Game of Reflections

The Alamut Fortress, built at the intersection of ancient trails and surrounded by natural barriers of sheer cliffs, has now become the scene of the greatest battle in the history of Virsal. Its massive walls, capable of withstanding a siege by hundreds of troops, now saw the approach of two irreconcilable armies. These walls, carved from dark stone and decorated with symbols of old victories, were silent witnesses to the conflict that would determine the future of the entire world. 

On the one hand, the forces of the "honest players" gathered in a huge camp located in the fertile Ashar valley. Guild flags could be seen here, proudly fluttering in the wind. The leaders at the head of their squads discussed strategies, considering how to break the forces of the donators, whose power seemed insurmountable. 

"Azerom, are you sure they won't try to get around us?" Aizen, one of the leaders of the dominant White Crows guild, asked, his voice tense but determined. He stood next to a huge map, considering every possible move. 

"They have no reason to go around," replied Azerom, a middle—aged, tall, cold-blooded pro player, the leader of the entire army of "honest" players and the head of the strongest guild on the Japanese server, the founder of the Claws guild, his gaze was fixed on the horizon. — They want to show their strength. They are not just attacking, they are coming at us with an open visor to prove that their "system" is the future. 

Alissia, the head of one of the strongest guilds in China, the Tigers of the East, leaned on a long bow with delicate carvings and added: 

"They forgot that even the best armor won't save you from getting shot in the eye. I've already counted eight weak points in their armor. 

Guild after guild was pulling up to the front line. Among them, a warrior in heavy armor with the guild symbol of the golden phoenix stood out — Dragofir, the leader of the Wings of Dawn. 

"I'm not here for fame,— his voice sounded like a thunderclap. "They took our world away from us. We will return it today. 

On the other hand, the Donater army, led by Titanos, a terrifying top 3 global ranking, was gathering at the eastern foot of the fortress. His Abyss Call suit of armor exuded a shimmering glow, each plate covered with runes that enhanced the strength of his allies. Standing next to him was Waldegrin, a two-handed blade combat master whose attacks were known for their destructive power. 

"We've been humiliated for too long," Titanos said, looking around at his men. His voice, deep and commanding, echoed through the valley. — Today we will prove that strength is everything. Do they want to resist? Let them try. We will wipe them off the face of the earth. 

"Don't forget that they are cunning," said Linteros, a master strategist. His eyes shone coldly as he pointed at the map. "They must have set traps. But we have advantages. We are a united force. Their alliance will fall apart when the chaos begins. 

Behind them, the shouts of soldiers preparing for battle rang out. The troops stood in perfectly even rows, their armor reflecting the rays of the setting sun, creating the illusion of a shining sea of steel. Each warrior has been enhanced to the limit: buffs, amulets, legendary weapons. 

The beginning of the battle 

When the first rays of the sun illuminated the Ashar Valley, both armies lined up on the battlefield. Azerom raised his hand and signaled. 

"They'll go straight ahead. No surprises, just power. We have to keep the lines! His voice was firm despite the tension. 

The voices of other leaders rang out in response.: 

— Get ready, this is our chance to show that we are stronger! Dragofir shouted. 

— For honor and freedom! Aizen added, his hands already starting to glow with magical energy. 

Titanos, seeing the enemy's preparations, raised his sword into the sky, and his army launched an offensive. Their footsteps shook the ground like an approaching storm. In front were tanks completely covered in legendary armor, followed by archers, mages, and in the very center — the elite, shining with magical auras. 

— Show them that their time has passed! Titanos shouted. 

The first blow fell on the front lines of the "honest players". Shields met the blows, and the ground shook from the explosions of spells. The archers shot arrows with such speed that it seemed as if a dark cloud was gathering over the battlefield. 

— Hold your positions! Azerom shouted, fending off a blow from an enemy warrior. His sword moved like an extension of his arm. "We'll break them!" 

Alyssia, standing on the hill, shot arrows one after another, each of which found its target. Her voice carried across the field.: 

"Left flank, they're losing ranks!" Move forward!

However, with every passing moment, it became clear that the strength of the donors was too great. Their buffs boosted attack and defense to absurd levels, and the losses of the "honest players" became more significant. 

- damn it! Aizen barely managed to block Valdegrin's lightning strike. "They're using us as training targets!" 

Titanos, watching the battlefield, smiled. 

