Echoes of a Crafted World

It had been several days since Elion's duel with Greg—and since Player Nèvalis postponed Greg's punishment. Though the tension still lingered, life in the floating base had settled into a rhythm.

Cain stood in the training ground, flames dancing in his palms. With a grunt, he hurled a fireball into a wooden dummy. It exploded into ash—but seconds later, the dummy reassembled itself, glowing faintly.

"Damn, this is boring," Cain groaned, stretching his arms. "It's been forever since I tasted actual food. I feel like I'm dead inside."

"You're not wrong," Lance added, idly stabbing a training dummy with his rapier. "What's the point of surviving if we can't eat something delicious? I'd kill for a bite of roast duck or even street food right now."

"I want booze," Thorne muttered, swinging his axe through the air like a lumberjack deprived of his forest. "A drink. Just one. I miss the burn."

The complaints echoed through the training field. Even Mira, who usually stayed quiet during these talks, sighed in agreement. "Something warm… something sweet. I haven't thought about food in weeks, and now it's all I can think about."

Elion, sitting by the fountain at the edge of the courtyard, watched them silently. He stirred the glowing water with his fingers.

"It's been… three weeks?" he whispered to himself. "Since I came here. No food—just recovery, like clockwork. I didn't even notice until now. Was I that focused on surviving?"

Then, without warning, the sky above darkened into a deep violet hue. The clouds curled and shifted like ink in water. Then the light broke.

A colossal silhouette emerged, high above the floating island.

[ GOD HAS ARRIVED ]

[ Player Nèvalis has Logged In ]

The group looked up as Nèvalis's shadow clicked something in the sky's translucent interface.

[ Would you like to upgrade your base? ]

> Yes

The world shook.

Glowing circuits ran through the ground like veins. Structures expanded with rumbling power—stone shifting, wood assembling itself midair. The entire island base began to change.

The town hall grew taller, its banners shifting into new colors.

The training grounds widened, now including steel weapon racks, elemental barriers, and a central stone-paved arena for sparring.

Off to one side, a restaurant appeared—its wooden sign gleaming with the word "Hearthborn" in gold. The building shimmered with soft magical light, tables already set inside.

The rest house grew too, transforming into a multi-level inn complete with private quarters.

"Damn," Lance said, blinking. "Did the master just listen to us complaining?"

"This base… it evolved," Mira said, stepping toward the restaurant in awe. "Wait. A restaurant? We've got chefs now?"

Thorne whistled. "About time. But who's gonna cook?"

Almost as if answering, a glowing portal opened at the north end of the island.

[ Would you like to summon Gacha Characters? ]

> Yes

Light poured out, and silhouettes emerged. Dozens—then hundreds. Men and women of all types and sizes appeared, some confused, some scared, all completely unarmed and unranked.

"What the hell just happened?"

"I was just walking home—and now I'm here?"

"Where are we?!"

The new arrivals looked around, frightened and disoriented. Their clothes were simple, most of them barefoot. None of them had weapons or the glowing status screens Cain's party carried.

Elion narrowed his eyes. "They're... clueless."

"Just like we were," Mira said quietly.

"No," Cain replied, folding his arms. "They're worse. They don't even recognize the system."

From above, dark wings spread across the sky. The black fairy descended, her expression as bored as ever.

"Welcome, newly summoned. You are the support cast. You are not heroes. You are not warriors."

Murmurs of confusion turned to whispers of anger.

"Your duties will be non-combatant," the fairy continued. "Chefs, cleaners, medics, assistants, etc. Your presence is for the convenience of the Player. Obey, and you will live comfortably. Disobey…"

She didn't finish.

A large man—clearly a former soldier—stormed to the front.

"This is bullshit!" he roared, unsheathing a sword that shimmered into his hand. "You want me to serve those brats? Those people?!"

He pointed toward Cain's party.

"You little bitch," he spat, lunging toward the fairy. "I'll—"

BOOM.

The man exploded into particles mid-air.

The newcomers gasped in horror.

Cain sighed. "Attacking someone you don't even know, is stupidity."

"That's how the system works," Lance added, leaning against a pillar. "Anyone summoned to support roles can't fight it. Resistance means deletion."

Whoever tries to attack the fairy, will be a goner, just like the previous people who did that, this man that appears to be a warrior, suddenly exploded.

This shocked everyone, except for the main party, "there's nothing we can do, we are summoned here to do the bidings of 'Gods'," Cain said.

While listening, Elion suddenly noticed something different, The rankless one doesn't have any idea of what's going on when they're summoned here, while the people like Cain, who is already 1-star rank, seems to understand already what's going on.

The crowd dissolved into panic—until a familiar voice cut through the noise.

"Enough."

Elion stepped forward, his armor catching the violet light of the sky. His red left eye pulsed like a flame. "I know you're scared. I was scared too. But this world has rules. Break them, and you'll vanish."

The crowd fell silent.

"You've been summoned for a purpose. That might not seem fair, but it's your reality now. You'll be safer here, fulfilling your roles, than out there in the tower. Trust me."

Some of the newcomers averted their eyes. Others nodded.

"Now get in line and follow the fairy's instructions," Elion finished. "She won't lie to you—but she won't coddle you either."

Slowly, the chaos turned into organization.

People were sorted: cooks went to the restaurant, janitors to the dorms, medics to the town hall, assistants to the training ground.

Among the group of new support staff, a young girl lingered at the edge.

She looked soft. Fragile. Her hair was shoulder-length and dark brown, her posture uncertain. She wore a white tunic that barely fit her, and clutched a small pouch to her chest.

"Umm…" she said timidly, standing before Elion. "I-I'm… assigned to you."

Elion blinked. "To me?"

She nodded. "They said I'll be your caretaker."

He looked her over. She looked nothing like a warrior. Her hands trembled just from speaking.

"I'm Amy," she whispered.

"Where are you from?" Elion asked.

"I-I don't know. I tried to say it earlier but… it's like something blocks the words. When I say the place, it comes out as… #@$—"

Just like before. Elion narrowed his eyes.

"Try not to worry," he said, softening his tone. "Just follow me, and stay safe. You're not here to fight."

"I… I don't understand any of this," Amy whispered, eyes welling up. "Everyone are scary, some know already what's going on. But I—I just woke up here…"

"You're not alone," Elion said quietly. "Most of us started just like you."

She looked up at him, and for the first time, smiled faintly.

That night, Cain's party dined at the new tavern for the first time. Roast meat, baked root vegetables, fresh bread—the food was real. The flavors were warm and comforting, and for the first time in weeks, laughter returned to the base.

Amy served Elion nervously, spilling soup once, but he didn't scold her. He simply nodded.

In the background, the newly formed second party—made from willing new warriors—marched to the tower's gate, ready to face the first floor.

The world of the crafted base was changing. Evolving.

And Elion, with Amy now by his side, felt something new brewing within him.

A feeling that he had forgotten, the soft part of his heart, once now growing.