《Paradise Unto Us, Virtual》 Prologue: Mit-Han-Rou Prologue: Mit-Han-Rou Curtains hanging over the only window had ample amounts of light peeking through, just enough to distinguish day from night. Unfortunate neighbors who were able to catch a glimpse of my room hollered complaints and wariness for my well-being. Occasional visits from my only friend had him acting like an old man, lecturing me with proverbs and life advices, unsolicited. I understand what they¡¯re getting at¡­ but sometimes they tend to overreact to the smallest things. This apartment complex designated small rooms for its cheap price, and mine is incredibly habitable. Many cans of sodas and flavored drinks scatter around the floor, empty. Trash bags had piled themselves on top of a disposable trash can. Dusts covered empty shelves and drawers, lonely and distant of any figurines or belongings. There was a clear pathway from the door to my desktop, and to my diving-casket. That¡¯s all I need. Still¡­ to think that I sold most of my valuables to afford this. My miserable job at the local convenience barely made itself useful to this endeavor. Days in-and-out with costumers whom recognize my face was a terrible feeling. All the kids I grew up with in this town are probably living life to its fullest¡­ and here I am, doing whatever I can to scrape enough money for this machine. The diving-casket is an enormous capsule ranging from five to twelve feet, depending on the size order. My twin-sized bed, flat-screen t.v., coffee brewer, and family heirloom were barely enough to afford this. Through some networking with colleagues and friends from university, I managed to find one of affordable price. Me from years ago would¡¯ve sent a time-transcending punch full of reason and rationale if he found out. Too bad he wasn¡¯t there at the time of purchase. The flip-phone in my pocket vibrated. I took out the phone I procured from dumpster-diving and saw a text message from Tickie. One message after another assaulted the phone¡¯s vibration system. Skimming through those broken text messages revealed his intentions to party up in the extremely-hyped upcoming game, Paradise Unto Us. The only game to be able to take advantage of the diving-casket full-feedback system, or so netizens say. A VR-MMORPG that caters to role-players and hardcore enthusiasts. The upcoming launch is dated midnight today, and the previews and reviews of this second-life game is the epitome of fanaticism. Rumor has it that one has free control of many aspects of the game, as if it was real life. Reviewers who''ve experience the game left comments and anticipation of the game¡¯s unbelievable fidelity to realism and fantasy. People hunting monsters felt sensations similar to how they¡¯d imagine the intensity of the pain. In-game criminals caught by player-soldiers and player-guards were forced to wait in a cell, like they would if they were caught in real life. A tune of basic melody rang from my pocket. I picked it up, and awaited a mouthful of impetuousness. ¡°Why the hell didn¡¯t you respond to any of my texts?¡± Tickie shouted. ¡°I know you¡¯re there! You¡¯re not dead, yet! Freakin¡¯ respond to my messages next time, bastard!¡± Ah, Tickie. Sometimes I can¡¯t help but feel like he just wants me dead. It¡¯s over my head how we¡¯ve managed to stick together for so long, especially when we were antagonistic towards each other in Junior High and High School. Tickie isn¡¯t his real name; it¡¯s what I call him for being such an annoying tick to go after the same crush in our adolescent years. Eventually, our middle-school and high-school crush rejected both of our attempts, and we were back to being two lonely kids. Fate had a weird intention for us. We went to the same high school, joined the same club, and had the same classes and teachers. We spent a lot of time together, whether I liked it or not. University life was when our paths began to part¡­ and then serendipitous fate brought us back together. ¡°Say something¡­ Don¡¯t make me look weird.¡± Tickie whispered. ¡°My fianc¨¦ will think I¡¯m talking to myself.¡± I held back a chuckle. Where so many things have gone differently than I expected in my life, Tickie always seem to be able to persevere and get whatever he wants. Serves you right, Tickie. Learn to suffer like a normal person. I¡¯ll rub some misfortune onto you. Have my funeral bill when I¡¯m dead. ¡°Server¡¯s launching at 12:00 A.M., right?¡± I asked. Browsing the game¡¯s main website depicted a theme of olden days and fantasy. Visual effects that played into the fantasy theme appeared when I clicked on the game¡¯s ¡®About D.A.¡¯ page. Blocks of information regarding the game¡¯s gameplay, story, lore, and player¡¯s creativity filled my browser. It was a lot to take in but, many times, reading this isn¡¯t require to enjoy the game. It serves its purpose to flesh out the world, not to grade us on a test. ¡°Yes!¡± Tickie¡¯s enthusiasm shot through the roof. For him to show this much excitement is what I expected from someone that¡¯s been raving about the game since its teaser trailer. An opened letter sat on my desk, with my fingers tapping on it as Tickie continues to express his love for a game he hasn¡¯t played yet. ¡°Dear Mit-Han-Rou, Talking to you like this is a bit¡­ weird. How about grabbing a drink this afternoon to get things going again? It¡¯s been¡­ three years now, hasn¡¯t it? Let¡¯s talk about the second-life technology sometime again. And the new game that¡¯s coming out! If you¡¯re interested, I¡¯ll be eating at the same place we¡¯ve had lunch the day we met. This afternoon -- come! I promise I won¡¯t bail on the bills like the first time. <3 Yours truly, Anastasia.¡± Tickie¡¯s one-sided call grew louder and louder the more he realize that I wasn¡¯t particularly paying attention to him. ¡°Tonight, right? I¡¯ll see you then.¡± Abruptly ending the call had my phone spammed with more messages. Tickie relentlessly sent texts with a single letter over the course of multiple messages. ¡®Better be there!¡¯ was his final message, hilariously enough. Small trashes and trash bags littering the carpet made it difficult searching for the key to my apartment¡¯s door. Living alone made me complacent, even I can see that. But it isn¡¯t as bad as my neighbors made it out to be. I can eat here, I can sleep here, and the roof won¡¯t fall on top of me anytime soon. Sometimes, people just love to talk. After finding my key beneath a trash bag and taking my wallet from my desk, I left through the door to meet an old friend.Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon. On my way out of the apartment complex, Mr. Bijoux greeted me. The ever-so-kind elderly Asian man had a natural curl to his lips. Little amounts of springing, curly hair complimented his wrinkly face. A never-hurt-a-fly demeanor perfectly matched his appearance. ¡°Hello, Mr. Bijoux.¡± I greeted him respectfully. ¡°Please wait a little bit longer for this month¡¯s rent!¡± Mr. Bijoux waved at me, and continued to sit still and stare at the entrance of his apartment complex. I smiled back and left through the doors. It was sunny. Too sunny. I hate the sun. Any minute now I can feel my body begging to drench my clothes in sweat. Outward appearances comes second to regulating body heat, is what I like to think, but I can¡¯t show up today cover in sweat. It¡¯s not like I have much of a choice, though. Looking back at the apartment complex, I reached out my hand and thanked whatever genius created the air conditioner. We will only part for now. Please embrace me with your cold, shivering temperature tonight. Through those transparent doors Mr. Bijoux waved at me, again. I sheepishly waved back, and resumed to my destination. Apartment-hunting can be a real pain in the ass. Out of so many applications I¡¯ve sent to other affordable rents, he was the only one to take me in. Not only that, he also helped me moved in and situated myself. For that, I am incredibly grateful. It was hot. Too hot. I hate hot weather. Dryness of the air and the surging radiance of the sun may as well cook me on the spot, right here and now. The sheer brilliance of the sun had my eyes squinting for shade. With every breathe I take the humidity¡¯s icky-ness became one with me. My watery mouth became desperate; my tongue threaten to lick the dripping sweats that I can no longer control. Street names ran by, indifferently. I dragged my feet along with a blank mind. How anyone could live without air conditioners beats me. No one in their right mind would walk in such a torturing weather. Empty sidewalks couldn¡¯t agree more with me. ¡°MHR!¡± A familiar feminine voice called out to me in a name only very few known. I turned to the opposite street of me, disgruntled and pissed-off. There, Anastasia, in all her beauty, sat unabated by nature¡¯s wrath. A white parasol protected her from blinding rays. Shadows casted by the umbrella made the area underneath seem so cool and refreshing. Long, wavy hair that fell to her shoulder would have the heat dare them to cut it off. A glass of ice-cold water on her table was all I could focus on. Kill me. Slouching my way over there, I couldn¡¯t help but think that the air around her is any less different than it is around me. Granted, my black long-sleeve shirt and pants aren¡¯t fit for today, compare to her white sundress and expensive-looking dark blue hat. Perhaps her apparel has some sort of heat inhibitor she spent with all that money she carries around. ¡°MHR!¡± Anastasia smiled and pulled up a chair next to her. ¡°Are you dying?¡± ¡°Hi, yes.¡± I tried to fix my posture and sat up-right, but the hammering heat had other plans. ¡°Three long years¡­ and you¡¯ve really let yourself go!¡± Anastasia laughed while examining my protruding gut. Pinching my oblique had her yelping, as if she never touched her own fat before. ¡°¡­Time to diet?¡± ¡°You didn¡¯t send me an old-fashioned letter to talk about my health, did you?¡± I rhetorically asked. ¡°Hm¡­ right.¡± Anastasia took out thick documents of paper from her luxurious-branded purse and handed it to me. ¡°I didn¡¯t expect this kind of weather when I dropped off the letter this morning. Sorry.¡± Skimming through the pages revealed information about the upcoming game, the VR-MMORPG, Paradise Unto Us. The verbiage used in these documents catered to businessmen. Statistical probability of sales, short-term goals and long-term goals, marketing strategies, budgets, and roadmaps were the main points these papers went into depth about. Remarkably, I didn¡¯t expect the last line I read to be something implemented so soon: Deep-learning and neural networks coming together to blur the lines between players and NPCs. Anastasia anticipated my shock and grinned like she won a chess game. Certainly, I didn¡¯t expect technology to advance this fast. But to show me this¡­ ¡°I don¡¯t remember reading this on the game¡¯s website.¡± I said. ¡°Of course not.¡± She sipped on the ice-cold water. ¡°Ever since our college days I worked at C.R.U. as a researcher, and this is one of our leading projects. Players in our upcoming game won¡¯t be told explicitly, but they¡¯ll know from interactions with their surroundings.¡± ¡°Neat.¡± I said indifferently. Anastasia has always been keen on cognition, and loved the way our mentality comes into play with our daily lives. Unfortunately, she developed an odd quirk because of this. Reading people¡¯s mind and playing her own mental games was a compelling reason that dissuaded any suitors thus far. I¡¯ve warned her about this quirk of hers, and she couldn¡¯t be any more proud of herself for having it. Instead of expressing genuine happiness for her, I unenthusiastically clapped my hand so as to not stroke her ego more than it already had been. ¡°And that brings you, friend C--¡° ¡°--Hi.¡± ¡°--into this equation!¡± Anastasia crossed her arms with a pouty face, as if to say ¡®Don¡¯t interrupt me.¡¯ College girl friends of ours thought that if she learned to be more mindful of the way she handle herself, then finding a guy in her early twenties would be the easiest thing in her life. Years ago she wasn¡¯t adverse to intimate relationships; she was the most sought after of the girls with her once-in-a- millennium physical sculpture. But the more people learn about her, the more men drifted away from her. I beg to differ. If Anastasia were to be less Anastasia, I couldn¡¯t imagine our friendship lasting this long. ¡°What¡¯s wrong? Why are you staring at me?