounded to the rest of the world. Maybe that was his intention.

He formed The Congress —
a fifty-player council to keep the Republic’s leaders in check,
to prevent corruption from rotting their dream of going home.

The title Grand chancellor was given to the man that would be in charge of the military while the congress ran the country.

James had split the military into Magic Knight Companies, too many to keep track of by himself at least. Word spread of players being appointed to Captains of each company.
each assigned a color,
each given a mission:
protect the people,
hunt the Totems,
win the war.

But not all was perfect.
The Republic was fractured internally.
The Congress bickered and schemed.
Company Captains competed more for glory than for survival.
Every day, whispers grew louder of captains only wanting war.

The Totems became a second thought to them, a cost too great after the death of an entire company.

Meanwhile, across the frozen East,
the Kingdom of Stone flourished.

Not in diplomacy.
Not in civilization.

IN WAR.

The King ruled from the Obsidian Spires, six black towers rising into the clouds. One for each of his Generals and one for him and his Queen.

His right hand — the Queen — shaped the city herself, her stone magic created the walls, roads, statues, and armies. 

The King controlled it all,
commanding his armies of stone with a mere thought. His magic was controlling stone, but he couldn't shape it.

The two of them were perfect for each other. The perfect magic combo.

Five Generals answered only to the King and Queen.
Each led their own massive army, forging strength through endless bloodshed and ruthless training. 

Dean was one of them now.
General of the Third Army.

The Kingdom attracted the lost.
The broken. 
The ones who never fit in the real world.
The ones who had nothing to return to.

Gamers who finally had a world where they mattered —
and they weren't going to give it up.

The Kingdom was stronger.
Faster.
More brutal.
Better suited for war.

The Republic was winning battles only by sacrificing pieces of itself.
By buying time.
By bleeding good men dry.

War had been declared. Each country after the other's Totem.

Ray heard all of it.
Every fire-lit whisper from passing travelers.
Every battered report from fleeing Jackrabbits who hadn’t found a Totem and barely escaped the front lines.
Every drunken mercenary bragging about contracts signed in the West —about clans selling their swords to the highest bidder.

The world was a tinderbox.
And the spark had already been struck.

One night, sitting around a dying fire under a skeletal tree,
The brothers listened to another passing band of players tell stories.

The Republic hiring clans as mercenaries.
The Kingdom ambushing villages to steal resources.

Something about rumors of a new nation being formed. The Shield Nation, rising in the Northern desert, walls of steel shielding helpless civilians. A nation forming for one purpose. To defend the people trapped in this world. Not to find the Totems but keep people away from the wars in the south and east.

Marsden sat silent, arms around his knees, staring into the flames.
Trey sharpened his sword absently, not even pretending to listen.
Ray just listened to them. To every story. Ray tried to understand how the world was shaping. He just wanted to hear something about his brother Dean. To make sure he was okay.

Finally, Marsden spoke. 
"They’re losing the whole objective of the game," he said quietly.

Marsden clenched his jaw.
He kicked a stone into the fire, sending up a burst of sparks.

"We’re supposed to find the Totems.
We're supposed to save everyone.
But all we do is fight each other."

Trey answered him without even looking up,
"Or maybe this was the point. Maybe this is what Sparks wanted."
 Trey had already accepted the reality of war.

Ray couldn't find the words. He didn't know which side to take.
He just sat there wondering how to bring his family back together.

Marsden stood, walking away from the fire.
Lightning crackled faintly at his fingertips.
And for the first time since Dean left —
He didn't come back to sit with them.

Ray stared into the night sky.
Wishing he could freeze time.
Wishing he could rewind everything.

But even in Elysium,
some things couldn’t be undone.