Betrayal Aggro
Chapter 7 – Betrayal Aggro
The Neon Abyss didn’t feel like a dungeon.
It felt like Seoul’s bloodstream–opened up and turned inside out.
Joonseo landed with a hard jolt of boots on metal. The air was cold and wet, carrying a chemical tang like rain on electricity. Above them, the ceiling stretched impossibly high, a cathedral of cables and shattered LED panels. Neon signage floated in the darkness like broken constellations–EXIT, 환승, SALE 70%, all flickering between Korean and unreadable rune-script.
And underneath it all, a low hum–like the world was buffering.
The raid lock chimed again, loud enough to make people flinch.
RAID LOCK: ACTIVE AREA EFFECT: Communication Delay (Minor) WARNING: PK ENABLED INSIDE RAID ZONES (Rare)
A murmur rippled through the group.
“PK enabled?” “Inside a raid?” “That’s bullshit–” “Is it real–?”
Jaxon’s voice cut through the panic, amplified like he had an invisible mic.
“Eyes up!” he barked. “No splitting. No wandering. We do this like a real clear.”
His nameplate hovered near the front, bright and obnoxious.
JAXON – Party Leader
Tanks took the lead. Healers clustered behind. Ranged players flanked the formation. The non-combatants–those who’d come for protection and hub expansion rewards–pressed into the center like a nervous heart.
Leon stood half a step ahead of Joonseo, shield icon glowing faintly. Not fully raised yet, but ready. He looked like he’d been designed for this–like the game had built him into a wall for a reason.
Joonseo hated that the sight steadied him.
He adjusted his cap lower, then immediately regretted it–because the brim shadowed his vision in the dim. He loosened it a fraction, breath tight, hands hovering near his skill menu like muscle memory.
Illusion Veil. Courage Aura. Charm Hymn.
And the locked bond skill line: Consent Aura.
He didn’t look at it.
He didn’t want the system to know he’d noticed it again.
The corridor ahead split into two paths: one drenched in pulsing magenta light, the other in cold cyan. The floor was slick, reflecting the neon glow like oil.
Jaxon pointed. “Magenta route. Faster. Less mobs if the map is accurate.”
Someone shouted back, “What map?”
Jaxon ignored them.
Leon’s jaw tightened. Joonseo saw it–just a subtle hardening, like Leon didn’t trust Jaxon’s instincts, but didn’t have the authority to argue in a crowd this large.
They moved.
The Abyss responded immediately.
The moment the first ten players crossed the threshold into the magenta corridor, the lights above them flickered–and then the floor markings shifted.
The line that had been a straight path split into branching patterns like veins.
A system banner rippled across the air:
NEON ABYSS MECHANIC: PATH DESYNC PARTY COHESION REQUIRED
People cursed.
The group’s formation wavered, the back line hesitating as the corridor seemed to tilt.
Joonseo felt the gold tether between him and Leon pulse–subtle, insistent–as if reminding him of the one thing that stayed consistent in the Abyss:
Party distance mattered.
“Stay with me,” Leon murmured without looking back.
Joonseo gritted his teeth. “I am.”
The FRAUD debuff flickered like a jealous eye at the edge of his vision.
He ignored it.
They advanced deeper, magenta light staining everyone’s faces.
Then the first wave hit.
It didn’t come from ahead.
It came from the walls.
Neon-shadow creatures peeled themselves off the LED panels like wet paint–humanoid shapes with jagged limbs and glitching faces, their mouths opening in static screams. Red aggro bars snapped into existence above them.
NEON HUSK – LVL 4
“Front line!” Jaxon shouted. “Tanks–taunt! Healers–keep the back alive!”
Leon moved instantly, shield flaring into a semi-circle of light that caught the first husk mid-lunge. The impact rang through the corridor like metal struck with a hammer.
Joonseo lifted his hands, calling Courage Aura over Leon and the nearest tank cluster. Golden light spread like a pulse, bright against the magenta gloom.