¡± Anastasia smirked, proudly presenting her shiny teeth. ¡°Have you fallen for me? After all these years, you have finally realize that there¡¯s no one else as gifted as I am, right?¡± ¡°Neat.¡± I unenthusiastically clapped my hand once more. These past three years¡­ how many people have stroke your ego? People sure can be dangerous. Philanthropists with a rich amount of good-will-currency freely hands out pleasantries and compliments, but here lies the problem. This monster here will gobble them all up with an infinite capacity. I doubt all the good and nice words in the English dictionary can fill her egotistical cosmos. ¡°Back on topic.¡± Anastasia pointed a finger at me. ¡°Mit-Han-Rou--¡° ¡°--Anastasia.¡± I pointed a finger back at her. ¡°--I want you to drop your job at the convenience store and contract with us!¡± The sudden announcement swept my face with astonishment. A contract with a big company would give me more opportunities to form social networks. If the pay is good, then I wouldn¡¯t have to worry about being behind on rent. However, such a thing would never work out. Finding an apartment and a job that¡¯d accept me despite my records was hard enough. There¡¯s a zero-percent chance the biggest VR-MMORPG publisher would even think about signing a contract with me. She should know this¡­ yet¡­ ¡°You¡¯re thinking that it wouldn¡¯t work out.¡± Anastasia lifted her chin to put on an almighty air. ¡°But before you presumptuously deny the opportunity, listen to what I have to say first.¡± Before I could even said a word, she started talking about what the job entails. If I do contract with C.R.U., it would be as an agent to further richen the experience of their main product. Specifically, the job would be to take the helm and become one of Paradise Unto Us¡¯ dungeon master. To further blur the lines between NPCs and real-life players, Anastasia¡¯s team wanted to place a carefully selected amount of candidates into the game and collect data on whether or not people can discern the difference between their newly-developed AIs and human experience. There are really gung-ho about making this launch title the best VR-MMORPG out on the market. ¡°So¡­ what would I do?¡± I asked. ¡°Shoo players away from my dungeon? Place a go-away picket sign, so people won¡¯t bother me?¡± ¡°Nope.¡± Anastasia shook her head. ¡°I want you to show me¡­ How would you live a second life if you were given the chance?¡± I wasn¡¯t exactly sure what she meant by that, but I couldn¡¯t help my eyes from widening and my mouth from dropping. Not even the savage heat could distort those words so clearly. Dropping my crappy job for this¡­ To start anew -- a fresh and clean slate, with no smears on my record¡­ A second chance at life¡­ A burning passion erupted from inside. The sudden rush of adrenaline had me wanting to kick the air, punch a training bag, or do whatever it takes to expend all of this rush of emotions. Looking into Anastasia¡¯s blue, confident eyes had me all the more reassured. She wasn¡¯t joking; the opportunity is real, only if I would grab it. I don¡¯t know what else to say. How could I thank her? An once-in-a-lifetime opportunity and I can¡¯t even manage to find the words to express my gratitude. ¡­Thank you? ¡­I¡¯ll do anything for you? Various words to express gratitude popped up in my mind, but none of them had the level -- the intensity -- I wanted. Phrases of all kinds clustered together, making everything a huge headache to select. My mouth was open, but the words wouldn¡¯t come out. Anastasia held a calm smile, reached into the stack of papers she handed to me, and took out a single sheet that required a signature. Placing a pen next to my shaking hands, she patiently smiled at me. Thank you, truly, Anastasia. I couldn¡¯t manage to find my voice, but a fallen tear cemented my feelings as I wrote my signature. Chapter 1: Mocupokko-Reccu RubMe Chapter 1: Mocupokko-Reccu Rub¡¯Me The air conditioner fixed in my room embraced my almost-naked body as I walked out of a freezing, cold shower. It was set to fifty-five-degree Fahrenheit -- a balance I found to be the most efficient between living in a cold climate and not getting my butt kicked out by the landlord. Pushing and weaving through the land mines of empty cans of sodas and trash bags littering the ground had me on my tippy-toes. Soreness wasn¡¯t a big deal, especially when I factor in the pain of stepping on one of these little devils. The officer chair creaked a little bit once my body heaved itself onto it. Spinning the chair around, I assumed the best relaxing positon possible: knees at the base of the chair and my entire upper body slouching over the backrest of the chair. Sticking my butt out and leaning forward, I carefully balance and situated myself by shifting the weight of my lower body. With the air conditioner breezing at my naked back, there¡¯s only one thing I have to say: this is pure bliss. My flip-phone sitting on a black-painted wooden desk vibrated. Unlike Tickie, it only occurred once. Anastasia was the sender this time, and with a big, formal block of text at 11:06 P.M.: ¡°Hey, Mit-Han-Rou! This is Anastasia here, so be sure to save my number! I¡¯m glad you¡¯ve accepted my offer, but oh boy, the hours spent on finalizing all of the paperwork was really time consuming! These kinds of stuff are needed to protect both parties legally and validate their interactions, so I¡¯m happy we¡¯ve got that done with. Welcome to the team! : D The game will launch at midnight tonight -- an hour from this message -- and please be careful to not game too long; take a break every now and then! Your account and in-game avatar had been created and personalized by yours truly! Because this is part of work, physical customization and home selection has already been chosen for you by my team and the game department. Your account had to be created pre-launch so we can link it to our database under special criterions and permissions. But your experience to other players will very much be the same, mostly; you¡¯ll start at level one, earn experience points, level up, accept quests, increase stat-points, etc. Really, the only difference is that you¡¯ll serve as a pivotal device to add immersion and flavor to the world and other people¡¯s experience. There¡¯s really no strict rules on how to run a dungeon, nor are there any demands made by C.R.U.; don¡¯t worry too much about what you should or shouldn¡¯t do. So, show me the paradisiacal dream you talked about three years ago! I¡¯ve also created a personal assistant -- all by myself on my own time -- to aid in your dungeon. I won¡¯t spoil too much, but I will say this: She¡¯ll help you out, so be patient with her. Treat her like a person. I¡¯ve poured a gigantic amount of time into her, in both character design and game system, so I¡¯m really eager to see how she grows as a person! Anyways, have fun! Let¡¯s meet again sometimes. P.S: I¡¯ll drop off some more paperwork I need you to fill out, in the near future. It¡¯s like the second form of a boss fight, so be on the lookout! : S¡± Paperwork, paperwork, and more paperwork! At this point I can¡¯t even think. Signing all of the tax forms and the non-disclosure agreement was just mind-numbingly boring. The last few hours were spent on discussing the terms of our contract and the legality of those terms. Being out of study for so long, I needed her help in understanding many of the things I read. The difficulty of business and law language slowed the process to a snail-pace. Anastasia came fully prepared to inform me of the job¡¯s description and to get my signature on the spot. It was a horrendous day to go outside¡­ but I¡¯m happy I did it. Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock. The digital clock on my desktop wouldn¡¯t budge, despite how hard I stared at it. Entering given credentials into the login-screen of the main website redirected me to a pop-up window with my name on it. The text ¡®Successfully linked to the full-feedback diving-casket version 1.0¡¯ appeared, highlighted with a green border. My in-game avatar sat underneath the border, in its cutesy-chibi sixteen-bit form. Below my avatar was a statistical table containing information of my in-game stats.
ID: Mit-Han-Rou Class: Peasant
Title: Dungeon Master
STR 1 HP 50/50 Level 1
INT 1 MP 1/1 next LEV 20
WIS 1
CON 1 EXP 0 A.EXP 0The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there. Ascension 0
DEX 1 GOLD 0 GP 0 next Ac. 0
STR, INT, WIS, CON, DEX traditionally refers to strength, intelligence, wisdom, constitution, and dexterity, respectively. Health points, mana points, the experience box, and the gold box were intuitive enough. What had me puzzled were the A. EXP, GP, Ascension, and next Ac. boxes. I turned my attention to the forums in hopes of discovering its meaning. It was 11:36 P.M. and the forums were blowing up! Every time I clicked onto the next page of a post, a few more pages were created! The response time of the webpage increased as the seconds went by; it took longer to load a page as midnight awaits us. The net¡¯s infamous hug-of-death had descended onto the main website¡¯s forum, but that¡¯s not enough to stop me. I¡¯m well-equipped with multiple spare mouse to unleash a thousand clicks onto the refresh button! Dedicated posts speculating the game¡¯s feature and system¡¯s mechanics were well-written like they were writing a thesis for their Ph.D. Not much concrete information about the game¡¯s underlying bodywork had been release, but that didn¡¯t stop fans from dissecting reviews and teaser trailers. Frames from trailers and reviews were screenshotted and used as a frame-of-reference to speculate the game¡¯s mechanics and system dynamic. Taking note of time discrepancy netizens figured out skills and spells cost-usage seen in trailers and reviews. Speculations on classes ran wild, especially now when everyone¡¯s trying to find a class they want to begin with. All the game¡¯s website told us was a vague and general description of what we could become, not what there is available. The Sherlocks of our time analyzed videos of the released trailers and reviews, and came to the conclusion that there were five main classes: Wizard, Priest, Warrior, Monk, and Rogue. However, this Sherlock met an adversary -- a James Moriarty -- that attacked his points, saying that videos of a person wielding a sword doesn¡¯t mean that they¡¯re a ¡®warrior¡¯; or that people using spells are a ¡®wizard.¡¯ Both offered compelling and sound arguments shot-after-shot; one based on traditional MMORPGs systems, and the other based on the lack of information presently available. My phone vibrated once more, and then multiple times thereafter. Expectedly, it was none other than Tickie. I don¡¯t have unlimited text messages and calls, asshole. Compiling all the messages once my phone rested led to ¡®I can¡¯t play tonight! My dumb fianc¨¦ wants to spend time together with her parents before they leave the state. HELP ME. HELLLLLLLP!¡¯ Smiling at his predicament, I sent a text that read, ¡®Tell her you have an emergency to handle tonight. Come over to my place, I¡¯ll let you use my diving-casket. We can switch every now and then.