Chapter 21 – The Smiling Mask
The volcanic air of Muspelheim shimmered in waves of heat, painting the horizon in molten gold.
Even here, in one of Yggdrasil's most hostile realms, our meeting place looked almost mundane—a hollow cavern carved deep into a black cliff, its entrance hidden by smoke and flickering ember-light.
It wasn't our actual base, of course. The true Three Burning Eye guild base—Aeternum Sanctum—was safely tucked inside its portable world-item form, sealed within the crystal staff I carried. But for appearances, we always met like this: in a neutral zone, untraceable, off-grid.
Inside the cavern, dozens of shimmering holographic sigils glowed along the obsidian walls. Each represented an active guild connection—our members phasing in from all across Yggdrasil.
When I stepped inside, the chatter hit me immediately.
"Yo, Trave! Took you long enough!"
"World Champion shows up fashionably late, huh?"
"Can't blame him. He's famous now!"
"Hah, yeah, our boss is a celebrity!"
Their laughter filled the space, bright and chaotic.
I waved one hand lazily, smiling under my hat. "Relax. I'm only late because Muspelheim's weather tried to roast me alive. Again."
That earned a few more chuckles.
Even though most of them didn't know my real name, Traveler_R—or Trave, as they called me—had become something of a legend among our group. After the World Tournament, the guild chat had exploded with speculation. My victory wasn't just unexpected; it was absurd. I'd beaten players who had specialized combat builds, perfect coordination, years of grinding.
And now, as everyone gathered for our regular meeting, I could sense the curiosity radiating off them like heat from the volcanic floor.
---
There were nine of us in the core circle, the original founders of Three Burning Eye.
Mizuki—our chaos-loving assassin from Alfheim—was sprawled across a glowing rock, chewing on something that looked suspiciously like roasted wyvern meat.
Sergei, the taciturn knight from Midgard, stood quietly near the back, his full-plate armor reflecting the flicker of magma.
Nash, the crafter from Nidavellir, fiddled with a floating schematic, half-listening and half-revising blueprints.
And then there was Enra, the elemental mage from Niflheim—our guild's unofficial "voice of reason," who looked at me with the same mix of curiosity and exasperation she always did when I pulled something dramatic.
"So," she began, pushing her glasses up her nose, "before we start—can we acknowledge the obvious? Our dear Trave just became a World Champion and didn't even tell us until the system announcement popped up."
All eyes turned to me.
I raised both hands, palms outward. "In my defense, I was a bit busy not dying to level 100 players."
Mizuki snorted. "Oh, sure, sure. Too busy winning to brag. How tragic."
The laughter came again, but underneath it I could feel the real question simmering.
It was in the glances, the faint hush between jokes, the tension in the air.
They wanted to ask it—but no one wanted to be first.
So I saved them the trouble.
---
"Alright," I said, exhaling, "before anyone asks—yeah. The rumors are true."
I let the illusion drop.
A ripple passed through the air around me, bending light like water. The default human form—tall, dark-haired, unremarkable—peeled away like old paint, replaced by my real self.
The temperature in the cavern dropped a few degrees as the change completed.
The figure standing before them wasn't human. My skin shimmered faintly, pale as moonlight, with faint silver lines tracing geometric shapes along my arms and neck—like living circuitry. My face was smooth, featureless except for a faint carved smile where a mouth should be, and my eyes burned softly with shifting color—blue, green, silver, cycling endlessly.
I wore a white turtleneck, simple and unadorned, matched with white trousers and a crimson overcoat that draped just above my knees.
A broad red cowboy hat sat slightly tilted on my head.
And around my fingers, ten faintly glowing chains coiled lazily, like silver serpents asleep in the heat.
For a moment, no one spoke.
Then Mizuki broke the silence with a dramatic gasp. "Oh. My. GODS. You're hot."
Enra groaned audibly. "Mizuki, please."
