Ethan and ChronoKnight moved deeper into the Forest of Whispers, the eerie mist hanging low as they navigated through the dense undergrowth. The environment felt alive with muted sounds: the distant rustle of leaves, the soft chittering of unseen creatures, and the occasional low growl of a nearby predator. But for ChronoKnight, these dangers seemed insignificant.
Ethan couldn’t help but notice how easily his companion dispatched the enemies they encountered. Low-level Creepers and Forest Wisps that Ethan struggled to neutralize were nothing more than fleeting annoyances for the swordsman. ChronoKnight moved with practiced ease, his sword cutting through enemies with precision, his posture relaxed but confident.
“This area seems too easy for you,” Ethan remarked, tilting his head as he watched ChronoKnight clear out a group of Wisps with a single sweeping strike. “You don’t look like someone who’s new to this game. Are you... a high-level player or something?”
ChronoKnight paused, turning to face Ethan. There was a moment of silence, and then he scratched the back of his neck, looking almost bashful. “Well, you got me there. I’m not exactly new to Rebirth Online. I’ve been playing for a while—on my main account, anyway. This is a fresh start for me.”
Ethan raised an eyebrow. “A fresh start? Why would an elite player want to start all over again? Isn’t that kind of frustrating?”
ChronoKnight chuckled, sheathing his sword as he leaned against a nearby tree. “Not really. You see, I like helping people out—new players especially. It’s exciting to see how they approach the game, their fresh ideas, and the way they tackle challenges. Starting from scratch lets me be part of that experience again. Plus,” he added with a grin, “it keeps things interesting. It reminds me why I fell in love with this game in the first place.”
Ethan felt a pang of recognition at ChronoKnight’s words. It mirrored his own reasons for diving back into Rebirth Online with a new account. The need to rediscover the joy of playing without the pressure of fame or expectations.
“That’s... admirable,” Ethan said quietly. His gaze dropped to the ground, his mind turning over ChronoKnight’s words. Something about the swordsman’s honest and down-to-earth attitude made Ethan feel at ease, like he could share his own truth.
The thought lingered for a moment before Ethan made his decision. Taking a deep breath, he looked up at ChronoKnight. “You know, I wasn’t entirely honest with you earlier. There’s something I want to tell you.”
ChronoKnight tilted his head curiously. “What’s that?”
Ethan hesitated for a moment, then pushed forward. “I’m The Phoenix.”
ChronoKnight blinked, his expression blank for a moment before it twisted into one of confusion. “What?”
“I mean it,” Ethan said, his voice steady despite the growing tension in the air. “I’m The Phoenix—the legendary player everyone talks about. This is my new account. I wanted to start fresh.”
ChronoKnight’s initial reaction was shock, but it quickly shifted into something more serious. His brow furrowed, and his lips pressed into a thin line as he stared at Ethan.
“You’re joking, right?” ChronoKnight asked, his voice lower now, edged with disbelief.
Ethan shook his head. “I’m serious.”
The swordsman crossed his arms, his gaze narrowing. “Look, I don’t know what your deal is, but that’s not something you should joke about. Phoenix is a legend—a pro player who set records no one’s even come close to breaking. Pretending to be him isn’t just ridiculous; it’s disrespectful.”
The sharpness in ChronoKnight’s tone caught Ethan off guard, and he felt a pang of regret. He hadn’t meant to offend, but clearly, his revelation hadn’t gone over well.
“I wasn’t trying to be disrespectful,” Ethan said carefully. “I just thought—”
“You just thought what?” ChronoKnight interrupted. “That claiming to be someone like that would impress me? Or that it’d somehow make me take you more seriously? I already respect you as a player, Ethan. You don’t need to resort to tall tales.”
Ethan opened his mouth to protest but stopped himself. ChronoKnight’s words carried an earnestness that stung more than any harsh rebuke could. It was clear the swordsman genuinely valued authenticity and honesty.
“I get it,” Ethan finally said, lowering his gaze. “I won’t bring it up again.”
ChronoKnight nodded, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. “Good. Let’s focus on getting through this quest. You’re doing well so far, and I’d like to see you succeed—without any unnecessary distractions.”
Ethan managed a small smile, though his thoughts were more conflicted than ever. The brief exchange had been a lesson in humility, a reminder that his past as Phoenix didn’t matter here—not in the way he thought it might. If anything, it was better to leave it behind entirely and focus on building something new, one step at a time.
As they pressed deeper into the forest, Ethan resolved to let go of his old identity, at least for now. It was time to let his actions speak louder than his reputation ever could.
The journey back to the job-changing stand was uneventful, a welcome reprieve after the chaos of earlier. With ChronoKnight by his side, Ethan felt a rare sense of security, as if nothing could go wrong. Monsters seemed less threatening, and even the dense, eerie forest seemed less intimidating.
When they arrived at the job-changing stand, the person in charge—a gruff, middle-aged NPC clad in white and gold robes—gave Ethan a long, scrutinizing look.