¡¯ Minutes pass as the clock ticked closer to midnight. Another wave of assailants had my phone whimpering. Tickie, in a sad and reluctant tone, sent me another message: "I can¡¯t. She dragged me into the car and now she¡¯s mad. This is not consensual. NOT. CONSENSUAL. I¡¯m looking at her now. I can see it in her eyes. She" The sudden cut-off had me oddly agitated. She¡­? The clock hit 11:54 P.M., and I haven¡¯t heard from Tickie since then. She¡­ what? Tickie, TELL ME! SHE WHAT?! Unable to hold my laughter, I sent him one last text that wished him the best of luck. Meeting Anastasia today, acquiring a new job, and reading Tickie¡¯s cry for help made this evening unforgettable. I¡¯d never thought my life could be so¡­ exhilarating. It¡¯s still odd for me to think that my life -- at the age of twenty-two -- could actually be fun, and not miserable. Climbing into the six-feet-long and four-feet-wide diving-casket, I situated myself comfortably -- a smile crept upon my face as I felt the air conditioner¡¯s magic wrapping around my half-naked body. Weight sensors in the diving-casket automatically closed the opening from where I climbed in. A crescent-shaped apparatus of the machine ran from head-to-toe, shining an infrared beam. A helmet attached to many wires descended from a hole and onto my head. This device was most likely the culprit responsible for electroencephalography, a function of the full-feedback diving-casket (FFDC) technology that contributes to in-game sensory feedback. I lowered the curtains on my eyes and calmed my mind. It¡¯s time to live my second life. A very brief blink had me in a stupor. Butterflies in my tummy had my body feeling light. Opening my eyes, I finally understood the meaning of photo-realism. The environment around me was unbelievably picture-perfect. Lushes, swaying green grasses encapsulated the land I¡¯m on. Blue sky and scarce clouds made the chilling breeze ever-so-welcome. Large, green forestry flanked the roads that connected to the giant circular land of stone I¡¯m on. Blue beams of light softly illuminated from the cracks and crevices of the circular land. In front of me was a giant apparatus with four rings, not interlink, floating on top of a five-feet-high crystal pillar. The outermost ring spun diagonally, the third ring spun horizontally, the second ring spun vertically, and the inner-ring spun sporadically in all direction. And at the center of all of those rings was a concentration of blue, spectral energy, dormant. Traces of lingering orbs around it suggested that it was recently active. The only other being here, next to me, was an overtly sexualize compilation of data -- a bodacious petite of similar height facing away from me. Looking to my right was a perfectly sculpted person that won the genetic lottery. Even at this angle I could already tell this was Anastasia¡¯s magnum opus. Long, straight hair dyed in an ink-black color to further bring out her pristine, smooth skin to a spotlight. Small section of braided hair near her right ear had excesses tucked behind it, bringing the ear to more attraction. She tilted her head sideways and looked back at me. Those set of silver eyes and dark, thick eyelashes complimented her sculpted nose with small, parted lips teasing a set of pearl teeth. ¡°Huh?¡± A quiet sound escaped her mouth as she noticed me. Leather light-brown trench coat in hand, she turned her body to me in a daring outfit. A pair of opaque white thigh-highs ran up to her white-and-black plaid mini-skirt. A small, provocative section of bare skin was left untouched between the two. Finishing her apparel was a crisp and clean white dress shirt with her sleeves rolled up -- unbuttoned at the top to reveal her yearning collarbone and enough exposure to hint at her breasts. ¡°You are...¡± She raised an eyebrow and smirked, easy to be confused with a sexual gaze. I¡¯m not at all surprise if this is the person Anastasia designated to meet me. Other than loving the hell out of mental cognition, her second favorite thing in life is sex. Or, rather, she has an unbelievable devotion to depict her characters in sexually evocative illustrations. ¡°Call me Mit-Han-Rou.¡± I looked around the area for some sort of mirror, or any source of reflection to look at my face. ¡°Your name?¡± ¡°Mocupokko-Reccu Rub¡¯Me¡± She answered in all seriousness and courteously bowed. I turned away and cupped my mouth, but the surging laughter broke through my fragile defense. Anastasia had been heavily inspired by anime aesthetics, and so she adopted a lot of its culture. Though, to think my dungeon assistant has such a ridiculous name made it all the more difficult to take this seriously. She mentioned that this creation was separate of her team¡¯s work, and it really shows. I''d expect nothing less from one of the best illustrators in our world. ¡°Do you think that¡¯s funny?¡± She wore her trench coat over her dress shirt, then brought her hands up. Fists were formed with glaring eyes aimed at me. ¡°Goddess Anastasia said she¡¯d send someone to help me defend this place. But even then, I refuse to allow you to laugh at my divine name bestowed upon by The Perfect One.¡± Kill me. Now. I fell to the ground and curled into a fetal position. Burst of laughter came in waves that dominated my body. Trying to breathe only let out more sounds that made her frown maddening. Letting my body go full-loose, I rolled on the ground in a fit of laughter. A goddess? Seriously, Anastasia, there¡¯s no one in the world that would even dare to challenge your ego. Mocupokko-Reccu Rub¡¯Me towered over me, fists clenched, and a pair of black and leather ankle boots on the brink of destruction. Parted lips revealed her clenched teeth that struggled to restrains its wrath. Even through the uncontrollable squint in my eyes I could see how terrible the trouble I¡¯m causing her. I reached out a hand in need of saving. She gripped my hand with a force of a mountain and tugged me upward. Kicking my shin with her black boots overrode my joyous moments. In place of it was an aching pain that had me back on the ground, clutching my shins in desperate need to dial 9-1-1. ¡°Ah~¡± I blew a stomach-full of air through my clenched teeth. ¡°I needed that. Sorry. Really sorry.¡± ¡°Goddess Anastasia did warn me about you¡­¡± She crossed her arms and turned a shoulder to me. ¡°It wasn¡¯t all your fault.¡± ¡°Can I call you Reccu?¡± I reached out an apologetic hand, although it was moot because the distance grew larger as she walked away from me. ¡°Sure.¡± She tilted her head back with parted lips, yet the odd angle formed an astonishingly priceless picture. Chapter 2: Run! Sprint! Soar! Fly! ...Monk! Chapter 2: Run! Sprint! Soar! Fly! ¡­Monk! Upon inquiry of the crystal pillar in front of me, Reccu stated that it served as a transportation device. The object itself is a mystery, however its functionality serves as the dungeon¡¯s home base, according to her. The ability to teleport directly to this base can only be used by those of sufficient importance to the dungeon. She explained that we were both designated as this dungeon¡¯s master, but Goddess Anastasia granted the power to bestow its name only to me. ¡°Shangri-La.¡± I answered. ¡°Shangri-La¡­¡± Reccu raised a finger and wrote the name onto the crystal pillar. A shimmering light traced her fingers movement, merging the inscription into the rock. With her finger resting at her side, the four rings floating above the crystal pillar frantically rotated. Illumination from the crevices surged upwards, concentrating into the spectral of energy at the center of those rings. Settling at its core, the rings spiraled faster; the once discernable rings blurred into a magnificent sight to behold. Hundreds of small balls of energy from the core burst outwards into a curving trajectory that chipped away at the crystal pillar. It ate away at the crystals and its excessive stone fat. Hints of a small marble stone glimmering in a mystical blue coat peeked through as the process came to a finish. One final burst of concentrated spectral energy shot to the sky, detaching into many other smaller spectral energies. All flew in its own direction, as if flying to a designated position to deliver a message. The rings gradually slowed to a stop. The heated energy fell to a slumber. With the marble stone fully fleshed out, Reccu traced her fingertip to spell ¡®Shangri-La¡¯ once more. A soft mist emerged from the pillar and flew into her very essence. The marble pillar oozed of magical energy, spilling into the crevices of the stone ground as once before. ¡°It¡¯s done.¡± Reccu sighed, and stepped back with a smile on her face. ¡°Incredible¡­¡± A single word escape my lips, but it hardly did it any justice. The entire event was akin to a mastery magic show of lights. Capturing it on video could never deliver the same experience that I just had; these kinds of monumental experiences have to be witnessed live. Reccu turned to me and mentioned that it¡¯s partially functional now. The ability to teleport to home base has been activated. Touching any interconnected warp portal and saying ¡®Temuair / Chrysalis / Legend / Shangri-La¡¯ was all it took to be transported back here. In a heavy and solemn tone, she stated that sharing the keyword was restricted only to the most trusted and loyalist people. Proper procedure was to do an unspoken, mental incantation after making physical contact with a warp portal. It was a lot of information to take in all at once, but I thanked her nevertheless. Keywords, warp portals, incantations, and absolute secrecy¡­ I¡¯ll have to keep those in mind. Now with that all done Reccu probe my intentions and directions for the dungeon. Suggestions such as a proper defense or some sort of trap were offered. Times and dates of the construction process was brought up. Possibility of environmental advantages were brought into the discussion as well. ¡°Not at this moment.¡± I shook my head. ¡°There¡¯s nothing worth protecting here, yet. If someone manages to steal this warp portal, then we should be able to teleport to its location and take it back, right?¡± ¡°Yes¡­¡± Reccu nodded. ¡°Warp portals are priceless, but that¡¯s because they can only be activated once. If they find out this one has already been activated¡­ they probably won¡¯t take it. Then, what should we do?¡± ¡°Our Shangri-La will be the best sight this world has to offer.¡± I smiled at her. ¡°But we have to take careful steps to get there. At the basis of them all is information and power. I need to learn more about the world, both major and minor details. We¡¯ll be the pillars of our paradise, so we have to work hard to be strong as well.¡± ¡°The best¡­ I like that.¡± Reccu energetically leaped forward, and pointed at me. ¡°I don¡¯t know everything there is to know about Temuair, but if we have to get stronger then, first, let¡¯s choose your Path!¡± ¡°Path?¡± I looked at the ground, confused. ¡°You¡¯re a peasant, aren¡¯t you?¡± Reccu held a mocking grin. ¡°There¡¯s definitely zero-chance you can do anything the way you¡¯re now. Let¡¯s go to the nearest city and get you acquainted with a master.¡± So that¡¯s what she meant. I remember reading ¡°Class: Peasant¡± from the character information screen on my desktop. If she calls ¡®Class¡¯ as ¡®Path,¡¯ then it¡¯s highly likely that there are more terms that differ between in-game and real-life. Agreeing to her suggestion, Reccu jaunted onto the north-east road, one of the many roads connected to the warp portal. Tall full-of-life trees flanked the sides of the dirt road. Lots of debris from natural erosion and loose grass held a knife to the only road in sight; this particular road wasn¡¯t well-maintained or used a lot, evident by nature overtaking a quarter of the space available. Despite the quality of the road the shades provided by massive trees and the occasional chilly breeze made the journey refreshing. As we walked, I asked her about the various daily activities she partook in and hobbies she has. My voice was met with quietness and a jog into a frisk pace. The distance between us grew large, and evidently, I found myself having to put in effort to keep up. A glance back exposed a playful smirk, daring me and challenging me, as if asking, ¡®Can you stay on my tail?