The news hit like a pulse through the VR networks. Alerts and notifications erupted across every feed, every server, every public hub—GAIA Esports was back. Well, technically, GAIA Legacy now. The guild's lotus emblem shimmered across city skylines, holographic billboards, and tournament lobbies, fractals of silver and light spinning like data auroras. Even the global tournament servers buzzed with chatter—players speculating, strategizing, and betting on how the Legendary Vanguard of Pacifica would reshape the meta, despite the fact that the continental leader had just put a bounty on his head.
Drumstickkk stood near a towering holographic display in Neo Manila's Eton Centris, a warm cup of coffee in hand. Neon reflections bounced off his eyes, painting streaks of blue and violet across the hardened lines of his face. Trace leaned against a nearby pillar, arms crossed, eyes flicking over the live feeds like a predator scanning for threats.
"Old man," Trace murmured, nodding toward the display, "you really broke the internet this time."
Drumstickkk smirked faintly, tilting his head. "We didn't break it, Trace. We reminded it that some legacies never die."
Trace laughed softly, shaking his head. "Yeah, yeah… until Neo Singapore proves otherwise. You did technically die there."
Drumstickkk made a face at him. "Died? I saved your ass back there young man." He took a slow sip of coffee, the steam curling up into the neon glow, reflecting in his eyes like a halo of smoke.
Across the globe, the feeds flickered with activity. One by one, their avatars appeared, logging in under the mirrored lotus emblem. Kairos, poised and calculated as ever; Irisia, steady and precise; Grit, towering and loud, his shield glinting with every movement; Mistblade, silent but menacing, a shadow cutting through the chaos. Every motion, every stance radiated discipline, purpose, and the familiar energy of the old guild—but reborn.
Trace leaned closer, eyes narrowing. "Look at these reactions. Player counts are spiking in every continental hub. Every guild with an eye on Pacifica knows who the Vanguard is now."
Drumstickkk let out a low chuckle, eyes narrowing as he watched the global chatter explode. "Good. Let them watch. Let them remember."
Trace raised an eyebrow. "Remember what?"
"That I prefer the old meta," Drumstickkk said, voice low, almost a growl. "We survive by doing what everyone else forgets—what they think they can't survive."
A group of younger players crowded around a nearby street hologram, murmuring in awe as the lotus emblem spun above their heads. "Is that… GAIA Legacy?" one whispered. "Drumstickkk's back?"
Drumstickkk's lips curved faintly. He raised his cup slightly in acknowledgment.
Trace glanced at him, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Old man… you've got them rattled already. I think we just made every PK guild in Pacifica lose a little sleep tonight."
Drumstickkk's gaze swept the city skyline, neon reflecting like battle lines on glass and steel. "Let them lose sleep," he said. "We've got bigger things to worry about than who's watching us. Legacy doesn't wait for permission."
And for the first time in a long while, Drumstickkk felt the weight shift—not just the burden of survival, but the thrill of a challenge worth facing. The digital storm had arrived. And they were ready.
Meanwhile, somewhere else in Neo Manila, Jin stood alone in a dimly lit practice range. The room stretched out like a metallic cavern—walls lined with shifting neon grids, air thick with the scent of ozone and spent casings. The only sound was the rhythmic crack of bullets slicing through holographic dummies, each impact ringing through the empty space like gunfire inside a cathedral.
The recoil thudded against Jin's shoulder—steady, precise, almost surgical. The muzzle flash flared across his field of vision, momentarily illuminating the sharp angles of his face. His HUD pulsed faintly, reflecting in his eyes as a cold, pale glow.
He wasn't watching the targets. He wasn't listening to the bullet impacts. He didn't even blink when a holographic enemy exploded into shards of blue light.
No.
His eyes were locked on a floating leaderboard window hovering beside him, updated in real time. In the leaderboards—unchallenged, unshaken—one name glowed with a golden frame reserved for Awakened Classes.
Drumstickkk – Legendary Vanguard
Jin exhaled sharply through his nose.
He didn't care about the guild revival. He didn't care about the hype. He didn't care about the global cheers or the nostalgic wave of admiration sweeping every forum.
All he cared about was that one name—haunting every feed, every conversation players made about Drumstickkk.
"Drumstickkk…" Jin muttered, fingers tightening around his rifle until his knuckles went bone-white. "Always two steps ahead. Always the impossible benchmark."
He fired again—three rounds, rapid. The bullets tore holes cleanly through the upper torso of another dummy before the system registered a perfect kill. Jin didn't even watch it fade.
He slammed the empty rifle down onto the weapon stand. The metallic clang reverberated through the training hall, followed by the slow hum of shifting holograms resetting.
Jaw clenched, he paced across the range—every step sharp, controlled, almost predatory. His thoughts replayed every humiliation, every moment that gnawed at him:
The dungeon Drumstickkk cleared. The legend that refused to stay silent, both in game and in reputation.
Jin's breathing quickened—not out of fear, but out of pressure. A pressure that coiled around his ribs like a tightening wire.
He wasn't inspired. He wasn't motivated. He was cornered—with his back against the wall of another man's legend.
He stopped walking.
"No hype," he whispered, voice low and trembling with something dangerously close to rage. "I don't ride anyone else's shadow."
He holstered his rifle and reached for the cold metal of his sidearm. The pistol clicked into his palm with the familiarity of a blade sliding into its scabbard.
"If he's the legend…" Jin's eyes sharpened, narrowing into a hunter's focus. "…then I'll break him with my own style."
