The Quest Is Simply To NTR All The Heroes

"Wait, what?!"

Kayden's eyes widened, mirroring Kaisen's shock. For once, the cool and composed Kayden was caught off guard.

Of course, he knew who the Light Bearers were—everybody with half a brain and a pulse did. After all, when 800 million people up and vanish like a magician's assistant in a dodgy trick, the world takes notice.

The game lore had been the stuff of legends, whispered in hushed tones like ancient prophecies.

But then, like a paranoid conspiracy theorist's worst nightmare, all traces of the game—websites, guides, walkthroughs—were scrubbed from the internet, as if the universe itself decided to hit the delete button.

But humanity, being the stubbornly curious species it is, found ways to keep the tales alive. Stories passed down from players to friends and family circulated like urban legends.

And those lucky few who still owned the VR headsets but hadn't logged in on the fateful day? They became instant millionaires, selling their devices for absurd amounts of credits to people desperate to understand what had happened.

It was like owning a golden ticket to Willy Wonka's factory, except instead of chocolate, this ticket led to the possibility of brain-melting mysteries.

But the joke was on the buyers. These overpriced relics were about as useful as a chocolate teapot.

The VR headsets wouldn't even boot up, let alone offer a glimpse into the world that had swallowed millions.

The new owners were left laughing—though whether it was from disbelief or the kind of hysterical madness that sets in after realizing you've been swindled, no one could really say.

"As in the game's Light Bearer? Like the chosen hero?"

Kayden asked, his hand landing on Kaisen's shoulder like a vulture finding a fresh carcass. Kaisen, just as flabbergasted, felt his mind spiraling into a whirlwind of disbelief.

Here he was, the guy who had actually lived in that world, but somehow Kayden was the one acting like a kid who'd just found out Santa was real and living next door.

It was only a few hours ago that Aveline had dropped the bombshell about Eldric Sunblade still being alive after 15,000 years.

Kaisen had been wracking his brain on how to track down this mythical figure, get him to spill his ancient secrets, and maybe learn a thing or two.

Aveline had filled his head with tales of the Eclipse forces and the looming threat of the Umbral Sovereign, making it sound like the plot of a B-movie that somehow got greenlit.

But now, it seemed the legendary hero was hiding out in this world, probably sipping coffee and reading the morning news like a regular Joe.

'But wait a second.'

Kaisen thought, the gears in his head grinding against each other.

'Someone could be pulling a fast one. Impersonating him, maybe. But—hold on—someone handed Kayden a magical sword, custom-made for this world? Seriously? Somebody crossed dimensions, defied the laws of reality, just to deliver a weapon to a blockhead like Kayden? Why?'

The question bounced around in Kaisen's brain like a rogue ping-pong ball in a too-small room. Why Kayden? Why not someone more… qualified? Why this sword? Why now?

The "why's" kept piling up, each one more confusing than the last, until his brain felt like it was trying to solve a Rubik's cube blindfolded.

"Kaisen! Is it the same guy from the game? The Light Bearer?"

Kayden shook Kaisen's shoulder like he was trying to rattle the answer out of him. Kaisen snapped out of his daze, blinking as if he'd just been pulled out of a daydream about endless loot drops.

"Yeah, there's a chance," Kaisen muttered, nodding slowly as if his brain was still lagging behind.

"But the dude's supposed to be, like, 15,000 years old. I only just heard he's still kicking a few hours ago, so…"

He trailed off again, his mind wandering back into the labyrinth of "what ifs" and "how the hells."

Meanwhile, Kayden was eyeing the sword like it was the holy grail, holding it up as if expecting it to start glowing or burst into a chorus of angelic voices.

"So, where's the guy now? What happened to him?"

Kaisen finally asked, trying to piece together the puzzle with about as much success as someone trying to assemble IKEA furniture without the manual.

"Don't know," Kayden shrugged, still staring at the sword with that same mix of awe and confusion.

"He just kinda… walked away after handing me this sword. Should've been a red flag when I found him in a prison cell. I mean, come on, it's the Authority—we're talking about the folks who'd rather microwave you on the spot than give you three square meals in a cell.

"Unless, of course, you're the other half of the population, in which case they'll roll out the red carpet and maybe even offer you a mint on your pillow."

Kayden was ranting about the rich folks, and, annoyingly, every word rang true. Kaisen knew the score all too well. If you were poor, the Authority would swoop in like vultures at a carcass.

Commit a serious crime? You're dead meat. A petty crime like robbery or pickpocketing? Expect a beating so thorough that you'd be counting stars for days.

That was justice in the lower cities—a brutal, no-nonsense approach that didn't waste time on courts or prison cells.

Why bother with trials when you could just dish out street justice and save some Credits?

But if you were rich, oh, that was a different story.

Suddenly, the same officers who'd pulverize a poor man into the pavement would put on their best manners. You'd get a fair trial, a cozy cell with room service, and maybe even a pillow mint if you played your cards right.

And if you were rich and happened to kill someone poor? The Authority would do their best impression of a blindfolded referee, whistling in the wind and turning a convenient blind eye.

As Kayden rambled on, Kaisen's thoughts started spinning faster than a casino slot machine.

'So, this wasn't just some random coincidence, huh? That guy in the cell must've known Kayden would show up… could it be connected to me somehow? Nah, that's a stretch. But I should still hear out whatever wild theory Kayden's about to drop.'

"So if you've got everything here under control, why drag me into your circus? I don't have any of my game powers here, no magic sword, no secret weapon that turns the tide. So, what exactly do you need me for?"

Kaisen asked, cutting straight through the fluff like a hot knife through butter. The plot was thickening faster than a pot of overcooked oatmeal, and Kaisen had no appetite for whatever stew was being cooked up.

But deep down, he knew he was going to be dragged into this mess, kicking and screaming or not.

Kayden laid a hand on Kaisen's shoulder, a gesture that was starting to feel more like a weight than a comfort.

"Robots and Synths? They quiver in their metal boots around me. They're as useful as a snowman in a heatwave the moment they get close. Even the machinery in humans turns into dead weight. It's just flesh and bone against flesh and bone, and guess who's on top? That's how I became the Emperor of this world."

He declared, his chest puffed out with pride.

This also meant, Kaisen mused, that if he really wanted to, he could probably topple this self-proclaimed Emperor like a house of cards.

But why bother? Kaisen had no desire to swap the throne for his hammock.

He'd rather be on a beach somewhere, with his women catering to his every whim, living the life of a man who knew his priorities: relaxation, good company, and a drink in hand.

"And... what exactly do you need me for?"

Kaisen repeated, his tone as dry as the desert sands. Kayden's smile widened, the kind of grin that promised nothing but trouble.

"You, my little brother, is going to…"