COURAGE AURA – ACTIVE
HP bars steadied. Panic loosened.
For a few seconds, it worked.
The raid began to look like a raid–people moving in practiced patterns, muscle memory from a game now shoved into flesh and blood.
Joonseo hated how familiar it felt.
Because familiarity made him forget, for half a second, that he was trapped inside Elizabeth’s skin.
Then someone screamed.
A husk had slipped through a gap in the formation–one of the flanking DPS had panicked and stepped back, creating a hole. The husk surged toward the center, toward the non-combatants.
Toward Elizabeth.
Joonseo’s heart lurched.
The creature’s aggro snapped to him like he was marked.
Leon’s shield icon flared brighter. He pivoted hard, body moving between Joonseo and the husk without hesitation.
Leon took the hit.
The husk’s claw scraped across his shoulder. Blood–real blood–spattered dark on Leon’s hoodie.
Leon grunted, jaw clenched, and slammed his shield into the husk’s chest.
The creature shattered into pixels.
Joonseo’s stomach churned.
He stared at the blood on Leon’s sleeve like it was proof of something he couldn’t bear.
Leon didn’t look back. He just tightened his stance again, shielding.
As if being hurt for Elizabeth was normal.
As if it was what he was built to do.
Jaxon’s voice rang out again. “Keep moving! Don’t stall–this is attrition!”
The corridor ahead pulsed, and the magenta light shifted, turning darker–more violent.
A new banner unfurled:
PHASE 1 COMPLETE PHASE 2: SIGNAL LOSS
The hum underneath the world deepened.
Joonseo’s mini-map flickered and then… blurred. Street lines became smeared. Icons jittered.
Several players shouted at once.
“My map’s glitching!” “I can’t see my cooldown!” “My inventory–what–”
Joonseo’s skill icons shimmered. Courage Aura’s glow dimmed at the edges as if his magic had to fight through static.
His FRAUD debuff pulsed, eager.
He swallowed hard.
Leon leaned slightly closer, voice low. “If your skills start misfiring, tell me.”
Joonseo’s mouth went dry.
Tell him.
He couldn’t even tell Leon his name.
But he forced out, “Okay.”
They rounded a corner into a wider chamber that looked like an underground concourse–one of those sprawling subway transfer halls, except the ceiling was missing. Above them, the sky was pure neon void.
A massive rift floated at the far end, swirling with dark-blue light.
The Gate Core.
Between them and it stood something tall, stitched out of screens and cables, its body flashing ads and error codes. It dragged chains that sparked against the metal floor.
Above its head:
BOSS: THE ADJUDICATOR – LVL 5
People swore under their breath.
A healer whispered, “We’re under-leveled.”
Jaxon clapped his hands once, loud. “We do it with mechanics. Tanks rotate. Healers cleanse. Bards–keep buffs up.”
His gaze snapped straight to Joonseo.
“Elizabeth! You’re on main buff rotation. Don’t drop Courage.”
Joonseo’s jaw clenched.
He wanted to spit back I’m not your Bard.
But the FRAUD debuff flickered again, and a familiar sharpness pressed behind his eyes like a warning.
Don’t lie. Don’t hide. Don’t–
Leon’s hand hovered close to his elbow again. Not touching. Grounding.
“Ignore him,” Leon murmured. “Just focus.”
Joonseo hated how much he needed that voice.
The fight began with a roar that shook the chamber.
The Adjudicator swung its chain, and the floor lit up with neon warning lines–AoE markers painted onto reality.
“Tanks front!” Jaxon shouted. “Move out of red!”
People scrambled, boots skidding. Some reacted too slowly, caught in the AoE. A burst of damage hit them and the scream that followed was not a game sound.
It was human.
Joonseo’s stomach lurched.
He cast Courage Aura again, pushing gold light outward. It hit the tanks, the healers, the cluster of terrified non-combatants pressed behind.
