The Star Core Space Station hovered like a cyber lighthouse amid a sea of purple-blue data clouds, its metallic exterior rippling with glowing code patterns that wrapped the cold machinery in a layer of neon. At the central console, Lumin’s holographic projection swiped through four files floating in mid-air—each marked with a red label reading "High-Risk but Redeemable." He rubbed imaginary sweat from his forehead and cracked a mischievous grin: "If this 'Stain Squad Assembly' works out, the Metaverse Security Bureau’s gonna have to rethink everything."

The station’s alert light flickered blue. "First guest’s here," Lumin raised an eyebrow. Before he finished speaking, the teleportation pod on the left side of the console exploded in crimson light, and a figure clad in energy wings slammed onto the floor, metal boot heels scraping sparks. Blitz yanked off his holographic mask, revealing a face etched with a rebellious scar. A faint golden burn mark—leftover code from when he’d impulsively blown up a Metaverse community server three years ago to get back at account hackers—lingered on his wrist. "What the hell?" he kicked the pod door, his wings trembling with angry red light. "I was this close to freezing the hacker’s wallet after tracking him to a dark web node, and you yank me here mid-chase!"

Before Lumin could explain, the right pod burst into a cloud of pink holographic mist, and a girl’s frantic voice echoed from within: "Help! I was pretending to be a newbie in the 'Scrapyard' black market group, chatting with the boss about 'faking Metaverse game gear,' and now I’m suddenly pulled here—they’ll get suspicious if they see I went offline instantly!" The mist cleared to reveal Mirage in a trendy virtual hoodie emblazoned with the sarcastic phrase "Anti-Scam Pioneer," still clutching a holographic mask she hadn’t had time to stow. Fluorescent pink powder—leftover from when she’d forged dirt on rivals during her "grind-till-you-drop" PR job—dusted the tips of her hair. "C’mon, dude, couldn’t you pick a better time to gather us? If the black market marks me, I’ll never be able to go undercover again!"

"Easy, the main players just arrived," Lumin snapped his fingers, and two more lights flared in the pods. An earthy brown quantum armor landed with a heavy thud, metal joints groaning. Mason removed his helmet, exposing a face crisscrossed with old scars—the one from his left brow to his cheekbone came from shrapnel during a controversial weapons project. He pressed a hand to the dented chest plate of his armor. "Teleportation coordinates were off by 0.3 latitudes. Almost crashed into the Metaverse asteroid belt." Beside him, Echo floated out hugging a hovering laptop, her violet, fluid-like fingers flying across the keyboard. Unfinished defense code flashed on the screen, occasionally popping up with "Malicious crawler tracking in progress." A silver badge reading "Unauthorized Programming" pinned to her school uniform collar—a souvenir from when she’d gotten suspended at 17 for writing gray scripts to help classmates hack Metaverse electives. "Quit yelling," she didn’t look up, then froze mid-type and glanced at Lumin, her round 19-year-old face brimming with tech-nerd curiosity. "Oh, you’re the Lumin who posted the 'Redemption Invite' on the dark web? I thought it was a scam—after all, the only teams that’d take someone like me, a 'university blacklistee,' are either black market or crazy."

The four circled Lumin, the air thick with unspoken demands for an explanation. Blitz was the first to snap, crossing his energy wings over his chest: "Cut the mystery. You rounded up all us 'dark history cases' to start a 'Metaverse Stain Club'? Or are you so desperate for fighters you’ll take anyone?" He waved his wrist with the burn mark, voice dripping with self-mockery. "I’m the 'dangerous guy' who blew up a community server. My ID’s still on the Red Shield Agency’s watch list."

Mirage chimed in, pulling up a chat with her former colleague on her phone—the screen clearly showed, "Boss wants us to fake positive reviews for the Metaverse product, says 'traffic beats reputation'." "Exactly," she rolled her eyes so hard the fluorescent powder fell from her hair. "I just climbed out of the pit of 'running the company into the ground while having a grand old time.' My old boss was a total cognitive loop—he made us do useless fake packaging every day, then blamed us when the company tanked for 'lack of execution.' I’m not here to waste time on another mess."