"They're weak. Let them run. This is just the beginning. 

But Silent, who also actively participated in the battle, despite the losses, was not going to retreat. He knew that this battle would be decisive not only for their alliance, but for the entire game. 

"We will not give them this world. Follow me! Azerom's shout echoed across the field. 

The battlefield trembled from the many-headed roar of the combatants, shaking from the sound of clashing blades, explosions of magic and the onslaught of two irreconcilable armies. The sky above the Ashar Valley, tinged with smoke and the glare of spells, served as a silent reminder that this battle would change everything. 

Silent, leading the upgraded Alpha squad, cut through the enemy lines with frightening speed and precision. His swords, enchanted for speed and damage, flashed so fast that it was impossible to keep track of them. The faded Alpha symbol was still visible on his cloak, a reminder of past victories and downfalls. 

"Don't lose your position! Keep buffers in your sights, at all costs!" Silent shouted loudly, cutting down another opponent. His voice echoed through the ranks. 

He was followed by the new Alpha team — Liren, a well-aimed archer whose arrows with magical tips tore through the armor of donaters; Cayenne, a fire destroyer mage whose spells literally melted the ground under the feet of enemies; and Darrin, a two-handed swordsman who holds the most dangerous points on the field. 

- "Silent, the left ranks are breaking through! We're losing shooters!" Cayenne shouted, waving her staff, her eyes glowing as another wave of fire engulfed the nearest group of enemies. 

From the right flank, amidst the smoking ruins, a new pillar of light rose—the result of Aizen's strike. The magical explosion he produced blew up an entire enemy company. Aizen, known for his lightning spells, used every drop of his energy to maintain the pressure. However, even he began to notice how the donors easily activated their protective barriers. 

"Damn it! These barriers negate our entire attack! We need to find their sources!" He roared, clenching his fists, which were emitting blue lightning. 

Alyssia, a long-range trucker and a master tactician, led her squad of archers on the other flank. She gave commands with cold but confident clarity. Her Lexi, a crossbow hero, was known for his precision and destructive power. 

- "Focus your fire on the mages and buffers! If we knock out their support, they will crumble!" Alyssia's voice rose above the screams and noise of the battle. 

Her crossbow flashed with silver light, and one arrow, enchanted for penetration, took down three enemy mages standing on top of the hill at once. The loss of their support instantly reduced the effectiveness of the donating units in this area. 

But the triumph was short-lived. A new enemy appeared among their ranks, a warrior in golden armor that dazzled with brilliance. His sword, enchanted by fire, left a red-hot trail behind it, burning everything it touched. 

"They're being too arrogant! Show these pathetic idealists what true strength is!" The enemy roared. It was Klaytos, one of the elite Donater commanders, known for his ruthless fighting style. 

On the central flank, Titanos, the leader of the Donaters, personally led the elite. His legendary "Call of the Abyss" armor shone with darkness, and every blow of his sword knocked down dozens of opponents. 

"Is that all they're capable of? Senseless attempts to resist fate. They just don't understand that it's useless to resist," Titanos said coldly, his voice carrying through the noise of the battle. 

In response to his words, Azerom launched an attack. His sword met the blade of Titanos, and the collision caused a bright flash. 

"Do you think gold makes you stronger? It's an illusion! The real power is in our hands!" Azerom growled, pushing off and delivering another series of punches. 

Titanos just grinned, taking blow after blow. 

"You're good. But your naivety... She'll ruin you." 

At the other end of the field, Alyssia, covered by her squad, was barely holding her ground. 

- "Azerom! They're crushing us from the right flank! If we lose this line, we'll be surrounded!" she shouted, looking for the next target. 

"Hold on! We're breaking through their center, a little more time!" Azerom shouted back, deflecting another blow. 

The battle was in full swing, but the outcome was still unclear. The war of ideals has reached its peak, turning the fertile lands of Ashar into a burning field of death.

The turning point 

The third hour of battle turned the Ashar Valley into a chaotic whirlpool of fire, steel, and magic. The roar of the clashing armies subsided only for a moment to give way to more explosions and screams. But even in the midst of this meat grinder, it became obvious that the army of "honest players" was beginning to lose ground. Their ranks were thinning, and fatigue hampered their movements. 