The system chimed softly. Buff icons stacked.
For a moment, it held.
The Adjudicator slammed its chain down again.
A new mechanic triggered:
BOSS MECHANIC: VERDICT TARGETS SELECTED – 3 PLAYERS IF TARGETS FALL: RAID WIPE CHANCE INCREASED
Three neon rings flared beneath feet in the crowd.
One under Jaxon.
One under a healer.
And one–
Under Elizabeth.
Joonseo’s breath stopped.
The ring beneath him glowed brighter, and a countdown appeared above his head in harsh white text.
VERDICT: 10… 9… 8…
A murmur rippled through the raid.
“Elizabeth got targeted–” “Protect her–” “Don’t let her drop–” “Leon, Leon–!”
The sound of his name spoken by strangers made Leon’s posture harden, protective instinct snapping into place.
Leon stepped closer without thinking, shield raised.
“Stay still,” Leon said, voice tight. “I’ll cover you.”
Joonseo’s throat went dry.
The verdict marker meant something would hit him. Something heavy.
He had to prepare. He had to buff. He had to–
His FRAUD debuff pulsed, and the edge of his vision shimmered with static.
Mana instability.
Emotional overload.
The Adjudicator’s head turned–screens flashing error codes–and it looked directly at Elizabeth.
Not at Leon. Not at the tanks.
At him.
The thing’s eyes weren’t eyes. They were ad panels, scrolling words:
IDENTITY MISMATCH FRAUD DETECTED CONFESSION REQUIRED
Joonseo’s blood turned to ice.
No.
Nobody else seemed to see the words. Or maybe they did, but didn’t understand.
Joonseo’s breath came shallow.
The countdown above his head kept ticking.
7… 6… 5…
Leon’s voice sharpened. “Elizabeth. Focus. You need to–”
“I’m trying,” Joonseo snapped, panic flaring.
The Adjudicator lifted its chain.
The chain crackled with dark-blue light.
Leon braced, shield flaring.
Joonseo forced his hands up, trying to cast Illusion Veil to reduce incoming damage, to redirect–
He cast.
The spell stuttered.
Not minor this time.
It fractured.
The light that should have unfolded into a veil burst into jagged shards, flickering around him like broken glass.
A red warning flashed across his UI:
SKILL MISFIRE: MAJOR CAUSE: Mana Instability (FRAUD) + Signal Loss RESULT: Veil Reversal – Threat Amplified
Joonseo’s stomach dropped.
Threat amplified.
The Adjudicator’s chain swung–straight for him.
Leon moved like he was spring-loaded.
He stepped into the path of the chain, shield raised, body thrown between Elizabeth and the hit–
“No!” Joonseo’s voice tore out, high and wrong.
The chain struck Leon’s shield with a shattering impact.
The barrier cracked.
Leon staggered. His HP bar plunged dangerously low.
A healer screamed, “Leon’s down–!”
Joonseo’s heart slammed.
The world narrowed to the sight of Leon on one knee, blood spattering the floor, his face twisted in pain–and still, still turning toward Elizabeth like he needed to check if she was safe.
The verdict countdown hit zero.
VERDICT: EXECUTE
A blast of dark-blue energy detonated around Elizabeth.
Joonseo felt it hit like a wave–pain lancing through his ribs, his skin screaming, his vision blotting with static. He bit back a scream, teeth grinding, body folding.
Leon tried to rise.
He couldn’t.
Joonseo’s Courage Aura flickered, unstable. His mana felt like it was shaking apart inside him.
The raid formation began to fracture.
Someone panicked and ran.
Another player tried to chase loot that spilled from a husk.
Healers screamed for order.
Jaxon’s voice cracked. “Hold the line! HOLD–”
The Adjudicator roared, chain swinging again, and the chamber became chaos.
And in the chaos, Joonseo heard it.
A voice he recognized.
Not from this world–
From voice chat.
A certain cadence. A laugh.
A tone.
