When Auren woke the next morning, he felt lighter than he had in the past week. His body no longer dragged as if weighted down by invisible chains, his mind no longer thrummed with the ceaseless pull of Zevaros' taunt. For the first time since his character had been erased, he had slept. Dreamless, unbroken, whole.
That peace lasted only until he logged in again because after checking his terminal it was the weekend.
The hidden realm welcomed him with silence. Its jagged skies still shimmered with hunting spears of light, the altar waiting as though no time had passed since he first discovered it. Yet this time, as Auren approached, the system exploded into motion.
[SYSTEM ANNOUNCEMENT: Player "A.F" has discovered the Hidden Realm: The Field of Pursuit.]
The notification flared across every player's notices, echoing in golden letters.
[Achievement Unlocked: Pioneer of the Hunt. Reward: +3 Levels, +100 Reputation Across All Factions, + 1 Unique Title.]
[System Event: Realm Discovery. Global Boost Activated: +5% Experience for All Players for 4 Days.]
The world roared with chatter. Forums exploded, guild chats filled with disbelief, and Auren's inbox drowned under messages from strangers begging to know the secret.
Auren ignored all of it.
Levels, reputation and glory, none of that mattered. Not when Zevaros had dangled a truth in front of him like bait. The answer he had been chasing wasn't gold or fame. It was here.
The altar rumbled, shifting to reveal a figure. An NPC stepped forward, draped in black leathers stitched with bone-white threads, their eyes like molten amber. Their voice was low, edged with something that seemed far too alive to be scripted.
"You who enter the Field of Pursuit," the NPC intoned, "you who dare step into the emptiness others fear, hear the truth etched into your blood."
Auren's lips pressed thin. His hands trembled,nnot with fear, but with anticipation so sharp it bordered on hunger.
"Those born to pursue," the NPC continued, "are bound to hunt without end. They will chase down the Arbiter of Trials, conquer what stands before them, and consume it whole until nothing remains. To pursue is to exist. To exist is to never let go."
The words rang through the realm, embedding themselves into the air, into the pixels, into Auren's very skin.
For one breathless second, he went utterly still. Then his heart slammed against his ribs, pounding harder, faster, as if eager to escape and chase something, or someone. His chest tightened, heat burning through his veins like wildfire.
The Thread of Pursuit. This is the answer that Zevaros had kept from him that time. He is Bound to the thread of pursuit. It had Claimed him on the day of his rebirth and it has Defined him as a being today, because it rescued him from the consuming system.
Auren exhaled slowly, cerulean eyes reflecting the flickering altar light. His lips curved into a thin, dangerous smile. " So this is it. The thread Zevaros had refused to name. The thread woven into my soul since the day the knot tied itself around me." He mumbled under his breath as he glanced at the game's sky.
It fit all Too well. His every obsession, his every refusal to yield, his inability to release once his heart had fastened onto someone or something, it all aligned with this truth. Pursuit was not a flaw. It was his essence.
But then one question is, how had Zevaros known?
The question struck him harder than the revelation itself. The NPC was just code, a puppet scripted to reveal fragments when triggered. Yet Zevaros had left this very answer here, hidden beneath layers of maps, deaths, and riddles.
The system announcement had fired globally, meaning the realm discovery was genuine—not some private cheat. So how had Zevaros buried a personal truth within it without tripping alarms until Auren reached it himself?
Auren narrowed his eyes.
Zevaros wasn't just a player. No ordinary gamer could twist a system so vast. No ordinary hand could embed a secret like this without ripping holes in the code. There was only one reason all this could be accomplished by Zevaros.
The conclusion came with razor clarity: Zevaros was either a shareholder or a board member of Mortal's Heaven game itself. Maybe even a designer. Someone with authority deeper than anyone had guessed.
Auren's lips parted in a laugh—low, breathless and exhilarated. His pulse refused to calm, the thrill of understanding driving him higher. "He's an underworld king, he can do whatever he wants." That man. That monster. Of course he wasn't ordinary. And of course, he wasn't reachable by anyone but him.
Elsewhere, in Genesis Academy's upper floors, Zevaros' terminal chimed. The announcement scrolled across his screen, confirming what he already suspected. His wolf had succeeded. The corner of his mouth lifted, dark amusement glinting in his stormfire eyes. The smirk deepened until it made the room colder, sharp enough to freeze the spine of anyone nearby.
His PA, standing a step too close, nearly dropped his stylus. The smirk meant only one thing: someone had walked straight into the trap.
Zevaros dismissed the alert with a flick, attention sliding back to his class. The professor droned on, classmates whispered about the contents of the class, but none of it mattered to Zevaros. His focus was tethered elsewhere.
Auren and his Thread of Pursuit.
Zevaros tapped his desk once, twice, a soundless rhythm of satisfaction. The wolf had uncovered the truth. Now all that was left was to see what he would do with it.
Meanwhile, Auren continued to stare at his terminal even after logging out. The weight of the revelation clung to him, filling his lungs until he couldn't breathe without thinking of it.
The Thread of Pursuit. This is his truth. It is either a curse or a blessing it is his power.
His first instinct was to run and find his closest confidant. He wanted to find Eiran and spill everything, to share the burden before it crushed him. He even rose from his chair, steps carrying him halfway down the corridor toward the fox's dorm before he stopped cold.
Did he really want to tell him?
Would Eiran understand what it meant, to be bound to chase without end, to be unable to release once his claws fastened onto prey? To crave until it burned him alive? Or would Eiran flinch, recoil, and place distance where Auren wanted closeness?
Auren stood frozen, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. His reflection in the window caught his eye: pale, red shot cerulean eyes, lips drawn into a thin, sharp line. No. He couldn't tell him everything. Not yet.
But hiding it completely wasn't an option either. After long contemplation, he chose the middle ground. That evening, under the muted glow of the dorm lights, Auren sat with Eiran at the cafeteria. The fox tilted his head, sharp ears perked with curiosity, tail flicking lazily behind him.
"You've been… different this last week," Eiran said softly. "Obsession suits you, but it's eating you alive. Did you find what you were looking for?"
Auren hesitated. Then, with a measured breath, he nodded. "Yes. I found it."
"And?"
Auren's gaze slid away, locking onto the shadows stretching across the floor. "I… am bound to a Thread. The Thread of Pursuit."
Eiran blinked. The words hung in the air like a blade poised above them both. For a long moment, silence stretched, the kind that could snap under the weight of a single breath.
Then Eiran's lips curled into a small, crooked smile. "Figures. You never let go once you sink your teeth in."
Auren stiffened, his eyes darting back to him, searching for mockery or fear. But there was none. Only quiet acceptance, as if Eiran had known all along. Something in Auren's chest loosened, though his hands still trembled beneath the table.
He told Eiran only that much. Not the altar, not the strange NPC, not Zevaros' fingerprints buried in the code. Those truths remained his, locked tight against his ribs.
For now.
Later on that night, as Auren lay in bed, the revelation replayed in his mind again and again.
" To pursue is to exist. To exist is to never let go." His lips parted in a whisper, almost a vow. "I won't let go. Not of you. Not of any of you."
The bright glow of his eyes lingered long after he closed them.
And somewhere in the Genesis academy's upper floors, Zevaros' smirk mirrored his own.