Online Game: Starting With SSS-Ranked Summons-Chapter 298: Reaping what you sow

And Adam began to drown again.

And again.

And again.

Between cycles, consciousness flickered. Brief moments of clarity where he stood in the cell, body rigid, mind screaming. But these respites lasted mere seconds before the loop reclaimed him.

Then, just as the drowning became almost routine—just as his mind began to build defenses—the scene shifted.

A bedroom. His bedroom. The one he'd shared with Elise before the divorce.

'No. Not this. Anything but this.' He screamed hysterically as his mind's defenses had already become weak from the cycles.

He stood in the hallway, home early from deployment. The sounds from the bedroom were unmistakable. His footsteps silent on the carpet as he approached.

The door swung open under his hand.

Elise. Thomas. His wife. His brother.

Their expressions when they saw him—shock, horror, then something worse: pity.

"Adam..." Elise remained in position. "We didn't—you weren't supposed to be home for two more weeks."

As if that made it better.

In the real memory, he'd shot them both. Turned. Left without a word.

In Bloom's version, he couldn't move. Couldn't look away. Was forced to watch as the scene extended beyond memory into a nightmare.

"We never loved you," Elise said, her voice morphing into something inhuman. "No one has ever loved you."

Thomas laughed, the sound echoing impossibly. "You were always the weak one. Always the failure."

Their faces stretched, distorted, becoming monstrous reflections of themselves.

"Stop," Adam whispered. "Please stop."

Bloom's voice slid between the cracks of his consciousness. "But we've only just begun. So many fears to explore. So many failures to revisit."

The bedroom dissolved, fragmenting into darkness. For one blessed moment, Adam thought it might be over.

Then new images formed.

The loop played again. Different angles. New horrors. Each cycle lasted an eternity, yet somehow also condensed into moments that felt like years.

Sometimes in his nightmare, he would see Arthur watching, his expression cold.

In one such moment of clarity, Adam managed to form a coherent thought.

How long have I been here?

Bloom's crystal brightened. "Three minutes, Mr. Adam. Just three minutes."

Horror washed through him. Only three minutes? Impossible.

"Time moves differently in nightmare," Bloom explained, almost gently. "We have so much more to experience together."

I can't. Please. I'll do anything.

The invisible pollen thickened around Adam's face, pouring into him with renewed vigor.

"Now," Bloom said, "let's move on to your father. The man you could never please. Shall we enhance those memories too?"

Adam's consciousness fractured, splintering into a thousand screaming fragments as the next loop began.

Outside the cell, Arthur ascended the stone steps back to the village plaza.

Sunlight hit his face as he emerged onto the main street of Village #420. The transformation since his first days here struck him anew. What had been a humble starting zone now hummed with activity.

Players and natives mingled in the marketplace, the line between them blurring more each day. Construction crews expanded the eastern district.

Guards patrolled the area, stopping to salute as Arthur passed.

"Swordmaster!" A young player called, waving enthusiastically from behind his merchant stall. "Honour to see you today!"

Arthur nodded, maintaining the public persona he'd crafted. Aloof but fair. Powerful but approachable. The protector they all needed for what was coming.

"How goes business?" he asked, pausing at the stall lined with gleaming enchanted daggers.

The boy's face lit up. "Beyond expectations, sir! Since you implemented the commerce protections, my profits have tripled. I've finally found a job in this place, being a beta player in this village is truly a blessing, especially under your leadership. I have looked at many forums in the real world, and all the other villages are jealous of our progression."

Arthur allowed himself a small smile.

"That's good. Keep up the good work, don't forget to get stronger too. It's not only about money. You should also improve your strength."

"Yes, Sir!"

Three players huddled outside the blacksmith, their voices rising in heated debate until they spotted Arthur approaching.

"Swordmaster!" The tallest stepped forward.

"We have a dispute about resource allocation. The local judge suggested you might—"

"Walk with me," Arthur interrupted, not breaking stride.

They fell in beside him, explaining their issue.

Arthur resolved it in four sentences, leaving them bowing in gratitude behind him.

He continued his circuit of the village, noting defensive weaknesses, checking construction progress, and most importantly, being seen. Every appearance reinforced his position. Every problem solved bound more players to him when the worlds finally merged.

Outside the newly-constructed training hall, a mixed group of players and natives practised combat manoeuvres under the watchful eyes of the instructors.

As he completed his circuit of the village, Arthur paused near the western wall, gazing out over the expanding settlement.

Players streamed out through the gates, pushing themselves to become stronger.

Below, in the darkness of the prison cell, Adam screamed silently into an abyss of his own memories, tortured by a plant with a crystal heart.

Above, in the sunlight, Arthur built his kingdom brick by brick, player by player.

The countdown pulsed, demanding his attention.

[20:00:01]

Twenty hours left. Less than a day before the time comes. ƒree𝑤ebnσvel.com

The notification pulse jarred him from his planning trance.

A message from Gates:

"Arthur...We need to talk. In the real world. Something big has happened; you need to see it."

His brows furrowed. Gates never reached out without a reason.

"Alright, I'm logging out. Where do we meet?"

The response came immediately: "Inside the meeting room. One of the guards will lead you."

"Okay."

He appeared in the hospital room.

Arthur swung his legs over the bed's edge, slipping his feet into the waiting shoes. No time to linger.

The door opened before he reached it. A guard stood waiting—one of Gates' private security team. Broad-shouldered, expression carefully neutral beneath a regulation haircut.

"Mr. Arthur, are you ready to go?"

Arthur nodded. "Let's go."

They moved through sterile corridors. As they moved, Arthur couldn't help but notice more guards at the entrances.

Gates has increased security. Why?

The guard led him to a conference room at the end of a long hallway on the top floor. No windows. One entrance. Secure.

"In here, sir."

Arthur stepped through the doorway, instantly alert.

Gates sat at the far end of a polished table, his usual composure completely off.