¡¯ Abandoning the idea of a relaxing walk, the sudden increase of our speed was no less than a marathon. We ran and jump, regardless for the quality and condition of our clothes. Our appearances, unseemingly or not, held no spot in our minds. With all my might I was able to retain the gap between us, but no longer had a surplus of agility to shorten the gap. Climbing, jumping, and gliding from tree-to-tree had us on a detour. The road was still in view, but that came second to the race that we¡¯ve uphold.The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation. This¡­ is exhilarating! No longer am I bounded by unhealthy lifestyle choices. Through the pressing of the wind against my body, I could see how lean I was compared to real-life. The adrenaline in my body screamed more and more. Memories of track and cross-country played in my mind, telling the story of a life in high-school. Run! Sprint! Soar! Fly! The rush of wind combed through my hair. The ever-changing scenery stole my breath. My body was so fluffy and floaty as I traced Reccu¡¯s tail. All the fun I¡¯m having had me rediscovering appreciation for a palate I¡¯ve long lost: the nectar of nature. Travelers on the road, caravans hauling cargos, and workers working through the day all heard a melody of innocent laughter. Their eyes caught a glimpse of two competitors with an unbelievable happiness about them, seemingly from running. Joyous mirth flew out of the forest and into green, open plains with many interconnected roads. Their genuine amusement caught eyes of everyone they passed, up to an enormous stone wall that spread to the horizon. Persisting chuckles had spectators affected by their smile, naturally curving their own lips. It was a sight to behold -- in a life of hardships and troubles, just seeing how the two of them can be so genuinely happy made them hopeful. Their festive melodious laughter came to an end, leaving behind one final message: Life is worth living. Reccu fell onto the bottom of her trench coat, gasping for air with her head tilted high. Swaying left and right, her hair danced to a gentle gust of wind. Droplets of sweat watered the ground. Heaving in a stomach-full of air, she exhaled, satiated. Some people say beauty lies within the eyes of the beholder. I think they haven¡¯t personally witness something that could be universally beautiful. I collapsed onto the road in front of an open giant gate with soldiers stationed on both sides. My heart pounded so loudly that I may just enter into a state of heart-attack. Breathless, and desperate for air, my mouth refused to shut-tight. Reccu glanced at me, and I looked back. Nothing could¡¯ve wiped the smile on our faces as we helped each other stand tall. *** Entering the city was free, and without any bodily checks by the guards. The bustling noise of the streets inaccurately depicted the density of the crowd. Roads in the city were oversaturated with all kinds of folks: impoverish beggars, merchants, vendors, caravans, and cheaply-adorned adventurers were a droplet in a puddle. Shop workers routinely added liveliness to the road; blacksmiths hammered away, merchants bargained for cheaper prices, inn-keepers kicked and shouted patrons out of their business. Caravans and cargoes retained most of the road, and pedestrians paid careful attention to their belongings as they went about their everyday lives. At the center of the magnificent city was a warp portal that was magnitudes larger than the one at our dungeon. It was the tallest obstacle in view, saved for the ginormous castle wall that was elevated in the northern section of the city. This was probably the busiest place of them all. Constant orbs of light spawned beings that resembled humans. The majority of them were equipped with a ragged T-shirt, uninspiring pants, and worn footwear -- just like me. Peasantry came to mind, but there were also sprinkles of variety mixed within the massive crowd; Warriors geared in sword-and-shield appeared, magical users in robe-and-hat held staves and wand, and scarves-mask wearers held bows and daggers. A bulletin board half the height of the warp portal displayed useful geographical information of the city. The map was large -- easy-to-see given its elevation. An X marked the center of the map to inform viewers of their current location. Map symbols -- a legend -- decorated the bulletin board with all kinds of symbols, denoting the location in respect to the X marked at the center. The bulletin board wasn¡¯t static; it changed periodically: from an overview of the map, to different enlarged sections of the map, and then to advertisements of various stores and schools. One advertisement was especially eye-catching, with its bolded text and rule-of-cool graphics. The content of the advertisement appealed to the Monk path, which adventurers can freely advance to. It dared adventurers with a catching phrase: ¡®Harmony with nature. Become tranquil and be at peace. The land is dormant, waiting for you to control it.¡¯ Needless to say, I was sold. I was more than sold. Reccu let out an indecent yelp as I suddenly grabbed her hand and dashed to ¡®Suomi¡¯s Dojo of Cail.¡¯ Arriving at the Suomi¡¯s Dojo of Cail, shouts of ¡®HAH¡¯ and ¡®CHAH¡¯ were rambunctious. Their unison roars pierced the wooden wall of the eastern-inspired architectural building. Ascending a small flight of wooden stairs, we slid the door open, and there -- a carefully orchestrated show was on display. The teacher had massive bulks of muscles, impressively and thoughtfully grown to provide strength, yet not to hinder movement. Shouting, punching, and kicking -- barefooted and barehanded -- in front of him were hundreds of people in single-color Doboks -- an eastern-inspired loose-fitting garment that maximizes movement with decent protection. They were in a rhythmic sync -- choreographed with the beat of their breaths. ¡°Do you wish to be at harmony with nature?¡± A man approached us with both hands clasped behind his back. Bald headed and half-naked, the man boasted lean muscles with chains of bead around his neck and wrist. ¡°Yes!¡± I immediately answered. The brother Monk guided us to a separate room, where the shouts of the practitioners could still be heard. A large chest sat to the side of the only other two significant items in the room. One white circular pillow laid at the center of the room, with another white pillow facing it. Sitting down on top of it, the disciple clasped his hand and gestured me to do the same. Complying with his gesture, I sat down, clasped my hand, and bowed just as he bowed to me. ¡°To walk this Path is to forsake the desire of your Earthly Tethers.¡± The disciple spoke with his eyes closed. ¡°To walk this Path means that you will forsworn valor, wealth, and envy. Harmony is what you seek -- searching for beauty in nature is what you desire. Your hands and feet opens the gate to nature¡¯s deepest. Leave them free; uninhibited by materialistic desire. Do you wish to walk the Path of Cail and his allies?¡± I discarded the boots on my feet and laid my hands on the ground. With a bow, I said, ¡°Yes.¡± The disciple opened his eyes, walked over to the chest, and procured a white Dobok. Presenting it to me, he said, ¡°Welcome, brother.¡± ¡°Thank you, brother.¡± I gratefully accepted his gift and stood up. ¡°May you find harmony.¡± The disciple stood up and made his way to the door. Reccu gave me a proud slap-on-the-back and cheered for my success. Oddly, the disciple didn¡¯t offer Reccu the same proposition he offered to me. Before he slid the door open, I quickly called out to him, respectfully. ¡°Brother, my friend would also like to join.¡± The disciple turned around and clasped his hand. ¡°She has already chosen a different Path. One who does not walk the Path of Cail, or his allies, cannot aspire to be a Monk. If you wish to forsaken your deity, please do so within your tradition. Cail will always accept you, if you wish so in the future.¡± Reccu reassured that she wasn¡¯t here for herself. Forcing the new outfit onto me, she sized me up-and-down, nodding at my exposed physiques. Circling around me had me a bit nervous, but I stood still nevertheless. ¡°Okay!¡± She smiled. ¡°Now that you¡¯re not such a weakling anymore, let¡¯s see which one of us is stronger!¡± Chapter 3: Teachings of a Monk Chapter 3: Teachings of a Monk ¡°Public usage of the dojo¡¯s ground won¡¯t be open until noon.¡± The disciple informed. ¡°Please wait until then if you wish to spar here.¡± ¡°Then¡­ tonight! Near midnight!¡± Reccu grinned. ¡°You¡¯ve got until then to learn whatever skills and spells they¡¯ll teach you.¡± Eagerness curved the corners of her lips upwards. Those sparkling eyes had an annoying confidence to them, the same ones predetermined winners would have. To slap away any post-fight excuses she remained adamant of the match¡¯s time. ¡°I¡¯m being generous here, so take this fight seriously. Got it?¡± Reccu leaned closer to my ear. ¡°And I mean really, really seriously.¡± A portentous and solemn tone whispered into my ears, suppressed of any sense of familiarity or companionship; like a devil wishing ¡®Good night¡¯ before closing the coffin, permanently. Before leaving the room she notified that her time spent until then would be use gathering information that could be of use in our agenda. After instructing me to remain here and train, she left the dojo without looking back. Listening to our conversation captivated the disciple¡¯s attention. He turned to me and said, ¡°The body is the first gate to be at peace. A mind that cannot control the body will not be able to walk past the first gate. Shall we begin, brother?¡± ¡°Yes, brother.¡± I bowed and clasped my hand. The disciple left through the door, and I followed behind. ¡®CHA¡¯ and ¡®HAH¡¯ roared throughout the halls of the dojo. Hundreds of students in their respective bodok were eye-candy to what body dedication can be capable of. I¡¯ve never witnessed such cohesion before. The teacher punched, and they punched as well. He kicked, and they kicked as well. With a formidable display of balance, the teacher flipped into the air and landed on one foot, then flipped into the air again and landed on the other foot. Even if I expected it, the fact that all of the students attempted his final moves still had me in awe. Some fell onto their toes as they descended, and others didn¡¯t carry enough momentum in their flip; but they¡¯ve all performed with humility. The disciple walked on, indifferently, into a hall that extended to the courtyard¡¯s door inside the dojo. Portraits of a bald-headed monk in different Dobok colors lined throughout the hallway. First was white, then green, blue, yellow, purple, brown, red, and finally, black. It was the portrait of a monk with a fierce and hungry power expression at the beginning. As each portrait progressed, his very nature became softer and calmer. Rage, resentment, and bitterness transitioned to courageous, determination, serenity, and tranquility. Then¡­ the last portrait had him in a black Dobok, meditating, cross-legged. Tranquility and serenity¡­ The portraits didn¡¯t contain a plaque, or anything containing words; they were voiceless. Yet, even without an explicit word, all I could think of when I looked at the last picture was¡­ harmony. That monk found himself in tune with nature. ¡°This is the First Sabonim, one of very few to know harmony.¡± The disciple informed as he neared the doorway to the backyard. Opening the door of the courtyard revealed a massive pond encircled by eight large stones. White, green, blue, yellow, purple, brown, red, and black colors uniquely marked each stone. Not only were there practitioners inside the dojo, but they could also be seen here. Many of them were in groups of threes or fours, sparring and lecturing. Vociferous roars from inside the dojo didn¡¯t seem to bother them; their spars or lectures progressed smoothly onwards. Waiting besides a white circle-marked stone, he clasped his hand behind his back and awaited my elevation. ¡°Please stand on here. Keep your eyes closed at all times, and let my voice guide you, brother. First, we will learn Bhuail Tusail¡± As per his instruction I stood with both feet extended, wide apart, and closed my eyes. Afterwards, I clenched my hand with my palm facing the sky, and resting it at the side of my hips. Being told to imagine a ghost-like figure in front of me was easy; all I had to do was think of Tickie and his big, dumb head. That perfect-sized forehead of his had ¡®HIT ME¡¯ written all over it. ¡°HAH!¡± Fully extending my right arm made an uneasy sound, one of which you¡¯d expect I¡¯d be running to the doctors for. In the short time span that my arm reached its maximum length, a slight disconnection of my elbow sunk my heart deep down into the pit of my stomach. Incorporeal Tickie laughed at my pitiful sight. The disciple immediately reprimanded my bad posture, ordering me to do it again. Resuming a horse stance, I lowered my body to mid-height and struck again. Bad luck seemed to be following me around -- my left elbow rung a distinctly similar sound like before. Mercilessly, he shouted for me to do it again. I fired my right fist as instructed, but this time I didn¡¯t lock my elbow to prevent injury. The disciple¡¯s merciless tone shifted to one of acceptance. ¡°Good! Do not fully extend your arms; you¡¯ll only injure yourself and leave an opening.¡± However, in just a quick second, he was back to being overbearing. Firing strike-after-strike made his voice louder, albeit every succession required more strikes than the previous. Mindlessly following the brother¡¯s instruction seemed to work; the punches I threw had a slight whistle to them. Except¡­ the motion was odd and awkward. These strikes made my body agitated and stiff. It was uncomfortable with the restricted motions of my movement. Hollering at me to repeat the attack, I complied and launched several similar attacks -- on his cue -- that only made the distress worse. Stiffen muscles inhibited my ideal punch, making it sway and miss my target. I may anger my instructor, but my tolerance was at its limit. ¡°Strike!