On the front line, Azerom, bloodied but still determined, moved through the enemy lines like lightning. His swords, covered with dents and cuts, left behind the corpses of donaters. But his gaze was fixed on the front, where Titanos towered in the very center of the enemy formation, whose legendary armor, shining with gloomy darkness, inspired terror even to the most seasoned warriors. 

"This is not the time to give up! We're holding our positions until they make their way to the artifacts!" Azerom shouted, deflecting a blow from a massive warrior in studded armor. 

Gard, a new but proven member of the Talons, jumped up to him. His heavy shield sparkled from the collisions, and his breath came out of his chest with a rasp. 

- "Azerom! Our ranks on the left flank are falling apart! They'll break through us if we don't do something!" he shouted, peering into the chaos around him. 

Azerom quickly assessed the situation. The enemy was really close to encircling them. He knew that a risky attack to the rear was the only chance to turn the situation around. 

- "Guard! Take your squad and go to the hill! Try hitting them on the flank! If you succeed, push to the end!" — he ordered, nodding towards a small hill where there were still remnants of fortifications. 

- "Accepted! But you need a cover too! Titanos has already sent his men straight to you!" replied Gard, nodding to his men, who began to retreat behind their shields. 

Meanwhile, a new player appeared in the midst of the donater ranks, whose presence was felt like a cold wind before a storm. A warrior in dark armor, wearing a black mask, with the nickname Sato. Sato, silent and inconspicuous, dressed in perfectly fitted armor of the latest generation, moved like a predator. He didn't shout orders or stand out with loud actions, but there were only corpses where he passed. 

"Who the hell is this guy?! Aizen roared, watching as Sato tore through the left line of the "honest players" like a hot knife through butter. 

They tried to stop his lightning attack twice, but each time he dodged with cold precision, as if anticipating every move of Aizen. 

"I don't know, but he's damn good! You better stay away from him, he's not like the rest of the donaters!" replied Silent, parrying the attack of two enemies who attacked him from two sides. 

On the other flank, Alyssia and her squad of archers continued to hold their positions, but their forces were clearly running out. Her Lexi crossbow had already lost count of how many times it had hit the mark, but each shot now felt heavier. 

"Hold your formation until the Guard occupies the hill! If they surround us, we're dead!" she shouted, hammering another arrow into the enchanted crossbow. 

Her subordinate, a young archer named Nair, looked at her with a tremor in his voice: 

"Alyssia, what are we going to do if the reinforcements don't arrive?" 

"We're going to die. But we will die so that they will remember," she replied coldly, releasing an arrow that pierced two enemies at once. 

Amidst the chaos, Titanos watched the battle from a hill. His gaze was as cold as ice. Other donor leaders stood next to him.: 

— Arkond, a master of tactical magic whose ice spells could stop entire units; — Laetos, a necromancer who resurrects fallen enemies to fight on his side; — Veridian, a spearman with legendary weapons, whose single blow could pierce an entire wall. 

"They're desperate. It's good. Desperation makes their mistakes predictable," Titanos said, cutting off another request from the allies for support. 

—Fate is as inevitable as death," Laetos sneered, his eyes glowing with a dead light. "And if someone doesn't accept it, I'll remind them." 

Silent could feel the battle getting more desperate. His strength was falling, but he couldn't afford to stop. All their efforts were now focused on one thing: to hold out until the last. 

When the battle reached its climax, the battlefield turned into hell. The screams of the wounded, the clash of steel, the furious spells flashing in the sky — all this mixed into a chaotic symphony of horror. Silent, covered in blood, both his own and someone else's, made his way to the magicians who were preparing the final blow. Their faces were contorted with tension, and their hands were shaking with fatigue, but they didn't stop. 

"Just a little more! Hold on!" Magister Alter, who was directing the spell, shouted. His robe, once dazzling white, was now covered with dirt and burns. 

A pillar of fire, born from the power of dozens of magicians, began to gather into a giant ball, the brightness of which blinded even the enemies. It seemed that nature itself was shaking from this display of power. 

On the other side of the field, Titanos, standing on a hill, watched the action with cold mockery. His legendary "Wrath of the Abyss" armor was flickering with an ominous black light, and his team behind him was preparing for a counterattack. 

"Do they think they can turn the tide of battle with this pathetic trick?" Titanos said, his voice filled with icy contempt. "Activate the artifact." 

Next to him, Laetos, a necromancer with deathly pale skin, grinned. 

