The scale of the conflict was staggering. Over a million Novice Zones—nearly half of Azura’s total—were being sucked into the vacuum of the struggle for The Unclaimed Wastes. Excluding the casualties of the Novice Trial and those content to watch from the sidelines, over a billion players were mobilized for war.
Across the realm, twenty thousand instances of the Banner War: The Proving Grounds flickered into existence. Novice Zone 911 was just one of many, yet it stood at the apex of the chaos. Their battlefield wasn't just contesting the ten SSS-Tier Unclaimed Wastes Calder had staked his claim on; it involved fifty high-quality territories in total, ranging from S-Tier upward.
It was a treasure trove of apex resources, and that meant the competition was a collection of the world's most dangerous predators.
Back in the classroom of Novice Zone 911, players crowded around the livestream, their faces pale as the chat feed scrolled at a blinding speed.
"4056 is unstoppable! Ellis is a god!"
"Ellis? That A-Tier trash? Don't insult Lord Sam. S-Tier or stay home."
"S-Tier? We’ve got two of them in our zone. You want to dance?"
"Keep barking. Our leader is SS-Tier. Your S-rank icons are just appetizers."
"Bold talk. We might not have an SS, but we have thirty A-Tiers. I’d love to see how your 'god' handles a mob."
The students of Zone 911 stared at the screen, paralyzed by the sheer disparity of power being boasted. The bravado they’d felt days ago, the dreams of conquering the world, had withered into dust.
"Can... can Calder actually pull this off?" someone whispered, the voice cracking with genuine fear.
Despite Calder’s coldness and his borderline-tyrannical "loan" system, he was the only thing standing between them and total irrelevance. If he fell, Zone 911 fell with him. Ray and Caden sat in silence, their eyes glued to the screen. They didn't care about the SSS-Tier lands anymore; they just wanted Calder to survive. They needed a king, even an indifferent one, to keep the vultures away from their home.
Don’t die, Calder, Ray thought, his fists clenched.
The world shifted.
Calder opened his eyes to the smell of salt and the sound of crashing waves. He stood on an island, the ground firm beneath his boots. At the center of the isle stood a flagpole, the banner of Novice Zone 911 fluttering in the wind.
The rules were simple but brutal: To claim an Unclaimed Waste, you had to stake your own territory. If your flag was taken, your home zone was swallowed by the victor. You became a subject, a second-class citizen in someone else’s empire. Zone 911 was a B-Tier resource zone—unremarkable, but it was all they had.
Calder ignored the flag for a moment, pulling up the system map. Fifty Unclaimed Wastes were marked—deep crimson for the SSS-Tier lands, fading to light red for the S-Tiers. Spread across the archipelago were the starting positions of over two hundred participating Novice Zones.
"Where to start..." Calder murmured, his fingers tracing the glowing lines of the map. He wasn't looking for a place to hide; he was looking for the most efficient path to slaughter.
On a distant island, a towering, muscular man stood atop a ridge, stark naked and grinning at the sun. He shouldered a massive banner as his followers roared behind him.
"Ellis is invincible!" they chanted.
Ellis scratched his crotch, his eyes roaming the horizon with predatory hunger. He reached into the air, and a three-meter-long Trident of the Tidegod materialized in his grip. The metal hummed with the power of the deep.
"An island map?" Ellis threw back his head and laughed, a booming sound that drowned out the surf. "The gods are on my side today." He swept the trident toward the surrounding isles. "All of it. It’s all mine!"
Elsewhere, on a jagged mountain peak, a woman with waist-length silver hair watched the mist. She held a magic staff that looked more like a heavy spear, her eyes like chips of frozen sea.
"Miss Nina," a subordinate whispered, "there are too many high-rankers. Should we wait and observe?"
"The water is everywhere," Nina said, her voice a glacial rasp. "The advantage is ours. We do not wait. We strike."
"But—"
"Idiot!" Nina snapped, turning her cold gaze on him. "This isn't a game; it's the start of the Third World War. If a small nation like ours doesn't seize this momentum, we’ll be erased when the world is carved up. I am the only SS-Tier in The Aetherrime Sovereignty. If I retreat now, we lose forever."