It came from behind, from the cluster of ranged players.
A man–now wearing mage gear, but with a face that still looked like he belonged in Seoul–stared at Elizabeth with widening eyes.
His nameplate hovered above him:
KAIROS – Level 3 – Mage
Kairos’s mouth parted.
“Holy–” he breathed. Then louder, sharper, cutting through the noise: “No way.”
Joonseo’s blood froze.
Kairos stepped closer, eyes locked onto Elizabeth’s face and–more importantly–Elizabeth’s casting style.
The specific timing of the buffs. The way she flicked her hands. The pattern of her skills.
Like recognition wasn’t based on looks, but on habits.
On muscle memory.
On the person behind the character.
Kairos’s gaze snapped to Leon, then back to Elizabeth, and something cruel lit behind his eyes.
“You,” Kairos said, voice rising with shock and dawning realization. “You’re–”
Joonseo’s throat closed.
Leon forced himself upright, shield trembling. He looked between them, confused, hurt, still bleeding.
“What–” Leon rasped. “What is he talking about?”
Kairos’s expression sharpened.
He didn’t answer Leon.
He addressed the crowd, loud enough to be heard.
“Elizabeth isn’t–” Kairos began, then paused as if savoring it. “Elizabeth isn’t who you think she is.”
Joonseo’s heart dropped through the floor.
The FRAUD debuff flared so hard his vision flashed white.
FRAUD (Stage 1) – CRITICAL SPIKE EFFECT: Silence (2 seconds) / Mana Collapse Risk
His throat tightened. His voice died.
He couldn’t speak.
He couldn’t deny.
He couldn’t confess.
The system itself was choking him.
Leon’s gaze snapped to Elizabeth, sharp and bewildered. “Elizabeth?” he said, voice breaking in a way Joonseo had never heard. “What does that mean?”
Kairos laughed once–short, incredulous. “Bro. Leon. You really don’t know?”
Leon’s face went pale.
He took a step toward Elizabeth, blood dripping from his sleeve, eyes searching, pleading, angry all at once.
“Tell me,” Leon rasped.
Joonseo tried to speak.
Nothing came out.
Silence.
Two seconds of it, but it felt like drowning.
The Adjudicator’s chain lifted again, and the raid screamed as the boss prepared a wipe mechanic.
Jaxon shouted, “Focus! STOP TALKING AND FIGHT!”
Healers scrambled.
Tanks rotated.
The raid barely survived the next slam by sheer panic and numbers.
But the damage was already done.
Not to HP bars.
To trust.
Kairos kept staring at Elizabeth, grin twitching like he’d found the perfect drama for this apocalypse.
Leon stared too–harder, more desperate, like his whole past was suddenly a question mark.
Joonseo’s silence wore off. His voice returned in a rush, breath ragged.
He could lie.
He could try.
But the FRAUD debuff hovered like a blade, waiting to punish the next false word.
The boss roared again.
Neon warning lines painted the floor.
The gate core pulsed like a heart about to stop.
And in the middle of the chaos, with Leon bleeding and the whole raid teetering on collapse, the truth finally surfaced in Joonseo’s mind like bile:
This wasn’t going to stay hidden.
Not in a world where the system could see.
Not in a world where people recognized playstyles the way they recognized faces.
Not in a world where Leon’s love–born in a game–had now become something real enough to break.
Joonseo lifted his hands, forcing one more Courage Aura through trembling fingers.
Gold light burst outward, holding the raid together by sheer will.
But his eyes kept sliding back to Leon.
Leon, still staring at him like he didn’t know where to place his devotion anymore.
Leon, who had once been saved by Elizabeth’s voice through a headset–
–and who now looked like he might be destroyed by the person behind that voice.
The Adjudicator’s chain slammed down again.
The chamber shook.
And somewhere in the shifting neon darkness, Kairos’s voice drifted, cruel and excited:
“Tell him,” Kairos said softly, “or I will.”