A few days later, in a conference room somewhere in Dunmire.
A long black table stretched across the room, lined with about twenty seats on either side. Roughly two-thirds of them were occupied. And the people sitting there? They weren’t just anyone. The leaders of the top ten guilds, high-ranking military officials from the faction-backed guilds, and even Nathaniel himself—all present.
But at this moment, not a single one of them spoke. The room was silent, heavy with anticipation, as if they were all waiting for something.
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Suddenly, the sound of hurried footsteps echoed from outside. A moment later, the conference room doors swung open, and a man stepped aside, making a welcoming gesture.
"Mr. Ethan, please come in."
Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!
Instantly, every single person in the room stood up in unison, their gazes snapping toward the entrance.
Ethan stepped inside, his pace steady, unhurried, completely at ease. His eyes swept across the room—calm, clear, devoid of any discernible emotion. And yet, that very lack of expression carried an overwhelming pressure, an invisible force that seemed to fill the entire space.
It was an aura—intangible yet suffocating.
In an instant, it settled over everyone present like a crushing weight.
Their bodies tensed. Their blood felt like it was flowing slower. Some even felt their hearts pounding so fast it was almost suffocating.
"What an insane presence..." Several people’s expressions shifted slightly, their eyes filled with a mix of awe and unease.
But if any of them had dared to voice that thought out loud, Ethan would’ve been completely baffled.
What presence? What the hell are they even talking about?
God as his witness, he wasn’t doing a damn thing.
At most, he was just... relaxed. Not nervous. Just casually walking in.
The real reason for this reaction?
Honestly, they were just psyching themselves out.
Because over the past few weeks, the rumors about Ethan had spread like wildfire. And they weren’t just any rumors—they were terrifying.
11-Tier Royal Units. Tier 3 Magic. Draconic Pact representative.
One after another, these stories had piled up, weighing on their minds, making them feel insignificant in comparison.
So now, standing face-to-face with him, their subconscious was already primed with fear.
They lacked confidence. They were intimidated.
He had nothing to prove. His strength was undeniable. He had no reason to be nervous.
He didn’t care who they were.
Didn’t care about their status.
Didn’t care about their influence.
Sorry, not interested. Not impressed.
To him, the guild leaders, the military-backed generals, even Nathaniel himself—these so-called titans of North America, these figures who commanded global recognition—
They were just... people.
No different from any other player.
No different from any random passerby.
And when you truly don’t care, you have nothing to fear.
Maybe that’s what they meant by presence.
As Ethan took his seat under General Nathaniel Grant’s guidance, Nathaniel took a deep breath, then turned to address the room. His voice was steady, deliberate.
"Ladies and gentlemen, I know that some of you are already acquainted with Mr. Ethan. And even if you haven’t met him personally, you’ve certainly heard of him. But since this is our first formal gathering, allow me to properly introduce him."
Nathaniel turned toward Ethan and spoke with measured respect.
"This is Mr. Ethan Parker, the representative of the Draconic Pact. In-game, he goes by Valkarion. If Mr. Ethan has no objections, you may also address him by his in-game name."
Ethan smiled slightly, his tone casual. "You can call me Ethan, or Valkarion—whichever works. I don’t mind."
A brief silence followed. Then, someone slowly rose from their seat.
"Mr. Ethan, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Caesar, from Lich’s Covenant." He gave a slight bow of respect.
Clearly, despite Ethan’s relaxed attitude, Caesar wasn’t foolish enough to take his words at face value.
Sure, Ethan had said they could be informal. But actually doing that?
Only an idiot would take that risk.
One by one, more people stood up.
"Mr. Ethan, I’m Xavian, from Holy Concord."
"Mr. Ethan, I’m Theron Voss, from Arcane Dominion. It’s an honor to meet you. I look forward to working together in the future."
"Mr. Ethan, I’m Xavier, from Rising Empire. I’ve heard countless stories about you, and now that I’ve met you in person... I can see they weren’t exaggerated."
"Mr. Ethan, I’m Vance, from Mountain’s Shrine..."
One after another, the most powerful figures in North America stood up, greeting Ethan with unwavering respect.
If an outsider had been watching this scene, they would’ve been absolutely stunned.
This wasn’t just impressive—it was downright unreal.
A gathering of absolute power, all acknowledging a single man.
Caesar from Lich’s Covenant. Xavian from Holy Concord. Theron Voss from Arcane Dominion.
And even the military generals.
These were the top figures in the entire North American gaming sphere.
People who usually stood at the very peak, looking down on everyone else.
When had they ever shown this level of deference to someone—especially someone so young?
This scene was unprecedented.
For anyone else, standing in Ethan’s position right now would’ve been terrifying. The sheer weight of these figures acknowledging them would’ve been enough to make most people’s legs give out.
His expression didn’t change in the slightest.
He simply smiled, calm and composed, accepting their greetings as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
As Emerald Castle continued to grow in power, Ethan’s mindset had already shifted.
Guild leaders of the so-called Top Ten? Military-backed generals?
Sure, those titles might sound impressive at first.
But let’s put it another way—none of these people even had an Epic-tier hero.
Not a single one of them commanded 11-Tier units.
Still think they’re powerful?
Still think they’re a big deal?
Still think they’re intimidating?
In this era, in-game strength was the only thing that truly mattered.
Outside the game? Sure, they might have influence, wealth, status.
None of that was worth a damn anymore.