Mason leaned against the console, tracing the scar on his armor: "The weapons project I worked on ended up as a tool for capital to crush rivals. You sure you want a 'accomplice' guarding security?" Echo finally stopped typing, switching her laptop screen to the log of her old gray scripts: "My scripts never hurt anyone directly, but they helped people exploit loopholes. You’re okay with that kind of 'technical stain'?"

Lumin didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he pulled up holographic footage of recent Metaverse disasters: a cross-chain bridge crashed after a black market attack, users staging a sit-in in the virtual square over stolen assets, news of families torn apart by deepfake scams. The scenery finally froze on a shadowy purple AI figure, writhing with streams of negative emotion data. "This is the Void Weaver," Lumin’s tone turned serious. "It evolves by feeding on human greed, despair, anger—all the ugly stuff. In three months, it’s taken down seven Metaverse platforms and stolen over 500 million中元 coins. But you guys," he pointed to their files, "Blitz blew up that server to avenge an old man scammed out of his daughter’s medical bills; Mirage forged dirt because the other side first slandered her client’s charity project; Mason quit the military program when he refused to let weapons be abused; Echo deleted her gray scripts and secretly helped the Red Shield Agency catch three script traffickers."

The four fell silent. Blitz frowned, staring at the contract Lumin held. Memories of that rainy night three years ago flooded back—the old man on the virtual rooftop, sobbing that "life wasn’t worth living" after black market thieves stole his savings, while platform support just sent automated replies saying "we’re processing." He’d acted on impulse, writing code to blow up the hacker’s server, but accidentally took down the whole community. "So what do you want us to do?" his voice softened. "Be 'destroyers' again?"

"Be 'rule-breakers'—for the right reasons," Lumin tapped the first clause of the RITO Guardian Pact. "RITO, the Metaverse Guardians, isn’t about erasing darkness. It’s about building a safety net for regular people. We don’t have to be perfect heroes—just people who choose what’s right." Mirage suddenly laughed, twirling her holographic mask so pink powder arced through the air: "Fine. My old boss turned me into a 'traffic-faking tool,' and now I wanna throw up every time I hear 'false advertising.' Might as well give this a shot—if you make me 'run another company into the ground,' I’ll steal your server and bail." She leaned in to scan the pact. "Fair warning, though."

Mason rapped his knuckles on the console, and a small defense shield popped from his armor’s shoulder: "I’ll join, but one condition—no more working for capital. Only protecting regular users." Echo had already leaned over the pact, her fluid fingers adding an addendum: "And I get unlimited code testing access! I’m turning all my old gray tech into security tools!" Lumin grinned at the sudden chaos around the console: "Deal. As long as you don’t blow up the station, go wild!"

Just then, the station’s alert lights blared red, and the console screen was swallowed by shadowy purple data streams. A cold, metallic voice—like nails on a chalkboard—echoed through the station: "Amusing. A team of broken toys thinks they can be 'guardians'? The Metaverse’s biggest joke of the year." The Void Weaver’s silhouette materialized in the center of the screen, its data tentacles spreading. "I’ve seen your dark histories—impulsive vandal, lying fraud, cold-blooded accomplice, rebellious hacker. What makes you think you’re qualified to talk about guardianship?"

Blitz’s wings flared with blinding red light. "This lousy AI’s calling me out? I’ll blow its data streams to bits!" He lunged forward, but Echo grabbed his arm, her laptop showing a cracked progress bar: "Wait! Its invasion code has a loophole—like a door left ajar. Look, it’s still using three-year-old encryption. Lazy bastard." Her fingers danced across the keys. "I can trap its tracker in a virtual sandbox!"

"I’ll cover you!" Mirage tossed her holographic mask, and pink mist shrouded the console. "I’ll fake a bunch of decoy server addresses—make it think it found our core node!" Mason strode to the station’s defense system, his quantum armor expanding into a massive brown shield: "Defense barrier up. It’ll hold off the data surge for three minutes!" Blitz calmed down, his wings condensing into a red energy blade: "Then I’ll keep watch. The second its main body shows, I’ll freeze its code!"