¡± The disciple ordered. Twisting my hips and leaning with my shoulder I aimed at Tickie¡¯s big forehead. It went three inches passed his forehead. Probably would¡¯ve been enough to cause a concussion if there was real matter. ¡°Yes!¡± The disciple cheered. ¡°The mind and body must work together as one. Listen to the body, and listen closely. Feel it. Hear it. Think what it needs and what you can do to help it.¡± Now, his instructions became the very one I just performed. Repeating the strikes and following his advice made my body accustomed to the movement and motion of the swings. Swinging at the tempo of his voice felt similar to that of a dance; there was a distinctive action to every beat, passive and active. The level of my understanding of the attack continued to grow, but not at a booming rate as before. Knees lightly quivering and arms begging to slouch, my fists could no longer find its target. I punched once more in the same fashion as before. Nerves ran wild, messaging my brain to loosen all muscles and rest. There was this irritating tick that I couldn¡¯t mend -- a consistent nagging tugged at every fiber of muscles in my body. Imprecise swings began to show signs of enervation. Holding on for just a few more seconds, I reversed the motion of the punch and launched the other arm.Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. One more time! Similar to before, a near popping experience of my elbow made me light-hearted. Careless overextension of my arm launched all the momentum in my body over the stone, and toppling me to the ground. Grasses and dirt smooched my white Dobok, leaving behind a seemingly day-gone-wrong. Tasting the strands of grass and dirt wasn¡¯t pleasant, nor did it bode well. Acidic juices laid dormant within my stomach, threatening to jump out if I so much as move a muscle. ¡°Brother, magnificent performance.¡± My instructor congratulated with a broad smile. ¡°You have understand the basis for Bhuail Tusail. There are many variants of this attack that produces different result, but they all start here.¡± I rolled over like the lazy log that I am, and raised the lids to my eyes upon hearing his voice. Dusk greeted me with its elegant and warm smile. Just as I tried to wave at the settling sun, a strong urge to puke commanded my mouth to close the gate, tightly. My cheeks ballooned as acidic juices swarmed across my throat and poured into my mouth. I gulped hard, and aired the sour smell from my mouth. Never would I thought a game could, and would, replicate reality this much. The disciple laughed warmingly, and walked off to a nearby vending machine. It seemed that my mentality isn¡¯t used to such activities, regardless of the lean body I¡¯m in. Years have passed since I even entertained the thought of physical activity. All that awaited me were strenuous muscles, and minutes of playing dead on the ground. The intolerable heat in my neighborhood didn¡¯t basked the idea in an appetizing light, either. Days of standing still at the cashier, physically exhausted, made physical activity even less of a desire. But¡­ with this refreshing air and manageable temperature¡­ I remembered the satisfaction that can only be achieved by putting in a hundred-and-ten-percent effort. I was tired -- beyond tired -- but I couldn¡¯t stop my face from carrying this proud smile. It felt wonderful. Tilting my head sideways revealed the other practitioners in the dojo giving their all. Their shouts gradually grew on me; it wasn¡¯t a bother or a distraction anymore. They held a methodic and rhythmic feel to their choreography. One action flowed to another, smoothly and unhindered, like their mind and body were one of the same. I didn¡¯t dare blink at their enchanted play. There was this mysterious attraction to the naturalness of their movement: if one limb extended, the rest of the body will accommodate in a push-and-pull manner; and the transitions of their center-of-gravity was so seamless. Relaxation began with their posture, when they assumed their stance. Tension was the highest at the end, with the release of their energy into an impact. Breathing was so in-sync with their body that it played an integral role. Through observations of my glued eyes I saw what I could only describe as a ghosting effect. They all moved in unison as hundreds of people could, while holding a plethora of different outlooks. Anger, sorrow, contempt, confidence -- eyes of different properties stared at something completely invisible and individual to each person. Their teacher was in front of them, teaching them and cueing them when to strike, but none even glanced at him. All of their eyes were stuck on something incorporeal, something not of this world -- but it was there -- they can see it. Breathing, focus, rhythm, relaxation, tension, timing, balance, posture, center-of-gravity, motion¡­ and imagery. My instructor walked around with an armful of water bottles. Handing them out to those in need rewarded him with gratitude and heartfelt expressions. High-fiving and building each other up, they resumed their training with an even stronger spark of life. Handing the last water bottle to me, he asked, ¡°Would you like to stop here for today?¡± ¡°No.¡± I shook my head and hopped to my feet. I managed the best invigorated smile I could, in hopes of convincing him. ¡°Please, let us continue. She¡¯s going to give it her all, and I would like to do the same.¡± ¡°If that¡¯s the case¡­ Please observe as you rest.¡± Muscles in his legs extended and contracted, and the same was done to his arms. Stretching the lower body was heavily emphasized as he told me to pay close attention. ¡°The next move is about the balance of the body, and the precision of your mind. Power comes second in favor of reach. This is called Breab.¡± Standing upright, he raised his right knee to his waist, bent, with his thigh paralleled to the ground. The supporting foot faced outwards. ¡°HAH!¡± A quick snap extended his knee, releasing a whip to the air, and then unsnapped to bring it back in form. Quickness and fluidity in his form made the kick seemed so effortless. Subtle shift of his center-of-gravity held him upright and perfectly balance as he placed both feet onto the ground. ¡°This is called Breab.¡± He said once more. ¡°Do it once, and then let¡¯s move onto the last technique I have to show you.¡± My abs contracted with the upward placement of my knee. Foot faced to the side for balance. Inhaling a huge breath of air into my diaphragm, I extended my leg and exhaled all at once. The sudden force exerted by my kick had me wobbling and struggling all over the place. Smacking my butt onto the ground shot a brief stinging sensation. ¡°That works.¡± Nodding satisfactorily, he stood in front of me with both arms at his side. ¡°The last and final technique takes a long time to master. It is called Scapail. However strong your opponent may be, their swings are an extension of their body. Within their body is a force you must use to your advantage.¡± He gestured me to hit him. Both arms were at his side with nothing in front to protect him; an intentional drop of his guard. Assuming the stance ingrained through repetitions, I launched an attack directly at his chest. He stepped to the side, and my punch went through a formless, immaterial him -- one composed of an earthly light -- a shadowy figure of his former self. Before I could even react to it, the real him was at my side with his hand formed into a knife at my throat. Through all the repetitions and experience today, I discovered a sense of how my punch should work -- how my punch felt -- but this time was different. Not only did my arm felt sluggish during its extension, but there was also this outer force preventing me from retracting it any earlier than I wanted. Everything slowed down, for a sliver of a moment, when he dodged my attack. ¡°Scapail is a defensive technique. It is useful in opening defenses and counterattacking.¡± He instructed. ¡°To do this requires absolute confidence in your mind to read the opponent¡¯s attack, and your body to react fast enough. From the start of your Path your feet should¡¯ve felt the beating of nature¡¯s heart. Scapail can only be perform if you entrust your entirety to your mind, and nature¡¯s energy. Come. I won¡¯t hold back on my next attack.¡± I held both arms at my side, and nodded to the indication of his next attack. The beating of nature¡¯s heart, as he called it, felt like it was on its last few seconds of life. Faint vibrations tickled my feet -- impossible to tell without the help of his guidance. Once he saw my readiness he started a countdown from five. ¡°Five¡­ four¡­ three¡­¡± Sharp eyes stared at my right shoulder. Strong arms locked in-place with a ton of potential energy. Our actions drew curious eyes all around us. ¡°Two¡­ One¡­¡± I was prepared. The attack should be coming towards my right shoulder. All I did was watch his fist resting at his side¡­ and then¡­ it moved. It shot faster, way faster than I expected. ¡®One¡¯ literally just parted from his lips, yet his fist has already flown a third-way through the air to my right shoulder. Unbelivabl-- Eyes wide and heart working faster than ever, I took a step back and turned to dodge his attack. Staring at this unfathomable speed made the crowd¡¯s gasped all the more distorted. It wasn¡¯t only the sound of their voice that seemed to have slowed down, but my body as well. As much as I wanted to move faster, my body was already doing its utmost. An earthly and yellow energy enshrouded my feet when the attack was two-thirds of the way to its destination. Unable to spare it anymore attention, I mentally commanded my body to focus on incoming death. Then¡­ the attack connected. Shivery spiders crawled its way up my spine to remind me that I¡¯m still alive. Sweat beads quickly formed as I stared at his forearm, and entered a state of queasiness. I didn¡¯t dare look... but I must. An excruciating pain throbbed from my right shoulder. A pain like no other; like there was a cavity in my shoulder that expanded until obliteration. Slowly turning my head had my mind inexplicably at a loss, and unhinged. My shoulder, my arm, my hand, and my fingers¡­ were still intact. When I came to terms with reality, only then did agony released its grip. ¡°Scapail is a defensive technique, but at an extreme mental toll.¡± My instructor retracted his fist and bowed to me. ¡°What your mind and body just felt is a mental construct of the pain you would have endured, if you were hit. Be mindful of what attack you choose to avoid, and what you choose to block. A successful scapail could lead to your death, if your mind is not ready.¡± I clasped my fidgety hands together -- that only amplified an uncontrollable relief -- and bowed. ¡°Thank you¡­ brother.¡± Chapter 4: Real Life Chapter 4: Real Life ¡°What skill was that?¡± ¡°Brother, please teach me!¡± ¡°Teach me as well, brother!¡± A crowd of many white Doboks wagged their eager tails around us. The newcomers pushed and shoved their way to my instructor, gobbling us up with their unhindered madness. An unfitting behavior contrary to the harmony spiel my instructor gave. Endless noises gawked around him, swarming him for his lessons. I bowed once more, as the jumble of mess blocked my line-of-vision to him. Breaking free of the crowd I made my way to the only door of the dojo. Much of the sky had darken, but there was still a sliver of the sun¡¯s radiance still peering from the horizon. Paper lanterns in the courtyard lit up as a fellow brother ignited each one with a swift strike of his hand. They served more as ceremonial objects; the light from the many paper lanterns struggled to fight off the dark. Instead, the courtyard¡¯s main light source came from the streetlights on the other side of the dojo¡¯s wall that bled over. Our promise was set to midnight, so our duel wouldn¡¯t be for another few hours or so. Taking this time to explore the city would be keenly advised. There¡¯s so much I don¡¯t know about this city, let alone this world. Reccu said she was gathering information, and I should as well. Fortunately, in a world of data, there¡¯s one place bound to have useful tidbits lying around: the forums. Exiting the dojo and turning right I headed towards the central plaza of the city, where the city¡¯s warp portal towered above everyone else. Orbs of light gathered around figures of people as ethereal rings scanned their bodies up-and-down, reconstructing or deconstructing those who touched it. Even at this time of day people continued to teleport in and out of the plaza. The variety of adventurers dramatically increased from the amount of peasantry I saw this morning. More had ditched their rugged T-shirts and blouses to replace them with wizardry robes, protective suits of metal, or stylish and fashionable cloth and leather armor. Moving through the crowded plaza wasn¡¯t so difficult. The mass of people remained within a close radius of the warp portal, chatting away and idling by. Some held picket-signs that read ¡®Looking for a party!