“You’ve completed the trial,” the NPC said, his voice heavy with resignation. “But I have to ask you one last time—are you certain you want to become a healer? This is a demanding path, and not many players choose it for a reason. You won’t have the flashy skills of a swordsman or the overwhelming power of a mage. Your role will be thankless, your journey solitary. Are you sure this is what you want?”
Ethan didn’t hesitate. “Yes. This is what I want.”
The NPC sighed, shaking his head as if lamenting Ethan’s decision. “Very well. You have proven your resolve. From this moment forward, you are a healer. Use your abilities wisely.”
With a dramatic wave of his hand, the NPC chanted something in a language Ethan couldn’t understand. A faint glow enveloped him, and a notification popped up:
<b>Congratulations! You have successfully changed your job to Healer.</b>
Ethan’s character now donned a simple white tunic with faint green accents, symbolizing his new role. He opened his skill menu and saw a modest list of abilities, including a basic healing spell and a small buff that increased defense for a short time.
ChronoKnight clapped him on the shoulder. “Well, you’ve done it. Welcome to the rare breed of healers in this game. I hope you know what you’re doing.”Stolen story; please report.
Ethan grinned. “Thanks for your help. I’ll figure it out as I go.”
ChronoKnight chuckled. “I like your determination. You’ll do fine. Just don’t let people take advantage of you, okay? Not everyone’s going to be as straightforward as me.”
Ethan nodded, appreciating the advice. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
With a wave, ChronoKnight turned and walked away, disappearing into the crowd of players near the job-changing area. Ethan watched him go, feeling a mix of gratitude and newfound independence.
Ethan decided to try out his new abilities immediately. He visited the marketplace and used a portion of his remaining gold to buy a small dagger—it wasn’t much, but it was better than going unarmed. Armed and ready, he headed toward the nearest low-level dungeon, eager to see how he’d fare.
The entrance to the dungeon was crowded with other players forming parties, each strategizing for their runs. Ethan approached the board near the entrance and selected a solo run option.
Inside, the dungeon was dimly lit, with narrow stone corridors and faint echoes of dripping water. The first few enemies were weak goblins, perfect for testing his abilities. Ethan engaged one cautiously, slashing with his dagger. The damage was minimal, even with critical hits, and the goblin retaliated with ferocity.
Ethan backed off and cast his basic healing spell on himself. The warm glow of the spell enveloped him, restoring his health. He grinned—it wasn’t much, but it was enough to keep him alive without needing to burn through healing potions.
“This is going to take forever,” he muttered as he resumed attacking the goblin. After what felt like an eternity, the enemy finally collapsed. A notification appeared, awarding him a small amount of experience.
Ethan sighed. The process was slow and grueling. He couldn’t rely on sheer damage to defeat enemies like he had in his DPS days. Instead, he had to outlast them, relying on his healing to survive longer battles.
The next few encounters were much the same. Goblins fell one by one, but it took considerable time and effort. Ethan quickly realized why healers were unpopular in Rebirth Online. At lower levels, their damage output was negligible, making solo grinding a tedious endeavor.
But Ethan wasn’t deterred. If anything, the challenge fueled his determination. He knew how to grind—his years as a professional gamer had taught him patience and perseverance. He adapted quickly, learning to kite enemies, manage his mana efficiently, and time his heals perfectly.
Each fight became a learning experience, a step toward mastering his new role. As he progressed deeper into the dungeon, he began to appreciate the subtle intricacies of playing as a healer. It wasn’t about dealing damage; it was about survival, endurance, and strategy.
Ethan’s unique approach to combat—combining precise positioning with constant self-healing—made him a formidable solo player, even if it wasn’t the most efficient method. And with every victory, he felt a growing sense of accomplishment.
By the time he exited the dungeon, the sun was setting in the game world, casting a golden glow over the landscape. Ethan checked his progress: he hadn’t leveled up, but he was close. More importantly, he felt like he had a deeper understanding of what it meant to be a healer.
He looked at his character, clad in simple healer’s robes, and smiled. This was just the beginning, but he was ready for whatever came next.
______
Ethan stopped playing as the faint rays of dawn crept through his curtains. The sun was almost up, and with it came the rude awakening that he had to face reality once again. His body protested as he peeled himself off the bed, every movement feeling like it required an unreasonable amount of effort. Somehow, through sheer will—or perhaps sheer stubbornness—he managed to drag himself to school without nodding off on the subway this time.
In class, his victory was short-lived. The teacher, who had clearly been waiting for her moment, called his name with a sharpness that could cut glass. Ethan raised his hand weakly, hoping to avoid any confrontation, but luck was not on his side.
"Mr. Carter," she began, her tone laced with disapproval, "nice of you to join us today. Care to explain why you thought it was acceptable to skip class yesterday without informing anyone?"
Ethan opened his mouth, but before he could even muster an excuse, the teacher''s eyes narrowed, and her gaze shifted from annoyed to... concerned?
She squinted at him, as if trying to discern whether he was a student or a zombie impersonating one. "Ethan, are you... okay? You look like you’ve been in a fight with a steamroller—and lost."
