I Don't Need To Log Out

Two little boys were playing on the ground. Their identical looks made it clear they were twins.

The children had the appearance of nobles, with golden hair and bright blue eyes.

A woman with the same hair and eye color soon approached them.

"Mom, look! I made a sandcastle!" one of the boys exclaimed.

"Hey, we did it together!" the other boy protested.

"It's beautiful. I knew you two would achieve great things together," their mother said, pulling both of them into a warm hug.

Arlon wondered if he was dreaming after the events of the black space. Then, he felt like he was being sucked into somewhere.

---

Arlon woke up in an unfamiliar bed. From the vials scattered around, he guessed he was lying on a cot in the corner of the Moonlight Potion Store. The faint scent of herbs and potions lingered in the air.

His head felt unusually light, as though it had never ached before. Checking the system, he realized it had been two hours since the servers reopened.

As he tried to shake off the sense that he was forgetting something, he heard the door creak open.

"Sir Arlon, you're awake! Thank goodness! I was worried, even though Sir Charon told me not to be," said Shirl as she entered the room. "You suddenly fainted, and we had to carry you to one of the backrooms in the store."

"Miss Shirl, thank you for your concern. I'm fine. Is Sir Charon nearby?" Arlon asked, sitting up slowly.

"Yes, he is. I'll call him right away."

As Shirl left to fetch Charon, Arlon reflected on the strange events that happened after he fainted.

He had been pulled into a boundless black space, the kind of place that felt more like an endless void than a real location.

It was strange for more than one reason. First, he wasn't truly here in Trion—his physical body was inside a Zeno capsule on Earth.

The players had already logged in for the new week, and Arlon couldn't help but wonder: what would have happened if he'd needed to log out while his consciousness was trapped in that black void?

This was a completely new experience, one that hadn't occurred in his previous timeline. Still, he decided it would probably be fine.

After all, Earth and Trion existed in the same universe. His consciousness would likely return to his body if anything happened. EVR wasn't so flawed as to leave a critical issue like that unresolved.

Realizing he wouldn't find an answer even if he mulled it over all day, Arlon decided to focus on something else.

Opening the system notifications, he finally checked the alerts he hadn't had time to read before.

He had become the first player to surpass level 100, and he was hoping for a fitting reward—perhaps even another title.

---

Zephyrion was swinging his sword in steady, powerful arcs.

He was on his training ground, but there was no one in front of him.

This was quite natural, no one was strong enough to train with him, at least no one among Trionians.

Instead, he visualized an enemy, training by fighting the phantom opponent in his mind.

Trion's rulers were chosen not only by strength but also by intelligence and Zephyrion exemplified both.

Actually, this visualized training was only possible thanks to his intelligence.

For ten minutes, he slashed at the air, rolled across the ground, and moved as though locked in battle. To an outsider, it might have looked like the antics of a madman. But for Zephyrion, it was an intense, calculated exercise.

When he finally stopped, his breath came in heavy gasps.

"Here is your towel, Sir!" said a butler, appearing with a stack of towels.

"Thank you," Zephyrion replied, taking one.

Being a tiger Beastman, one towel was far from enough to dry him. His imposing figure, with its sharp features and massive frame, often intimidated those meeting him for the first time.

His piercing eyes seemed to stare straight into the soul of anyone who dared meet his gaze, and his sharp canines were visible even when his mouth was closed.

Yet despite his formidable appearance and love for combat, Zephyrion was calm and measured. He was no mere brute; he was intelligent, with a mind honed as sharply as his blade.

After finishing his physical training, he headed for the library to exercise his intellect.

After a shower, he donned his reading glasses—a sight that often amused others, though he avoided wearing them in company. The scar above his right brow seemed far less menacing with the glasses perched there.

Sitting at a desk, he opened a book about swordsmanship and magic. Yet as he read, his thoughts wandered to a pressing issue: the traitors of Trion.