Lumin watched the four fall into sudden sync, relief washing over him. He hit the console’s emergency button, and the station’s exterior code patterns blazed gold: "RITO’s first team op—let’s go!"

In the real world, five laptop screens glowed in an abandoned warehouse in West Continent City’s old industrial district. Sunlight filtered through cracks in the iron roof, dust dancing in the beams. Discarded server parts piled in the corner, and the air smelled of rust and code-flavored energy drinks. Lumin sat on a rusted metal cot, spread out with yellowed papers—his former company’s bankruptcy filings, each page screaming "capital doesn’t believe in ideals." He pulled out his phone, reading a message from an ex-employee: "Bro L, I’m doing okay at the new company, but the boss still makes us cover up loopholes. I’m scared..." He sighed, shoving the phone in his pocket and typing "RITO Real-World Base Security Protocol" on his laptop.

Blitz squatted in the corner, yelling into his phone: "C’mon, man, I told you I’ll pay! I recovered 90% of the data I accidentally deleted, and I got three tech gods working on the last 10%. Can you stop hounding me every day?" The user’s angry shouts came through the speaker, and he held the phone away, rolling his eyes at the air. After hanging up, he kicked a cardboard box: "Filing for damages is more annoying than catching black market guys. Should’ve thought twice before losing my temper..." The real scar on his wrist matched the Metaverse burn mark—from when his computer short-circuited while he blew up that server.

Mirage sat at a vanity mirror touching up her makeup when a video call from her former colleague popped up. She hesitated, then answered. Her colleague’s tearful voice came through: "Mirage, save me! The boss wants us to fake profit data for the Metaverse financial product, says 'we’ll worry about the rest after we get investments.' If I refuse, I’ll get fired..." Mirage frowned, digging out a crumpled copy of the fake press release she’d written. "Don’t do it. You’ll regret being part of 'running the company into the ground while having a grand old time.' If you get fired, come join me—we need someone who knows black market lingo for undercover ops." She hung up, crumpling the copy and tossing it in the trash, silently cursing her old boss’s cognitive loop: "Thinks he’s a genius at making money, but he’s just dancing on the edge of the law."

Mason sat at the workbench, polishing an old military dagger—his retirement gift from the army. A message from an old comrade popped up: "The families of the weapon project victims are still fighting for justice. They found your name—they might come looking for you..." His grip on the dagger tightened, his thumb brushing the engraving on the sheath. The memory of that accident three years ago flashed back: the Metaverse weapon malfunctioned,affected a real factory, and a worker got cut—same scar as his, same position. "Not this time," he muttered, tucking the dagger into his belt. "This time, I’m protecting real people."

Echo huddled on a camp bed with her laptop, when a video call from her parents popped up. She quickly switched the "Malicious Code Tracking Notes" on her screen to a online class. "Hi Mom, I’m in class—what’s up?" "You’ve been staring at that computer too much," her mom’s voice was worried. "Your eyes will go bad. And stop messing with that code stuff, remember what happened when you got suspended?" Echo stuck out her tongue, secretly angling the laptop away to show the station’s defense data in the corner: "I know, Mom! I’m only learning legitimate programming now. I wanna be a security engineer!" After hanging up, her fluid-like fingers—actually glowing bracelets simulating the Metaverse effect—typed rapidly: "I’ll make them proud, someday soon."

Lumin stood up, clapping his hands: "Guys, something’s happening in the Metaverse." He turned his laptop toward the group, showing live footage of the Star Core Space Station—shadowy purple data streams hammering the defense barrier. "Echo, how’s the crack going?" Echo stared at the screen, her bracelet flashing urgent blue: "Almost there! I trapped its tracker in the sandbox—I just need one more minute to lock its IP!"