"It will be nice to see their hopes burn out in the flames of their own spell." 

Silent, being in the midst of his army, saw how the enemies were preparing for something. 

"Aizen, do you see this? They're going to do something!" "Stop it!" he shouted, making his way to his colleague. 

Aizen, who was standing on the other side of the bastion, was busy creating his defensive magic. 

"I see, but we can't do anything anymore! If the mages don't make it, we're all dead!" he replied, waving his staff to fend off the approaching squad of donaters. 

Finally, a pillar of fire shot up into the sky, splitting the darkness with its fiery flashes. The magical flame, gathered by the efforts of the best magicians, fell on the center of the donater army. The ground shook, the trees were charred, and a fierce stream of heat covered everything around. 

"This is our chance! Hold your positions!" shouted Alyssia, leading her archers forward to cover the mages.

But the Titanos did not flinch. With the artifact from his legendary set activated, he raised his hand. A black sphere appeared around him, which swallowed the flame as if it had never existed. 

"Is that all you can do?! His voice, amplified by the magic effect, reverberated throughout the field. 

The magicians, seeing their greatest spell crumble to dust, froze in horror. 

—Impossible... we put everything into this..." whispered Eltar before he was pierced by an enemy crossbow bolt. 

Silent gritted his teeth, feeling despair pressing down on his chest. 

"Damn it, they're too strong!" he shouted, trying to hold back the avalanche of enemies. 

Gard, leading his squad on the other flank, heard Azerom's order over the chat. 

"We must hold this bastion! If they break through, it will be over!" His voice was hoarse from exhaustion, but he still sounded like a commander. 

However, despite the efforts, the donors were relentless. Titanos not only withstood the blow, but also led his army into a counterattack. New donator leaders have appeared on the field: 

— Kalaen, a paladin in shining armor whose auras made his allies virtually invulnerable. — Sinistrus, the magician of illusions, whose spells confused and destroyed the ranks of opponents. — Virtos, a beastman whose speed and strength have been enhanced to the point of absurdity. 

The leaders of the "honest players" gathered at the last bastion. Aizen, covered in wounds, was barely able to stand on his feet, leaning on his staff. Alyssia fired until the last, even when her crossbow began to heat up from the constant shots. 

"We have to hold out! If they capture the fortress, we will lose everything!" she shouted, looking around at her men. 

"We've probably already lost everything," Aizen replied gloomily, fighting off the attackers. 

The Titanos, approaching the bastion, stopped for a moment to look at Azerom. 

"You fought well, but your efforts are in vain. We have revived this game. She belongs to us now." 

Azerom raised his sword, breathing heavily. 

"Your victory is today, but the war is not over. We'll be back." 

Titanos just grinned. 

- "Will you come back? To be defeated again? It's time for you to accept it, old man." 

With these words, the last bastion fell, leaving the "honest players" in ruins. 

The battle at Ashar Valley lasted almost five hours. The losses on both sides were huge, but the donors prevailed. Silent, a survivor of the battle, looked at the ruins of the valley. His sword was broken, his armor was riddled, but most importantly, his hope was destroyed. Silent was kneeling in the middle of a field littered with bodies. Thousands of dead players lay in a chaotic mess, some with a sword still clutched in their numb fingers, some with their eyes wide open in final surprise. The air was thick with the smell of ash, metal, and death. 

His hands were shaking, clutching a fragment of a former weapon—a sword that he could no longer hold as before. The silence was deafening, as if the world itself was holding its breath in the face of this tragedy. 

"It wasn't supposed to be like this,— he whispered, feeling a hollow emptiness grow inside. 

Every death is not just a lost ally, but a stab in the heart. He saw their names flashing on the screen, heard their voices until they went out. But now all that's left of them are the numbers that the game has been methodically removing from the list of participants. 

Silent gritted his teeth, feeling the pain and guilt tearing at him from the inside out. He looked up at the sky, which was dark and gloomy, as if even it had turned away from this world. 

"Why am I still here?" A voice cracked, almost a scream, addressed to someone who would never answer. 

"We didn't lose... we just retreated," he whispered to himself, but the words sounded empty. 

The world watching the battle through the screens erupted with millions of comments. There were heated debates on the forums, in which injustice and imbalance were discussed. But one thing was clear: This battle went down in the history of Versailles as a symbol of the struggle between money and honesty. 