¡¯ ¡®Selling new equipment!¡¯ and ¡®Forming a new party, let¡¯s go hunt!¡¯ Above all else, despite whatever activities occupied their time, they all carried a lively demeanor. Eagerness to explore. Excitement to live this life through. Nearing the center of the plaza, my pace became slower and I became cautious of my surroundings. Greenhorn warriors walking to-and-fro haphazardly dangled their sharp swords from their waist, unsheathed. A group of children with daggers ran around wildly, laughing and enjoying themselves, like kids in a playground. I did my best to pick out those thoughtless airheads and navigated my way to the warp stone, all the while avoiding them. I placed a hand onto the pillar supporting the warp portal and thought ¡®@Log out.¡¯ The world around me froze, like a snapshot taken of the surrounding. Sounds of the world fell to a deafening silence. The people around me halted their movements like a game of Simon Says. The weight of the world and the ubiquitous air failed to appeal to my senses, any longer. ¡°Disconnection imminent.¡± A feminine robotic voice rang to the sides of my ears. Colors of the world cascaded into pixels of black and white. Outlines of the stores, the people, and everything within my view had its lines procedurally erased. Before I know it, I stood in a pitch-black darkness, a world of nothingness. I placed my hands onto the helmet resting on my physical face and gave it a slight push. I opened my eyes and watched it retracted into its separate space compartment within the diving-casket. ¡°Ejection successful.¡± The lid of the diving-casket opened, and I reached for the edges of the opening to support myself. Being immersed in that world made me forgot how dark my room was. Climbing out of the diving-casket I saw something that shouldn¡¯t be there. A big forehead ¨C a magnitude of proportion so unique that there¡¯s only one person in the world it could belong to. The familiar person stylized in a fancy black suit-and-tie sat in the only chair in the room. Highlighted by the lights of my monitor, he remained facing down in the dark room, unaware of my presence. A soft scent of rich cologne tickled my nose as I stared at him, slightly annoyed. His right hand held a crummy phone ¨C my phone ¨C as his thumbs went to work searching through its content. The other hand picked up one of two white paper cups that wafted a delicious aroma of roasted coffee beans, and sipped on it. I stood in front of him, half-naked and all, but his eyes remained on my phone. A swift extension of my hand snatched the phone from his hands. I placed it to the side, on my desk. Tickie looked up and smile, clear of any wrongdoings or shame. ¡°Hey.¡± Tickie handed me the other paper cup of coffee with the label ¡®Starducks.¡¯ ¡°Was it fun?¡± ¡°The experience was unreal, to say the least. It¡¯s a way different experience from VR headsets, even with the recent advancement in the past years.¡± I accepted his offer and placed the drink next to my phone. ¡°Thanks for always getting one of these for me. That doesn¡¯t mean I¡¯ll forgive you for looking through my phone.¡± ¡°So¡­ You¡¯re talking to that Anastasia, again?¡± Tickie held a parental tone, like that of a dad questioning a son. ¡°She¡¯s a peculiar one¡­ Not in a good way.¡± ¡°Yup...¡± I sighed. ¡°Must we talk abouit this, again? Also, stop snooping around my phone.¡± ¡°What¡¯s wrong with that? It¡¯s fun.¡± Tickie procured his smart phone X70 -- a small rectangular phone that¡¯s light-years advanced in technology compare to mine -- in its sleek rectangular form and pristine condition from his pockets and presented it to me. ¡°Here, you can look through mine.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t want your phone.¡± I slightly pushed his hand back. ¡°Your fianc¨¦¡¯s missed calls and your pitiful attempt to salvage whatever situation you dug yourself into gets old quite fast.¡± ¡°Speak for yourself. Ten missed calls from mom, twenty unread text-messages from your sister. All from January.¡± Tickie smiled at me, unpleasantly. ¡°I want to know more.¡± ¡°Can you¡­ Can you not?¡± I squinted my eyes, crossed my arms, and frowned. I picked up my phone, flipped to open, and pressed my fingers onto the number pads, intimidatingly. ¡°Oh, I wonder if Raine would like to know what her future husband is doing right now.¡± Tickie¡¯s eyebrows pinched as he shot me a solemn look. Familiarity in his eyes gave way to an imposing expression, the likes seen from a mafia. WIth unabated breaths, he strained his voice and said, ¡°If I go down, you¡¯ll go down with me. Press it. Call her. I¡¯ll wait.¡± That unrelenting expression trained by brutal wars in corporate almost had me yielding. But we knew each other for way too long. I searched for ¡®Raine¡¯ in my contact list, faced the phone towards him, and crept a smiled. My thumb hovered over the green call button. I stare at him for any telling signs; an emotion I can bite into; a weakness I can latch onto. My finger was millimeters away from applying pressure, yet his wall stood high and indomitable. The tension between us were no longer of a friend-to-friend sort, but of a man-to-man. Lightning sparks from our eyes as we stared at each other, neither one of us daring to yield. Finally, I made contact. The green call button depressed into its socket. A stock ringing sound, the same sound expected from an old telephone, emitted from my phone. I faced the phone¡¯s button pads towards him with a grin, while the phone rung for two seconds, pause, and another two seconds. Tickie¡¯s index finger shot forth towards the red end-call button, all the while maintaining eye-contact.Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. Impressive. I laughed and set my phone to the side. I grabbed the coffee he gave me and sipped on it. Mmm. The taste of mild ground coffe mixed with artificial sweeteners never tasted so good before. Delicious. ¡°Fine, fine. But shouldn¡¯t you at least give them a reply?¡± Tickie chuckled. ¡°They¡¯re worried about you. Working at a convenience store would make any moms worry about their son¡¯s future. Or, should I say, a dungeon master?¡± ¡°Eventually -- wait¡­¡± The sudden thought of my contract with C.R.U. furrowed lines on my forehead. I clicked my tongue and massaged the newly-formed wrinkles on my forehead. ¡°Ah, fuck me. You¡¯ve read Anastasia¡¯s message, right?¡± ¡°You mean that massive wall of text? Not all of it.¡± Tickie stuck a finger in his mouth and pretended to puke. ¡°I exited when I realized there was a scrolling bar. How anyone can bother to read those blocks of paragraphs is beyond me.¡± ¡°Says the future successor of Q.C.Y. Emporium.¡± To err on the safe side I navigated to my phone message¡¯s inbox and deleted her text message. ¡°That¡¯s business. It¡¯s not the same.¡± Tickie shook his head. ¡°See, you don¡¯t appreciate the beauty in short messages.¡± ¡°What would I have to do to keep your mouth shut about this?¡± I couldn¡¯t wipe away this unnerving feeling like I¡¯ve screwed up, majorly. ¡°Don¡¯t tell anyone about this, Tickie. It¡¯s my first time working with such a big company, and I don¡¯t want to screw it up. It hasn¡¯t been more than a day and this happens. I signed all those papers, too... I¡¯m sure they mentioned something about confidentiality¡ª¡± ¡°Wow.¡± Tickie¡¯s eyes went wide. ¡°Chill. Those papers are just formality. Trust me, I deal with this kind of thing all the time. What¡¯s important is that you don¡¯t leak it on a public forum or to some sort of media. Otherwise, you¡¯ll be fine. I mean, it¡¯s not like you¡¯ll rat yourself out, right?¡± ¡°Yeah...¡± ¡°Our situation is quite similar. C.R.U. approached me with a similar opportunity, just like yours. The employee called it Rare Lives or something.¡± Tickie informed. ¡°Actually, a lot of celebrities, like actors and singers and high-prolific people have been presented similar opportunities. It¡¯s a great way to spread their game into influential hands.¡± ¡°Rare Lives?¡± I wondered. ¡°I didn¡¯t hear anything like that from Anastasia.¡± ¡°I can¡¯t speak for others, but yeah, Rare Lives.¡± Tickie laughed. ¡°We¡¯ll see each other in-game, right? I¡¯ll leave the surprise till then.¡± ¡°Hm¡­¡± If Tickie experience anything like my start, then he probably won¡¯t have control over where he ports into the world. ¡°I¡¯m in city call Suomi. It has a teleport stone there, so it shouldn¡¯t be too hard to get to. When you get there look up and find a bulletin board--¡± ¡°Shhh. Don¡¯t spoil the game for me--¡± While he eagerly mouthed away, a bright light shone from his pocket, followed by vibrations of his phone. He slid his hand into his pocket, pulled out his phone slightly, and took a quick peek at the caller ID. ¡°It¡¯s already this late. I actually have business elsewhere. Your place happened to be on the way, and I¡¯ve been wanting to visit.¡± ¡°At this time?¡± 5:06 A.M. displayed on my monitor¡¯s clock. I wrapped my arms around his shoulder and gave him a nudge. I brought my face closer to his ear and whispered, ¡°Don¡¯t let me keep you from Raine.¡± ¡°It¡¯s not like that.¡± Tickie stood up from the desk chair with a nervous smile. ¡°Anyway, try to keep what I said in mind. Anastasia¡­ I¡¯ve seen all kinds of faces, and hers never strike me as someone who cares about the well-being of other people.¡± ¡°You¡¯ve met her once.¡± I reciprocated his wariness with a smile of gratitude. ¡°Hardly enough time to get to know a person, don¡¯t you think?¡± ¡°Perhaps... Nevermind.¡± Tickie walked towards the door, carefully navigating through the minefield of soda cans. One hand slid into his pocket and brought a phone to his ear. It rung as the other hand waved goodbye with his back turned to me. He opened the door and said, ¡°I¡¯ll leave the spare key in the same place as always.¡± The door closed on me as I brought my hand up to wave back. With Tickie now gone I sat on my chair and browsed to the game¡¯s forums. The amount of new posts was staggering. Within the general discussion sub-forum was a live mega-thread titled ¡®Day One Experience.¡¯ Recent posts briefed their experience, complimenting the FFDC¡¯s unfathomable appeal to the user¡¯s five senses ¨C the likes of which VR headsets and haptic-feedback gadgets and gears achieved, albeit limited. Other posters agreed with the poster as well, commenting at how the technology was so futuristic compare to other VR-related products. The chains of comments bounced off one-another, engaged and enthused about their experience. I clicked on the forum¡¯s filtering format to sort by the highest ranked posts. A post, by the user Renajaeya, detailed a very brief list of their experience in the game, and their thoughts about it. I highlighted their text and used the LazyReader application to summon the browser¡¯s built-in reader, a robotic feminine voice, to read it for me. ¡°Day One of Renajaeya¡¯s Journal: I spawned into the city of R-Yesson, just like some others reading this. But unlike them, I didn¡¯t want to become the next hero, or do something adventurous like exploring the world. I just wanted to be a guard of the city and chill all day. Weird, I know. So I took the guard trial, and in doing so, I died. I had to kill some monsters outside the city to prove my worth, or whatever stupid task it was. Combat in this game is hard, especially with how much movement is required. So, I died. Amazingly, what happened was that I died, and resurrected into a skeleton. I don¡¯t know if this is true for everyone out there, but this could be a path unlock if you repeat my steps. I failed the guard trial, but I also discovered something new: an unlock. Monk, priest, warrior, rogue, and wizards are not the only classes out there. I¡¯ll now return and live my life as a skeleton. Sgrios calls for me.