The two of them walked away, leaving behind only the soft echoes of footsteps on the gray stone floor of the plaza.
That sound, though faint, was enough to pull Ren's mind out of his vague train of thought.
He didn't look after them right away. He just sat there, blinking slowly, as if trying to catch a fleeting piece of memory. Something... fragile and faint, yet leaving a deep imprint in his mind.
Ren furrowed his brow slightly. That familiar feeling wasn't strong, nor was it clear.
It was like stepping into a strange room, only for the light and scent to evoke some place long passed through.
'Why does that voice... sound familiar?'
He repeated the question in his head, this time like a distant echo from deep within.
There was a buried memory, an image, a face, or perhaps... a moment he had chosen to forget.
Ren slowly turned his head, gazing toward the spot where the two players had vanished into the crowd.
But now, the plaza was just an empty space, the wind sweeping through the stone steps and erasing all traces. No one was there. Only the shadows of strangers passing by one another, unfamiliar and indifferent.
Something inside him remained still. Something was stirring, slowly... as if a memory was beginning to breathe again after a long slumber. Nameless. Shapeless. But real.
Ren averted his eyes from that spot, but his heart had yet to follow. Maybe it was just an illusion. Maybe it was just a coincidence in tone or nuance. But then why did it make his chest tighten like that?
He rested his elbow on his knee, leaning forward slightly. The wind brushed past, slipping under his hood, ruffling his messy black hair, teasing a few strands as if to mock the silence pressing around him. He stayed quiet, said nothing, but his eyes had changed.
Usually, Ren didn't waver over such small matters. But this time was different. Something made him feel... unsettled.
Maybe it was that voice, the way the girl swallowed her own words, the way she quietly said, "Just this once..." as if each syllable was a shard of broken glass pressed tightly together, sharp and brittle.
And then, in a fleeting instant, Ren felt as if he were seeing something reflected from the past, reflected from the choices he once believed were right, necessary, unchangeable.
Perhaps, he himself had once spoken words like that. Or worse, had stayed silent when he should've spoken.
...
Across the plaza, the crowd began to stir. Some were standing up, others stepping down to the lower levels.
The air began to shift, no longer the scattered stillness of waiting, but the rhythm of preparation, the sign that a meeting was about to begin.
But Ren remained seated, detached from it all. Like a nameless shadow lingering on the edge of a story far larger than himself.
He didn't feel regret. But... something still ached.
And maybe, that's why he couldn't take his eyes off the space where the two had disappeared.
Only, no matter how long he stared, the answer Ren wanted would not come walking back from that path.
As the coming and going of other players slowed down, the plaza began to settle.
Footsteps grew sparse. Whispered conversations drifted like light breezes across the stands.
The sun was setting, nearly hidden behind the treetops, stretching the shadows of stone pillars to one side. The air still clung to the stuffy heat of midday, but more pressing was the tension of what was about to happen.
The meeting had begun.
There was no bell, no signal. Only a quiet shift, as Diavel stepped into the center of the plaza, the light glinting off his steel-blue armor, reflecting in the eyes watching him.
As if by unspoken agreement, the murmurs faded, replaced by focused attention. Everyone seemed to be waiting for him to speak.
Ren remained seated where he was, elbow on his knee, watching with no particular emotion. A bit... distant, a bit wary. As if he were watching a play he wasn't sure he still belonged in.
Diavel stepped forward, standing firm in the middle of the gray-stone square. He glanced around at the faces turned toward him, his gaze calm and confident, just like the first time Ren saw him in the mines.
Back then, the dim torchlight reflected off a face full of resolve, like a promise that didn't need words.
"Thank you all for being here today." His voice rang out clear and strong, each word deliberate and sure, as if every sentence had been carefully weighed in his mind.
"My name is Diavel." He paused briefly, then smiled. "As for my class..." he patted his armored chest lightly, "I'm a knight."
Laughter broke out from several directions. Not too loud, but enough to ease some of the tension in the air.
"There aren't any classes in this game!"
"Are you seriously going to cosplay?"
Diavel only smiled, offering no rebuttal. He knew that too...but the title wasn't for show. It was to inspire, to serve as a symbol.