Sergei chuckled behind his visor. "I can't decide if I should be impressed or terrified."
Nash whistled. "So you're really a Doppelgänger, huh? No wonder your stat screens never made sense."
"Surprise," I said, spreading my hands slightly. The chains followed the motion, flickering with reflected light.
---
Enra crossed her arms. "I should've known. You've been manipulating illusions since forever. But I'll admit, I didn't expect… this."
"Neither did I," said another guild member, laughing. "You're like some weird mix between a data spirit and a fashion designer."
"Don't forget cowboy," Mizuki added helpfully.
I laughed softly. "Yeah, well… I figured if I'm going to reveal my true form, I might as well make it stylish."
Enra sighed. "You never change."
"Wouldn't be fun if I did."
That got another wave of laughter, but now the tension had shifted. Curiosity gave way to admiration, and a little awe.
For years, I'd hidden this side of myself. My "Traveler_R" identity had always been a mask—human, anonymous, plain. I'd built Three Burning Eye around deception and secrecy, but the truth was, I didn't hide because I distrusted them. I hid because illusion was my nature.
Now, standing here as a true Doppelgänger, I felt… lighter.
---
Mizuki leaned forward, eyes sparkling. "Okay, okay, so you have to show us something. I mean, come on! How much can you change?"
I chuckled. "You really want a demonstration?"
"YES!" half the room answered at once.
I raised a hand, fingers flicking once. The air rippled again—like heat shimmer across molten stone.
In an instant, my form twisted and reshaped. My white hair darkened, my frame thickened, armor sprouting like scales.
When the light cleared, Sergei was staring at… Sergei.
His identical copy grinned back at him. "Hello, handsome."
The real Sergei took an involuntary step back. "Okay, that's unsettling."
"Wait, wait, do me next!" Mizuki squealed.
A flicker, a pulse—and then I was Mizuki, down to the smallest details. The way her tail swished, the mischievous tilt of her grin.
"Wow," I said in her voice, "you're even louder from this side."
"HEY!"
Laughter erupted through the cavern, echoing off the magma walls.
I dropped the illusion with a wave, returning to my real form.
"Alright, alright, before you all start requesting body doubles, remember—I can only copy up to ninety-five percent of someone's power. That's the limit of my racial class. Any more than that, and the data starts breaking apart."
Enra raised an eyebrow. "Ninety-five percent? That's still absurd."
I shrugged modestly. "Hey, balance matters. The devs thought ahead. Greatest Doppelgängers aren't supposed to replace gods—just imitate them."
---
Sergei folded his arms. "Still, that means you could mimic anyone in this room. You could even fight like us."
"Technically, yes," I said. "But I wouldn't. Not unless I needed to."
"Why not?"
"Because knowing someone's power isn't the same as knowing their soul."
That earned a quiet moment. Even Mizuki stopped chewing her meat stick.
I smiled faintly, the painted grin on my faceplate catching the red glow of the lava.
"Power's easy to copy," I said softly. "But the heart behind it—the decisions, the instincts, the reasons you fight—those are impossible to duplicate. That's what makes each of you special."
Nash gave a low whistle. "You're getting philosophical on us, boss."
"I've been hanging around too many philosophers lately," I said. "Developers count, right?"
That earned another wave of laughter, lighter this time.
---
We spent the next hour just talking.
The usual guild business came up—data reports, item trades, network checks—but most of it dissolved into casual banter.
Several members had also joined the world tournament, though none made it past the preliminaries. A few complained about overpowered opponents from Alfheim or Asgard. Others shared clips of ridiculous moments—like when one player got disqualified for accidentally nuking an entire spectator platform.
It was the kind of chaos I loved most about Three Burning Eye. For all our reputation as data brokers and spies, at heart we were just players who loved stories.
Eventually, the conversation circled back to me again.
"So, boss," Enra said, leaning back against a rock, "what's next for the almighty World Champion?"