He raised the pistol in a blur, firing at the nearest dummy.
The hologram didn't just break—it detonated into a shower of blue shards, scattering like falling glass.
Jin didn't look away.
He smiled.
A small, sharp, dangerous smile.
Back at the café, the neon-lit hum of VR Starbucks wrapped around the group like a digital cocoon. Screens flickered. Steam machines hissed. Players whispered from nearby tables, stealing glances at the man whose return had shaken four continents in a single night.
Trace nudged Drumstickkk with a jittery elbow.
"They're talking about it everywhere, old man. Leaderboards, streams, global forums… GAIA Legacy is trending in, like, four continents already. Even Arctica's icy gremlins are awake."
Drumstickkk didn't answer immediately.
He simply swirled the latte in his hand—its surface catching the rotating neon reflections from the ceiling. The soft glow illuminated the hardened look in his eyes. The barista pretended to clean the counter, but her gaze lingered, curious, maybe even worried.
"Let them talk," Drumstickkk said quietly. "Let them wonder. Legends aren't made by attention—they're made by action. By surviving when everything's stacked against you."
Trace raised a brow. "You say that like you're not the one with a world-class bounty on your head."
Drumstickkk's jaw tightened.
"Because I didn't revive GAIA Legacy for fame. I built this guild to return to the esports scene… to gain access to where Meihua's signal originated." His fist tightened around the cup. "I'm going to find out what happened to my fiancée. No matter what."
Before Trace could respond, the holographic feed above them flickered violently—drawing everyone's eyes upward.
A global front-page bulletin slammed into view with a crack of digital thunder:
"GAIA LEGACY RETURNS: LEGENDARY VANGUARD RESURFACES!"
"EDDIE 'DRUMSTICKKK' CRUZ REUNITES GAIA—GLOBAL WAR BREWING?"
"FIRST AWAKENED CLASS DUO TRIGGERS ALERT—CONTINENTAL BOUNTIES ISSUED!"
Several nearby players stood from their tables, murmuring.
"Is that really him—?"
"Drumstickkk's back?"
"A Legendary Vanguard AND a Cipher? Someone's getting hunted tonight."
Trace whistled softly, folding his arms.
"Continental bounties, huh? That's… yeah, that's not gonna be ignored. PK guilds will treat it like the season's main event."
A tremor of excitement—fear, maybe—passed through the café.
Drumstickkk leaned forward, the amber glow of his interface painting sharp lines across his features. His avatar's eyes reflected determination so intense it bordered on dangerous.
"Then we make them irrelevant," he said. "One mission, one dungeon, one strike at a time."
The neon lights dimmed slightly as if the city itself was listening.
"GAIA Legacy isn't a name," he continued. "It's a statement. A promise."
Trace watched him, a slow grin forming despite the danger.
"A promise to who?"
Drumstickkk raised his gaze—straight, cold, unwavering.
"To the world," he said. "That the old meta didn't die."
He stood, the mirrored lotus emblem on his coat catching the café's light in a radiant flare.
"It simply evolved."
-------------------
Back where Jin stood, the air in the practice range vibrated with the hum of hard-light generators and the faint metallic smell of simulated gunpowder. Neon strips pulsed along the walls, casting long shadows that clung to his boots like ghosts.
He clenched his teeth.
On his HUD, global feeds scrolled past in an overwhelming rush—
GAIA Legacy's new lotus emblem,
Drumstickkk's profile,
old tournament clips resurfacing,
leaderboards lighting up,
commentators screaming predictions about the "Legendary Vanguard's Return."
Every headline felt like a stab.
There he is again… even when he's not here, he's everywhere.
Jin's jaw tightened until it hurt. His grip on the rifle trembled—not with fear, but with a frustration that simmered close to rage.
He stepped forward and drove his fist into the training dummy.
Once.
Twice.
A third blow cracked the dummy's hologram field, the sound exploding through the empty chamber like thunder.
"They don't need hype," he muttered, breath sharp and uneven. "I don't care about hype."
He slammed the rifle into place, snapped the bolt, and unloaded into the target with savage precision. Each shot punctuated a word:
"I." Bang.
"Don't." Bang.
"Care." Bang.
"About." Bang.
"History." BANG.
The target disintegrated into glowing fragments, but Jin didn't stop. He reloaded mid-spin and fired again at new targets mid-materialization. His movements were clean, surgical—yet fueled by something raw and burning.
Sweat dripped down his avatar's jaw, catching the neon glints of the firing range.
"I'll carve my own path," he whispered, voice cold and steady now. "I'll make my own meta."
He holstered the rifle, drew his pistol, and in a blur of motion dropped three drones that zipped into the room—shooting them down before they even unfolded their weapons.
The last drone fell, sparks scattering like fireflies.
Jin stood still at the center of the smoking range, chest rising and falling slowly.
"I'll break the legend myself…"
His pulse synced with the rhythmic hum of the reload chamber—like a war drum building toward a storm. The neon lights flickered, casting his silhouette across the entire room. He didn't smile. He didn't waver.
The world might be cheering for Drumstickkk.
GAIA Legacy might be reclaiming the spotlight.
Every streamer, every analyst, every guild might worship the legend's return.
But Jin—
Jin refused to be another fan in the crowd.
He would not watch from the sidelines.
Not anymore.
Not ever.
He lifted his weapon, eyes sharp as razors.
"You prefer the old meta?" he said softly, dangerously, "then I'd prefer my own meta!"