Black Cage Fortress-Star Gate.
Dilapidated buildings crowded tightly together, with barely any space between them. Many places never saw sunlight all year round, and darkness and damp permeated every corner.
At that moment, many Chaos Faction Players living in Black Cage Fortress craned their necks toward the light well, their faces eager for a spectacle.
The time had passed, yet not one of those "three thousand warriors" had returned.
The light well stood empty, as silent as a graveyard.
People dying inside a Star Gate was nothing unusual.
But three thousand dying at once, without a single survivor-that seemed unprecedented.
Now this was a spectacle worth watching.
In a room on one of the lower floors, a middle-aged man smoked, looking astonished. "Holy shit, not a single one came back?"
"Heh, how many have ever returned from war?" His fat neighbor next door had a line of poetry ready.
"Interesting." The middle-aged man stole a glance at the Landlord atop Cloud Summit and gloated, "I heard he invested a lot of Star Source this time, no less than he spent on the last contest. Hey, look at his face. Doesn't he look like his mom just died?"
"Nope." The fat neighbor shook his head.
"...He doesn't?"
"Looks like his whole family died, starting with his great-grandpa," the fat man said succinctly.
"Hahaha."
The two exchanged a look, sharing their glee at his misfortune.
Life here was far too stressful. Star Source did all the talking, and you had to fight for everything yourself. No matter how pitiful you were or how hard you had it, nobody sympathized. If you couldn't pay the rent, you were evicted immediately. Whether you ultimately died outside or inside a Star Gate, nobody cared.
For Chaos Faction Players from the bottom rungs of society, this