I tilted my head thoughtfully. "Sleep, maybe. Then… experiments."
"Experiments?" Mizuki asked, eyes wide.
I lifted my hand, letting the silver chains glimmer faintly. "Let's just say I've got a new toy to test."
Their eyes widened as one.
"That's the Divine-Class Item you got, right?"
"Come on, show it!"
"Yeah, what does it do?"
I smirked. "You'll find out soon enough. But trust me—it's not something you want me to use on friends."
That shut them up pretty fast.
Mizuki pouted. "Booooo."
Enra shook her head. "You really enjoy being mysterious, don't you?"
I chuckled. "Occupational hazard of being an illusionist."
---
When the meeting wrapped up, the chatter faded into comfortable silence.
One by one, the members logged out or phased back into the system, their holographic sigils winking out like dying embers.
Soon it was just me, Enra, and HIME—my ever-present companion, projected as a small, luminous figure floating near my shoulder.
Her voice was calm as always. "Ren-sama, would you like me to initialize the guild base?"
"Yeah," I said softly. "Let's bring it home."
The staff materialized in my hand, glowing faintly with divine light.
I pressed the crystal head gently against the ground.
The world trembled.
Rings of light spread outward, forming fractal symbols that crawled across the stone. The air grew heavy, saturated with data.
Then, like a mirage solidifying, the entrance to Aeternum Sanctum appeared before us—a grand portal of living crystal framed in molten gold.
Enra whistled low. "Still gives me chills every time."
"Same," I admitted.
We stepped through together.
---
Inside, the guild base was silent and beautiful as ever. The faint hum of energy filled the air; soft blue lights pulsed along the walls like a heartbeat. It felt like being inside a cathedral built by code and dreamers.
HIME floated ahead, scanning systems with her usual precision. "Maintenance levels stable. Sustainability output at 94%. All defensive protocols online."
"Good," I said. "We'll need everything running smooth for the next phase."
Enra raised an eyebrow. "Next phase?"
I smiled faintly. "Let's just say the world's about to get… more complicated. And I want us ready when it does."
She stared at me for a long moment, then sighed. "You're never satisfied with normal, are you?"
"Where's the fun in normal?" I said, tapping my hat down with a grin.
She laughed quietly. "You're impossible, Trave."
"Yeah," I said softly. "But at least I'm consistent."
---
Later, when everyone was gone and the base was quiet, I stood alone in the central chamber—the heart of Aeternum Sanctum.
I raised my hand. The silver chains rippled across my fingers, responding to my will.
They glowed faintly, whispering against the air, alive with power.
I remembered what the developer had told me: not to dominate, but to balance.
Maybe that's what I'd been trying to do all along—not just in battle, but in everything. To find balance between illusion and truth, between secrecy and trust.
For years, I'd hidden my real self behind masks—avatars, jokes, half-truths. But now, surrounded by people who'd seen my true face and still stayed, I realized something simple.
Maybe the real illusion wasn't the one I cast on others.
Maybe it was the one I cast on myself.
The thought made me smile.
Or maybe that was just the mask doing it for me.
Either way, it felt right.
---
As I turned to leave, HIME's voice followed me softly through the glowing halls.
> "Ren-sama. May I say something?"
"Sure."
> "Your guild… they seem to accept you, even after learning your true nature."
"Yeah," I said quietly. "They did."
> "How does that make you feel?"
I looked down at my hands—the faint glimmer of chains between my fingers, the soft pulse of the orb hanging from my belt.
"It makes me think," I said slowly, "that maybe being seen isn't such a bad thing after all."
> "Acknowledged," HIME said softly. "I am… glad."
"Me too, HIME," I said, smiling beneath the painted grin. "Me too."
---
That night, the halls of Aeternum Sanctum glowed brighter than usual.
Somewhere deep within the system, I could almost swear the world itself was smiling back.
---
End of Chapter 21 – The Smiling Mask