And sure enough, it worked.
The atmosphere grew lighter. A few people loosened their grips on their sword hilts; some others exhaled softly.
"I know," he continued, his voice lowering but losing none of its sharpness, "sitting here, in a world with no way out... is not an easy decision."
"But if there is ever a moment when we truly need to stand together... that moment is now."
Silence spread, slower and heavier than before. No one laughed anymore. A few nodded slightly. Some eyes had stopped wavering.
"We've lost a month..." Diavel spoke, each word etched deep into the silent stone beneath them, "...just to find the gate leading to the first floor boss room."
There was a brief pause, then his eyes lit up with open pride. Not the kind of shameless arrogance, but the satisfaction of someone who had poured everything into the effort.
"And now, the chance is right in front of us."
He paused. Just a beat. But it was enough for the entire plaza to hold its breath.
"We will not let it slip away."
Ren frowned slightly. The words themselves weren't new, but the way Diavel said them, with a steady, deep voice, as if every syllable had been forged through experience and conviction, made them feel unusually weighty.
Firm. Resolute. And... impactful.
Diavel stepped down a stone level, drawing closer to the people in front of him, a small gesture, but one that unexpectedly brought a sense of intimacy.
No longer the image of a leader standing above, but of a brother, a comrade, walking the same path.
"I won't force anyone." His voice softened, no longer sharp, but carrying something deeply human. "If you think you're not ready... that's okay. No one has the right to judge you."
Another moment of silence passed, as if to let those words sink in deeper.
"But if you choose to stay, then make sure... you fight not just for yourself, but for everyone still trapped in this world. Because we are their last hope."
No one spoke immediately. But something had changed. A few players lowered their shoulders, letting go of tension. Others tightened their grips around their weapons. Hesitation began to give way to resolve.
Ren continued to watch quietly. Not moving. Not applauding.
He didn't need a rallying call to know what he would do... but a dull ache quietly grew stronger.
Because... the one standing at the center, was Diavel.
And behind him, were those who once stood beside Ren: Nautilus, standing firm, his gaze no longer wavering.
Yuna, still holding her lute, but glowing like light among the warriors clad in steel.
Shivata, quiet as a shadow, solid as stone. And Lind… Lind still bore that sharp, confident look, though his arrogance had faded somewhat, replaced by a colder realism.
They... were all there. On the front line.
While Ren was just a spectator, standing outside the boundary of that circle of trust.
Ren was still sitting far away. No one looked back at him.
Maybe that was reasonable.
Or maybe... it was something Ren was slowly learning to accept.
"Wait…"
A voice rang out in the plaza, cutting in just as Diavel was about to continue with the tactical plan.
The crowd stirred. A few turned their gaze to the rear.
"I have a few words to say." The speaker stepped forward slowly, steadily, neither rushed nor hesitant.
It was Kibou.
Ren glanced briefly. Not quite surprised. Not quite confused. Just a quiet thought flickering at the bottom of his eyes: 'Knew it... it was bound to happen.'
He understood Kibou's nature. Well enough to predict what he was about to do.
Kibou wasn't the type to stand behind others. But he also wasn't someone who sought the spotlight. He didn't talk much, didn't try to act like a leader, but there was a unique weight in every word, every step.
He was the kind of person... people wanted to listen to.
Ren had seen it. When the resources around the Starting Town began to be shared more equally instead of being monopolized by large groups, it hadn't been a coincidence.
It wasn't the system. It was thanks to Kibou... and a little bit of Ren...
A person like that... was truly trustworthy.
But precisely because of that, there were some things that, no matter how hard one tried, were hard to change.
Because someone like Kibou... would always step into the crowd. Would always stand with the people. And unintentionally... would always stand opposite those who stayed in the shadows.
Ren didn't blame him. He couldn't. It was just... he'd grown used to this feeling.
The feeling when your voice grows smaller in a room, when your presence fades behind the names that start to shine.
Kibou now stood in the middle of the plaza. The wind gently passed through his cactus-like hair, a silent drumbeat signaling that something was about to begin.
Diavel turned around not annoyed, just nodded slightly, as if he had expected it.