The subordinate flinched, silenced. The fire of ambition began to burn in the eyes of the others. This was the final redistribution of human power. There were no more borders, only those strong enough to draw new ones.
Deep in a jungle island, a curse tore through the humidity.
"Fck! Why this map?"
Edward stood in the shadows of the canopy, his black robes swallowing the light. Beneath his hood, crimson eyes glowed, and metallic fangs caught the stray glints of the sun.
"Lord Edward," a player stammered, "perhaps we should wait for nightfall?"
Edward’s hand blurred. He snatched the man by the throat, pulling him close. Without a word, he tore into the man's neck. The sound of Devour—the wet, rhythmic gulping of blood—filled the clearing. The other players froze, sweat turning to ice on their skin.
Edward tossed the shriveled corpse aside and wiped his stained lips. "Wait for sunset? By then, the map will be decided. There will be nothing left but scraps." He glared at the survivors. "When the bridge drops, kill everyone. If it breathes, it's a target."
The system clock hit zero.
[DING! The Banner War has officially commenced! Claim your glory!]
The ocean groaned. Between the hundreds of isolated islands, shimmering rainbow bridges—the Proving Grounds' celestial walkways—snapped into existence. They linked the archipelago into a giant, interconnected web.
In an instant, the bridges were swarming. The densest crowds surged toward the central SSS-Tier zones, but several mobs turned their sights toward the smaller islands, hoping to eliminate the weak early.
A small army began charging toward Island 911.
"Finally," Calder said. He stepped forward, and as he moved, the flag at the center of the island vanished, tucked into his personal inventory.
In the livestream, the global audience erupted in mockery.
"Look at this clown. Is he alone? Did the rest of his zone quit?"
"Suicidal. Even if he’s a Tier 1, he’s going to get buried by numbers."
"Zone 911? Never heard of them. Just another speedbump on the way to the real fight."
"He’s carrying the flag on his person? If he dies, his whole zone is deleted in ten minutes. What a moron."
Back in the classroom, Ray sneered at the chat. "We'll see who the morons are."
He knew Calder’s strength better than anyone. Before the class change, Calder was a monster. Now? He was something else entirely.
On the bridge, the first wave reached the threshold of Island 911.
"Flash Burst!" a Tier 1 Mage yelled, leading the charge. A blinding sphere of light detonated in front of Calder.
"Frost Orb!"
"Wellspring!"
"Rapid Shot!"
A barrage of spells and arrows followed, a concentrated volley meant to turn a single player into red mist. The attackers grinned, expecting an easy kill.
The grin died.
Calder moved with sickening fluidity, his body swaying through the gaps in the projectiles. He didn't even bother dodging the smaller Frost Orbs; they shattered against his skin without leaving a mark. His physical defense was already beyond their ability to pierce.
"He's a tank! Surround him!" the leader shouted.
Calder’s eyes were flat, devoid of heat. "Aberrant Shift."
Six heavy, jagged chains erupted from his forearms, ending in wicked, bladed scourges. Ray and Caden winced at the screen—they remembered that sight all too well.
The slaughter was instantaneous.
The Chain Scourges danced like living snakes, driven by a speed the Tier 1 players couldn't even track. Hooks buried themselves in chests, punched through temples, and snapped spines. One strike, one kill.
Calder stepped forward, a whirlwind of steel and blood. He moved through the crowd like a reaper through wheat.
[DING! You have slain Player: York!]
[DING! You have slain Player: Antoine!]
[DING! You have slain Player: Maren!]
In less than ten minutes, the bridge to Island 911 was no longer a walkway—it was a charnel house. A literal wall of corpses blocked the path, over a hundred players slaughtered in a display of brutal efficiency. The survivors turned to flee, but the chains reached out, dragging them back into the meat grinder.
The classroom was silent. Ray rubbed his neck, feeling a phantom ache.
However, Calder’s carnage was just one drop in a bloody ocean. Across the map, the "Gods" were making their moves.
In the distance, the naked giant Ellis didn't use the bridges. He stood atop a massive, conjured tidal wave, his trident raised to the sky. He slammed the wave into a bridge crowded with thousands of players. The rainbow light was drowned in blue and white foam. When the water receded, hundreds were dead, and thousands more were broken and drowning.
The monsters had arrived. And the world was about to break.