"I’m fine," Ethan croaked, though his pale, sunken face told a different story.
The teacher shook her head, her earlier annoyance replaced with motherly concern. “No, you’re not. You look like you’re about to pass out. Go to the nurse’s office, now.”
Ethan didn’t have the energy to argue. He trudged out of the classroom, grateful for an excuse to escape the lecture he wasn’t mentally prepared for.
When Ethan arrived at the nurse’s office, it was eerily quiet. The nurse—or rather, the doctor assigned to the school—was nowhere to be seen. A neatly made bed beckoned him like a siren’s call, and Ethan decided to take his chances. He collapsed onto it, not even bothering to take off his shoes.
He didn’t just fall asleep—he plummeted into unconsciousness. He didn’t even make it to the pillow before he was out cold, snoring softly in a way that would have been embarrassing if anyone else were around to hear it.
Ethan woke up to someone loudly clearing their throat. Blinking groggily, he looked up to see the school doctor standing over him, clipboard in hand. The doctor had the expression of someone debating whether they should scold him or diagnose him.
"Well," the doctor began, "you certainly don’t look like someone who came in for a routine checkup. Care to explain why you’re napping in my office during school hours?"
Ethan groaned. “The teacher sent me here. She thought I looked sick.”
The doctor’s brow furrowed as he scrutinized Ethan. “Sick? More like sleep-deprived. Let me guess—you’ve been burning the midnight oil?”
Ethan shrugged, unwilling to admit that he’d been grinding levels in a virtual fantasy world until the sun came up.
The doctor wasn’t convinced. “Fine. Let’s run a few tests just to be sure you’re not on the verge of keeling over.”
Ethan endured the tests, which mostly involved the doctor poking and prodding him, asking a few questions, and making notes. When it was over, the doctor sighed and delivered his verdict:
"Exhaustion. That’s what this is. Your blood pressure’s a bit low, and your energy reserves are practically nonexistent. If you don’t start taking care of yourself, you’re going to end up in a hospital bed instead of this office. My advice? Rest. And if this continues, go to a bigger hospital for a full checkup."
Ethan nodded, but internally, he was panicking. Bigger hospital? Rest? How was he supposed to grind his healer levels if he was busy following doctor’s orders?
“Thanks, Doc,” Ethan said quickly, grabbing his bag and standing up before the doctor could make any more recommendations.
"Wait—" the doctor began, but Ethan was already halfway to the door.
“Appreciate the concern!” Ethan called out over his shoulder as he bolted from the office.
The doctor shook his head, muttering something about teenagers being impossible to deal with. Meanwhile, Ethan felt like he’d dodged a bullet. Rest? Who had time for that when there were dungeons to conquer and levels to gain?
Ethan practically sprinted back to class, hoping to avoid another confrontation. He slid into his seat just as the teacher glanced up from the board, her eyes narrowing like a hawk spotting prey.
"Mr. Carter, back so soon?" she asked, skepticism laced in her voice.
"Yeah, the doc said I was fine," Ethan lied, slouching into his chair.
The teacher didn’t look convinced. In fact, she stared at him harder, her gaze moving over his pale skin, tired eyes, and the way his head seemed perilously close to dropping onto his desk.
"You look like death warmed over," she stated bluntly, causing a few students to snicker.
Ethan felt the tips of his ears burn. “I’m fine,” he mumbled, though he knew how unconvincing he sounded.
The teacher didn’t buy it. “I’m not having you pass out in my class, Mr. Carter. Go back to the nurse’s office.”
Ethan groaned, slumping further into his chair. He had just escaped from there, and the idea of going back felt like a bad joke. “I just came from there! He said I’m fine!”
The teacher crossed her arms, her expression firm. “If you’re fine, why do you look like you haven’t slept in a week?”
Ethan opened his mouth to protest but realized he didn’t have the energy to argue. Defeated, he grabbed his bag and stood up. “Fine. I’ll go.”
But halfway to the door, he stopped, an idea striking him. Turning back to the teacher, he asked, “Can I just go home instead? Clearly, I’m not welcome here or in the nurse’s office.”
The class fell silent, students turning to gawk at him. It wasn’t every day someone requested to go home right in the middle of a lecture.
The teacher blinked, clearly taken aback. “You want to go home?”
Ethan nodded. “Yeah. I’m clearly not fit for school today, right? So, let me go home and rest, like everyone keeps telling me to.”
For a moment, the teacher just stared at him, as if trying to decide whether he was being sarcastic or genuinely needed help. Finally, she sighed, reaching into her desk drawer for a hall pass. “Fine. Here’s your pass. Go home and get some rest, Carter. And don’t make a habit of this.”
Ethan took the pass, muttering a quick “thank you” before heading out the door.
As he walked through the empty hallways, he couldn’t help but feel a mix of relief and frustration. Sure, he was going home, but all the back-and-forth had been exhausting in itself. All he wanted now was to collapse onto his bed—or, more realistically, to log back into <b>Rebirth Online</b> and forget this day ever happened.