He understood their plight. Most had betrayed their people not out of malice but because the Keldars had threatened their families and loved ones.

A total of 57 suspects had been arrested in connection with the Keldars' monster-raising operation. Zephyrion couldn't simply pardon them outright—doing so would undermine the authority of the government and set a dangerous precedent.

But punishing them without considering their circumstances felt equally unjust.

The real tragedy lay in the fate of their families, who, despite being used as leverage, had already been killed by the Keldars.

One of his advisors suggested publicly announcing the deaths of those families. The reasoning was simple: if people knew their loved ones would be killed regardless, they might resist the Keldars' threats.

Zephyrion, however, rejected the idea.

First, such an announcement would demoralize the Trionians, casting a shadow over the government's ability to protect its citizens.

Second, it would undermine trust in the government, painting them as powerless to safeguard their people.

Finally, it risked playing into the Keldars' hands, giving them ammunition to spread propaganda and sow further discord.

For now, Zephyrion decided to set this problem aside and focus on the immediate issues: the upcoming tournament and the Keldar threat in Istarra.

He felt a deep unease about leaving such a significant matter unresolved but knew he needed more time to find a solution.

For now, the best course was to strengthen their forces by raising an army of saviors.

---

Charon was busy tending to the steady stream of players shopping in his store.

The cramped shop was filled to the brim, as it was the only potion store in Istarra.

Although the potions the players used could be easily crafted by any alchemist, none dared to set up shop in the same town as Charon. He was, after all, the best alchemist alive.

Shirl was assisting him in the store, having nothing better to do. However, she had gone inside to check on Arlon and hadn't returned yet.

Charon's thoughts drifted to Arlon for a moment. When they first met, Arlon had been a mere level 1 warrior.

Yet, in an uncharacteristic manner for Trionians, Arlon had leveled up at a speed akin to the saviors.

There was just one problem: Arlon had arrived before the saviors. Well, not quite—he had shown up in Istarra just a day before they did.

Still, Charon was certain now. He had heard of the level 99 savior, and it all clicked into place when Arlon first walked into his store.

"I knew it!" Charon had thought to himself at that moment.

After Arlon fainted, Charon couldn't help but investigate further. He discreetly asked other players about the number one savior's level on the days Charon had seen Arlon.

He was comparing the number one savior's level progression to Arlon's—an intriguing parallel.

Charon didn't plan to reveal anything if the boy wanted to keep his secret, but he couldn't help but wonder how Arlon had managed to bypass the gods' system.

Then, Charon's thoughts turned to an old friend.

That friend was no mere mortal anymore. His strength was such that just hearing his name had been enough to make Arlon faint.

Of course, Charon suspected there was another reason for the fainting, but the memory unsettled him all the same.

Charon turned to the mirror in his store and studied his reflection.

In Trion, the blessing allowed a person to see others' levels—provided the viewer's level was higher. If the viewer was of a lower level, they would see only "???" in place of the other's level.

When looking in a mirror, Trionians could see their own level displayed above their heads.

But for Arlon, it was different. Every time he looked in the mirror, all he saw was "???" floating above his reflection.

It was no blessing, but a curse—and one crafted by Charon's old friend.

Before he could think more deeply, Shirl came in, notifying him that Arlon had woken up.

---

"You have leveled up. You gained 3 CP." This was the first notification Arlon received. It seemed Charon had essentially rewarded him with experience points for completing a quest.

NPCs granting XP as quest rewards was standard in other games, but Arlon hadn't thought it possible in Trion. After all, this was reality, not a game, and there were no actual NPCs here.

The next notification read:

"Congratulations! You are the first to reach level 100. Most of the Trionians will know your name, but all the Keldars will also know your name."

This was both a blessing and a curse. Arlon wasn't particularly concerned about fame, but being widely recognized could work to his advantage when visiting unfamiliar places in this timeline.

Before he could examine the final notification, a new one appeared, catching him off guard:

"Global Event! The player tournament will start in one week's time in Istarra."