¡± This was the longest comment chain in the megathread with ten-thousand replies. Interestingly, the ones who replied to him fought back and forth about the genuinity of the original poster¡¯s information. They tried replicating his steps, but failed to do so. Those that failed expressed their grumpiness, warning all users to not trust the person¡¯s post, and emphasized that death results in character deletion and a temporary account lock-out of the game. I scrolled through the thread, unsatisfied by the lack of relevant information I was searching for. Results displayed through the search filters had nothing to do with building a dungeon from scratch. Though, I probably should have not expected much. Those in my position, if there are any out there, are contractually obligated to not publicly talk about it. Browsing back to the general discussion sub-forum, I noticed a few other hot topics that increased with replies by the seconds. ¡°THINGS TO DO AND NOT DO: Tips From A Beta Player¡± ¡°PSA: In-game death results in perma-death and temporary account lock-out.¡± ¡°Lore Video Series: Helpful info to remain in-character while roleplaying.¡± The first thread, ¡°THINGS TO DO AND NOT DO: A Tip From A Beta Player,¡± had some useful information. It stressed that physical movement will take time before most people will be comfortable. Training grounds and non-lethal spars are great ways to go about adjusting and fitting into your in-game body. Walking around town, listening to nearby sounds and taking in the environment are also suggested. Really, anything that uses all of your senses will make the transition easier. Fighting an enemy immediately after character creation would result in death, even to a low level enemy. The original poster also stressed that roleplaying assumes the position of a character, whoever it may be, but that morality and city laws should still be upheld. Before you do something to another player, question whether you''ll like it if someone did the same thing to you. Or, as mothers would say, treat others the same way you''d want to be treated. The second thread, ¡°PSA: In-game death results in perma-death and temporary account lock-out,¡± contained the most frustrated vocal players I''ve seen in any game-related thread. The post was made by Grand Master Tatuge, a title that represents an employee of the game. The only message left by Tatuge was a single sentence: ¡°Don''t treat this like any other game.¡± Many players whom are angered by the temporary account lock-out grieved for a lesser duration. They justified themselves by stating that they spent a lot of money to buy the machine and the game, but to have less than a few hours of playtime is unacceptable. Death threats and explicit words were mixed in there somewhere. The third thread in the sub-forum, ¡°Lore Video Series: Helpful info to remain in-character while roleplaying,¡± had several links to Gootube with videos of the game''s lore. It was helpful for all role-players that wanted to act as citizens, merchants, guards -- something mundane -- and to blend in with the rest of the NPCs. One of the videos, titled ¡°Wonders of the World ¨C Earthsea,¡± had a beautiful portrayal of VFX, background art, and voice-over narration. What really grabbed me was a tall stature of man in a desert holding a small spherical object. There was nothing around him, except for the endless sands below his feet. But after the spherical object rose to air, it shone an outlandish energy that collapsed onto itself, and the surrounding changed from a desert to a castle with lush floras and a happy populace. It was like magic. Mystified by what I just saw, I looked to the comment section. Those few that commented didn''t express the same feelings I had. They were impressed, but took it more as a knowledge to behold, rather than a wonder to explore. I turned and looked at the diving-casket. Reccu, please tell me you know something about this. First Night: Reccu First Night: Reccu It¡¯s dark and cold. It¡¯s night, of course. A really, really long night. Spending the entire day gathering any useful information had me completely exhausted. Bouncing between rude strangers to pick-up artists made it difficult to struggle onwards. Are all city folks as bad as this? I did tell him I¡¯d be gathering intel¡­ Facing him now is a bit hard. Other than learning about public news and current events, there wasn¡¯t much I could pry from tavern dwellers, nor from people on the street. Many of them, especially those useless adventurers, didn¡¯t even have a clue as to what I was asking! Aren¡¯t their jobs to explore places and seek out the unknown?! Unbelievable. Though, I guess I shouldn¡¯t be all too surprise I didn¡¯t gain much today. Other cities such as Oren and Mileth keep their information on lock as well. Stil¡­ what a terrible feeling. My first task and it feels like I¡¯ve already failed. I¡¯ve been sitting here, waiting for who knows how long. Just under the streetlight, right outside of Soumi¡¯s dojo. Strangers occasionally passing by shot worried glances as if I¡¯m a stray puppy. Please, stop. I don¡¯t want to be doing this either. ¡°Did he forget about our promise?¡± I dug my face into my arms and knees. A small and soft sigh was the only thing to keep me company. It¡¯s well past midnight, and it¡¯s way past our meeting time. I mean¡­ if he remembered, then he would be here by now. I wonder if I scared him away¡­ especially with the duel, and also forcing him to train. Maybe I came on too strong¡­ ¡°Meow.¡± Choutchi¡¯s soft greeting caught me by surprise. I lifted my head to this adorable shadow blob of a cat. A small, bobbing head of a tiny cat peeked out from within my shadow. She bounced from the pit of her stomach and onto my knees, eye-level. I nudged her with a warm smile and caressed the top of her gassy head with my finger. Choutchi purred and tickled my knees with her tiny tongue . ¡°Choutchi, you know you¡¯re not supposed to be out here. C¡¯mon, go back.¡± I half-heartedly warned. I tried to be stern, but just looking at her makes it all the more impossible to be a good master. Choutchi made herself right at home by laying down and tucking in her head with her tail. Despite her terrible master, she still manages to somehow find happiness in our situation. I moved a finger towards her belly, which she squeamishly received. ¡°Sorry, little one. I wished you had a better master.¡± Choutchi purred once more and licked my knees. That slight sensation managed to force a giggle out of me. ¡°But not to worry! Our lives won¡¯t be the same anymore. Goddess Anastasia sent someone who could help us¡­ I think. I mean, there¡¯s no reason to doubt her, but¡­ I was expecting someone more¡­ I don¡¯t know, stronger?¡±You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story. Choutchi popped onto my shoulders and rubbed her head against my neck. In her own weird way, she was cheering for me. ¡°I know. I¡¯m not expecting change to happen by itself.¡± I softly told. ¡°Gotta put in the hard work and keep up a strong appearance, is what they say. Right?¡± ¡°Meow.¡± Choutchi secured her claws within my flesh and stretched. Then, she dived into my shadow, completely immersing herself within it. ¡°Bye, little one.¡± I scanned the road once more, hoping to find him. Had my hopes up for nothing. The amount of people walking by had lessen from before. The ones that were here didn¡¯t hold that same naive look like a child in an amusement park. Though, disturbingly, what I did notice was another man seemingly waiting from across the road. The moment we made eye-contact, he started walking over. Aw, crap. Did I accidentally gave him the green light? Proudly striding through the streetlights, the man¡¯s pace was a compromise of eloquence and speed. Every step was accompanied by a subtle pause of glamor, a small dramatic effect for the world¡¯s spotlight shining on him. A white cane with a light-brown crystal embedded on top taps the ground, unnecessarily. Puffs of smoke blew from the pipe of his mouth, flying away from his exquisite attire. The man¡¯s unbuttoned chiffon coat seemingly kept the cold at bay; underneath was a loosely cloth shirt exposing his throbbing chest. The bracelets around his wrist, jewelry around his neck, and his fashionably leather belt reeked of wealth. Most notably of all: it¡¯s impossible to miss his large forehead, with his dark brown hair tied-up into a man-bun. ¡°Missy, are you waiting for someone?¡± He flashed a magnificent white smile with airs of royalty. ¡°H-huh?¡± Embarrassingly, my voice squeaked. Our eyes were locked, and my eyes explosively widened. I immediately glued my hands to my mouth and slammed my forehead to my knees. The little girl in me couldn¡¯t keep her darn mouth shut; an uncontrollable excitement, evident by the warmth of my face. I kept my voice down, and muffled, ¡°...I am.¡± ¡°So am I. What a fine evening it is today.¡± The stranger said. ¡°I thought I¡¯d be lucky on such a beautiful night.¡± Seconds after his last words were occupied by an unnerving, awkward silence. I dared not to lift my head up. If I acted like I¡¯m dead, maybe he would just go away. ¡°Though, it¡¯s not like we¡¯ve made arrangements.¡± The man said. ¡°I probably should¡¯ve made an arrangement.¡± Another pause, another uncomfortable moment. I managed to mumble a sound. Hopefully that¡¯ll sent the message that I¡¯m not broken, I¡¯m just super nervous. ¡°Sorry, I just thought you¡¯d like some company.¡± The man said. ¡°I was waiting over there for quite some time, and it got pretty lonely by myself. But it seems like my hunch was wrong.¡± ¡°Mmm¡­¡± I uttered. ¡°I wish you the best of luck. The grassses are still green, for who knows how long. I¡¯m going to go enjoy them while I still can.¡± The footsteps that came afterwards soften to the same sounds as the others. There were background noises of people walking by, people chatting, but it was relatively quiet. Here, it was peaceful. It was a bit¡­ lonely. Between my knees I could see Choutchi popping her adorable little head from my shadow. That little face of hers always managed to somehow crept a smile upon my face. I rubbed her head and let out a longing sigh. ¡°Company¡­ huh.¡± Choutchi quietly purred. It wasn¡¯t long before the space around me have been cleared of any and all activities, saved for the far ends of the road. I didn¡¯t realize such a busy street during the day can be so empty at night. Though, the stranger¡¯s right. It is a gorgeous night. A beautiful moon with a bunch of twinkling stars glimmering in the night sky. A refreshing breeze carrying the aroma of sweet barbecue. A day still full of festivities and opportunities for the taking. ¡°Meow.¡± Choutchi licked my petting finger. ¡°I know, little one.¡± I blew a good-bye kiss and pressed her little head back into my shadows. ¡°I can¡¯t just stay here and wait for him to show up. Roads are meant for walking.¡± I stood up, patted any dirt and dust off my skirt and coat, and moved those legs. Chapter 6: From Broke To Broke Chapter 6: From Broke To Broke Eager to listen to what Reccu had to say, I immediately took off from my chair. PING! The speakers behind my monitor chimed a familiar sound. Popping-up on my desktop was a window application of eIRC, an ancient software that facilitates online communication, like a chat service. A rare application in this day and age, but I like it. It¡¯s lightweight, runs fast on this old hardware, and has all the tools I need. It also has an awesome 16-bit logo that perfectly loops its three-frames, bulgy-eyes mailbox animation. Within the eIRC client, a connection instantly formed between me and another user that goes by the alias ¡®DD-Pebbles.¡¯ ¡°Mit-Han-Rou, I hope your recent shopping experience with us was enjoyable. Please rate your experience with merchant Pebbles.¡± A plugged link automatically redirected me to my browser with another pop-up window that displayed, ¡°Thank you for purchasing the Full-Feedback Diving-Casket.¡± Accompanying it was a clickable scale of one-to-five stars and a small feedback box. I immediately exited the feedback survey, and typed, ¡°Thanks, maybe next time.¡± Next time, as in never. ¡°Butthole.¡± A red emoticon of an angry face appeared afterwards. ¡°Anyways, are you playing that new game that everyone¡¯s raving about? My services also extends to there, and I¡¯ll also add a discount for a returning customer.¡± ¡°Services?¡± I scoffed. ¡°Don¡¯t got money.¡± ¡°You could afford a FFDC, there¡¯s no way you¡¯re empty. C¡¯mon, I¡¯ll also accept in-game currency.¡± An especially irky emoticon with dollar-sign eyes gestured hither with an open palm. ¡°Trade-ins of valuable items are also acceptable, too, I guess. My discount won¡¯t apply to that, though.¡± Items¡­ huh. Accessing my character¡¯s information from the game¡¯s website automatically displayed my character sheet, which was mostly the same as I remembered.