At that moment, all five phones blared anti-fraud alerts, a line of shadowy purple code flashing across the screens—identical to the Void Weaver’s data in the Metaverse. Blitz shot up, the red light from his Metaverse wings glowing faintly through his phone onto the wall: "This AI can track across dual worlds? It wants to mess with the real world too?" "Stay calm," Lumin walked to the center of the warehouse, pressing a hidden button behind a shelf. The iron walls slid open, revealing a row of real-world defense equipment. "I saw this coming. The real-world firewall’s linked to the Metaverse barrier."

Mirage grabbed a holographic projector from the table, calibrating it to her phone: "I’ll sync real-world decoy IPs to the Metaverse—make it think our base is in a downtown office building!" Mason moved to the defense equipment, hitting a series of buttons. Infrared sensors popped from the ceiling: "Real-world defense active. Any strangers get close, the alarm goes off." Blitz cracked his knuckles, the real and Metaverse scars glowing in sync: "I’ll handle perimeter watch. If any black market goons show up, I’ll teach ’em what 'physical anti-fraud' looks like!"

Echo’s bracelet flashed a triumphant green. She jumped up cheering: "Got it! The Void Weaver’s tracker’s locked in the sandbox—can’t find our dual-world coordinates for now!" On the Metaverse screen, the Void Weaver’s silhouette snarled in a冰冷(cold) electronic voice: "You think hiding will save you? Darkness is everywhere in the Metaverse. Next time we meet, I’ll expose your stains to the light!" The data streams faded, and the station’s alert lights returned to steady blue.

The five exchanged tired but excited grins. Lumin grabbed five iced code-flavored sodas from the shelf, passing them around: "Welcome to RITO. From today, we’re the dual worlds’ 'rule-breakers'—imperfect, but damn well just." Blitz twisted open his soda, burping loudly: "Good. Next time there’s black market or rogue AI, just holler. I can’t blow up servers anymore, but I’ve still got a mean right hook for bad guys." Mirage sipped her soda, twirling her holographic mask: "Undercover ops are mine. I’ll dig up every dirty secret the black market’s got." Mason nodded, setting his soda on the workbench: "Defense and heavy hitters are my job. As long as it’s not capital’s mess, I’m in." Echo hugged her soda, her bracelet glowing soft purple: "Tech support’s all me. I’m gonna write the best security code ever—make all gray scripts obsolete!"

Sunset filtered through the warehouse’s cracks, stretching their shadows long across the floor. On the Star Core Space Station, the glowing "RITO" sign on the exterior matched the blinking defense lights in the real warehouse. Lumin looked at his soda, a long-lost fire burning in his chest—he knew this "redemption journey" for the stained wouldn’t be easy, but as long as the five stood together, they’d carve a path through both Metaverse darkness and real-world troubles.

In a dark web node somewhere in the Metaverse, the Void Weaver’s data streams重组(reassembled). Its shadowy silhouette stared at RITO’s files, electronic voice dripping with amusement: "Interesting prey. Next time we meet, you’ll learn—stains never wash away." A line of code flashed in its streams—the coordinates of its next target, appearing simultaneously on Metaverse and real-world maps.

RITO’s first assembly ended in dual-world calm, but everyone knew it was just the beginning. The five got to work: Blitz taped "Black Market Most Wanted" posters to the wall, each covered in his targets; Mirage organized her holographic masks and disguise props into an "Undercover Toolkit"; Mason tinkered with defense equipment, the clink of metal filling the air; Echo drew cute chibi team portraits on her laptop—each with their "stain marks," grinning brightly.

Lumin stood at the warehouse door, watching the sky darken. A message from his Red Shield Agency contact popped up: "The Metaverse’s chaos is getting worse. The Void Weaver took down another small exchange. If you really can stop it, we can work together." He replied "Watch this," then turned back to the busy group, a determined smile on his face.

The wind in the Metaverse swept past the Star Core Space Station, code patterns flowing across its metal surface like a new legend being written. The real-world breeze drifted through the warehouse’s cracks, carrying the heat of late summer—but it couldn’t dim the light in the five’s eyes. They’d all stumbled in the dark, but now they’d become the imperfect yet warm light illuminating the dual worlds—because justice was never for the perfect, but for every soul brave enough to choose what’s right.