The defeat in the Ashar Valley was a turning point not only for the "honest players", but also for the entire world of Wirsal. It wasn't just a loss—it was the destruction of hope, the last symbol of resistance. The guilds that had been considered invincible until recently were crushed. Their leaders, accustomed to fame and respect, faced a new feeling for themselves — utter despair. And with that, the faith of millions of players collapsed. 

The chat rooms were filled with complaints, and the forum topics were filled with bitterness and hatred towards the developers. "We fought as hard as we could, but it was pointless!", "This game is no longer for us", "Wirsal is now a game for the rich, not for real players!" — such messages flashed everywhere. Even the most devoted fans began to think about leaving the game, which had become their second home, but now turned out to be ruthless to their efforts. 

The game world was empty. The fields that once thundered with battles were now quiet. Guild castles stood abandoned, their halls echoing the footsteps of rare visitors. Even in the central squares, where life was always in full swing, you could only hear the whisper of the wind. 

Players have been leaving en masse for other virtual reality games. Even those projects that were considered low-quality clones of Virsal began to experience a real boom. Companies that had previously been struggling to make ends meet were now drowning in a flood of new users. Their servers, which were not designed for such an influx, broke down and overloaded, but this did not stop anyone. 

The directors of small and large companies that once tried to compete with Versailles literally celebrated every new day. They saw thousands of players joining them, and immediately started launching promotions and bonus programs to consolidate their success. 

"Welcome to the new world!" Banners read, offering unique kits for beginners. Each player received a starter kit of weapons, equipment, and resources. The developers did not skimp: free premium accounts, accelerated pumping, unique skins - all this was generously distributed to new users. 

There was unrestrained laughter at the directors' meetings. 

"It's unbelievable! Those idiots from Versailles gave us such a gift!" — one of them was saying, waving a graph with numbers that were rapidly creeping up. - "The players are coming to us as if we were the best game in the world! Even though our attack animations are still jerky!" 

- "Servers need to be expanded urgently! They can no longer withstand the influx. We can't afford to lose this flow!" — another added, looking at the blinking red numbers of connection errors. 

They even started hiring bloggers and streamers to promote their games. The popular players who had left Virsal were now becoming the faces of new worlds. Their interviews, where they criticized the "platinum system," have garnered millions of views. 

- "I was in the top 50 of the Virsal server, but there is no place for people like me anymore. Now I'm here, and believe me, this game can become your new home," said the former leader of one of the famous guilds in an advertisement for a new VR game. 

Meanwhile, the situation at the Virsal Corporation was as follows. Despite the cries of the loyal fans, the management of the corporation remained indifferent. Until one indisputable truth forced them to act: the revenue charts went down due to the massive withdrawal to other games. The company did not expect that the departure of players would be so large. The number of active players began to decrease rapidly. Those who had been building their guilds, creating legends, and immersing themselves in this virtual world for years began to leave the game en masse. It was a wake-up call that even Anderson Maestro couldn't ignore. 

Under public pressure and in an effort to retain the remnants of loyal players, the corporation announced an update. "We have heard you," the official statement said hypocritically. The platinum buffs that initially destroyed the balance have been slightly weakened. Now their influence on the course of the battle had decreased, and they no longer ensured an unconditional victory. The balance has become more or less normal. But the sediment remained. 

It's too late, Silent thought, watching this farce. None of those who left were in a hurry to return. After all, the most important thing was lost: faith in justice. 

And yet the game continued to exist. Not because of its innovative system or because of the efforts of the developers. The main reason why players clung to Virsal was a simple and bitter realization: there was no alternative, or rather there was, but these were rather cheap clones. 

The MMORPG market was a desert. The contenders for the throne who appeared from time to time quickly burned out, unable to withstand the competition. Some offered innovations, but they could not create the sense of immersion that was in Virsal. Others relied on graphics, but forgot about working out the mechanics. 

Silent knew that better than anyone. He tried to find a replacement himself, looking for the same intensity of the battles, the same sense of community that once forced him to return to the game day after day. But I haven't found anything like it anywhere. 

"We're not here because we want to be," he once told his partner. "We're here because we have no other choice." 

These words became true for thousands of players trapped in a world they no longer loved but couldn't leave. Virsal was no longer home. But he remained the last island in the ocean of hopelessness. Returning from thinking about those events, Silent, who was still sitting by the lake, logged out of the game.