ID: Mit-Han-Rou Class: Monk Title: Dungeon Master
STR 1 HP 100/100 Level 1
INT 1 MP 50/50 next LEV 20
WIS 1
CON 5 EXP 0 A.EXP 0 Ascension 0
DEX 1 GOLDSupport creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions. 0 GP 0 next Ac. 0
Next to the ¡°Character¡± tab was my character¡¯s ¡°Skills/Spells¡± tab that pulsated with a yellow highlight. Within that tab were many empty rows and columns under the skills and spells header. ¡®Assail,¡¯ ¡®Kick,¡¯ and ¡®Avoid¡¯ occupied the first three slots under the skills header, and the rest were filled with question marks. Hovering over the identified skills popped-up another small notification: "Assail (Bhuail Tusail) [50/100]: The first discipline for practitioners who walks the path of body-mind." "Kick (Breab) [1/100]: Balance within power. It starts with a basic kick." "Avoid (Scapail) [1/100]: Entrust yourself to your senses; an avoidance of utmost confidence." The next tab revealed my character¡¯s inventory: an outline of a blank human body with empty boxes pointed to its various outfitable parts. A white dobok occupied the top and bottom of the armor slot. Underneath it were the same peasantry clothes I worn since the start of the game. That was it. Just glancing at this screen screamed ''newbie.'' ¡°Do you accept starter equipments¡­?¡± I asked. ¡°It¡¯s not much, but it should go for something, right? If there¡¯s anything in the pockets, you can keep them.¡± ¡°Wah¡­That¡¯s it? ...Anything else?¡± ¡°Nooope.¡± Immediately after that was a notification from the client that the user DD-Pebbles has disconnected from the private room. It happened so suddenly. But, I nodded my head and couldn¡¯t agree more. It¡¯s not worth it to chase after a broke customer like me. Better profits can be made elsewhere. Without anymore distractions I lifted my butt off my chair and into the diving-casket. *** Within seconds of beaming into the world I had already forgotten how fascinated I could get; how surprised and in awe I could be at the wonders around me. The warp stone behind me was a thing of beauty, glowing with this subtle deep-ocean blue. The mightiest and tallest object in the plaza naturally had this mysterious attraction to it. On this darkest hour, it lit the entire plaza with its ocean glow that rested a tad bit high from the cobblestones below my feet. A glow I never realized until the lights were dim. Looking around me proved that I wasn¡¯t the only one enthralled by its beauty. Merchants had their own stalls camped around the outer ring of the plaza. Adventurers relaxed all around the pillar with their picnic-style blankets and munchies. Guards in an orange tabard and chainmail took quick, delighted glances at the warpstone every once in awhile as they patrolled the streets. A thing of wonder, much more appreciated here than the one at my dungeon. Besides that was another irresistible appeal wafting through the air: the sweet smell of temptatious smoky BBQ. Strong scents of grilled food and barbeque strung me along as I mindlessly strolled through the west side of the central plaza, hypnotized. Even within the virtual world I can¡¯t escape the beauty and art of alluring foods. Food vendors camped both sides of the western road with their stalls set up. Mouth-watering aroma of grilled scent suffused through the smoky air. Grilled kabob, smoked fish, cajun-seasoned potatoes, and spiced-smoked corns stretched their hands out to the patrons¡¯ wallets. Needless to say, patrons gladly obliged at the thought of biting into a piping hot and succulent meal. The majority of the food were tailored to be hand-eaten and on-the-go, contained within disposable carton trays. Accompanying those delectables were transparent flask-filled fruity drinks of various bright colors to quench their thirst. Signs of the vendor¡¯s prices reminded me that my pockets could use a little bit of weight to fill the void. Walking around the plaza presented opportunities for pay and craftsmanship. Shops of all kind were filled to the brim with gawkers and window-shoppers. Blacksmiths, tailors, and alchemists were just some of the many shops I could see within the street-lit roads. However, the thought of a day job wouldn¡¯t be sufficient for the goal I have in mind. Learning an artistic craft for money would be fun, but would take too long. I needed something bigger, something riskier that pays a lot more within a short time frame. Upwards at the bulletin board were shameless advertisements. Once pictures of various shops had cycled through, different Paths came next. Stylish graphics of the Warrior, Cleric, Wizard, and Rogue Paths displayed onto the dynamic bulletin board, each with their own catchy one-liner. After those was an advertisement of the Guild agency. With what little space they had, they allocated it to their main message: ¡°¡®Live life with the people you cherish. Hunt rewards with your family. Earn renown and spread your family name across the lands.¡± Afterward came a patriotic advertisement for the recruitment of Suomi¡¯s army. Rewards for bounty hunts certainly sounded intriguing. If the rewards scale with the difficulty, then this could be a quick way to earn money. Intrigued, I waited for the bulletin board to change to the overview of the map, and then traced my respective location to the Guild agency. According to the board, it could be found on the northern road of the city, a few blocks just before the inner castle walls. As I approached my destination I noticed a different air surrounding the adventurers in this part of the city. Their equipments were well-maintained, and had a nice shine. But, more so than that, there was this noticeable air surrounding them. Not noticeable to the naked eye, but just by being around them it was easy to tell they were a league above others -- they were intimidating just by being them. These adventurers carried loot bags filled to the brim, traveled in wagons and groups, and seemed overall more experience than adventurers like myself. Is it¡­ possible to recruit them into my dungeon? If so-- A sudden pair of soft hands squeezed my left wrist and yanked me out of my thoughts. I quickly turned around to see a frowning Reccu; her eyebrows pinched together and the curves of her lips tilted downwards. There were worries in her eyes, though I don¡¯t know why. ¡°Reccu...¡± I yanked my hand back, rightfully so. ¡°If you want my hand so much, I¡¯ll sell it to you." ¡°You¡­¡± Reccu clenched her fists while fighting back the urge to cry. That small mouth of hers opened and closed again and again, like she wanted to say too many things all at once. But nothing came out. ¡°Ugh¡­ Where have you been?¡± ¡°Just looking around.¡± I quickly answered. WIth her here, there¡¯s more important matters to discussed. As I resumed on the road towards the Guild agency, Reccu followed behind me with her mouth shut. I took a glance back, only to notice a childlike temper. She didn¡¯t seem quite satisfied with my answer. Quite obvious by the loud stomping of her feet. ¡°Reccu, please stop that.¡± I asked, politely. ¡°People will stare.¡± Somehow, her stomp became louder than before. I glanced back, and from the corner of my eye I noticed a semblance of a monster, restrained by hundreds of chains, willing to pierce a knife to my spine. Those feet reached as high as her waist, and then bolted to the ground. Her eyes stared straight into mines, unkindly. My neck involuntarily snapped itself towards the front, as if to have mercy on my eyes. What an unbelievable woman. As expected, we¡¯ve garnered the attentions of some of nearby folks, especially of the guards patrolling here. Hopefully, Reccu wouldn¡¯t dare to commit murder with this many witnesses. If only I could pretend like I didn''t know she existed... But, I took a deep breath in, slowed my pace until she was by my side, and whispered, ¡°Reccu, have you heard of Earth-Sea? Do you know anything about it?¡± ¡°Earth-Sea...?¡± Her voice drifted to the swaying wind. The stomps suddenly stopped. I glanced over my shoulder, and she was completely stilled. Anger and frustration completely felled to a new expression all over her face. Those eyes explosively widened, completely shocked at what I just asked -- which made me even more shocked. Did I say something wrong? She began walking again. Her arms forcibly linked with mine as she pulled me along to a brisk pace. Only now did I notice the chamomile perfume on her. A pleasant scent, in contrast to her rough handling. ¡°Where did you hear that?¡± She kept her voice quiet and direct. ¡°I decided to gather intel for the future of our dungeon, and I stumbled upon this information.¡± I replied with the same quietness. My answer had her squinting and tilting a face of doubt and confusion at me. Not convinced by my answer, she shook her head, and said, ¡°Anyway, don¡¯t think too much about it. There¡¯s nothing to gain from it.¡± Either out of spite, or aversion, she avoided eye-contact. No longer stomping, or acting like a child, she just walked. A lonely walk, without a destination in mind. ¡°Reccu¡­¡± Looking at her, she seemed so distant. A hinderance vibe lingering between us, like the subject we¡¯re talking about is taboo. She definitely knows more about the mysterious Earth-Sea, but I remained silent about it. Bringing it up now would only upset her. ¡°So, how did things go on your end?¡± I inquired. ¡°You were gathering intel, right? Found anything useful?¡± She shook her head -- a bit livelier than before. ¡°Not anything useful, really. But I do have an idea. We can¡¯t build a base without resources. So, Instead of building our base, how about starting on our force?¡± I was confused, but intrigued. To ask people to defend a non-existent base¡­ how would that even work? ¡°What do you mean? We don¡¯t have any money, let alone anything for them to defend.¡± ¡°Tsk, tsk, tsk.¡± Reccu shook her head with this irritating grin all over her face, all the while wagging a finger at me. ¡°I¡¯ll show you; it¡¯ll be much easier than explaining. We¡¯ll need to acquire a recipient, but first...¡± She circled around me, examining my tender muscles and scoping me from top-to-bottom. Just from following her with my eyes I could already tell how dissatisfied she was with my squishy physique. What an uncomfortable feeling. My calves, arms, abs, and back were harrassed with random pokes, and only then did she finally look at me, dead straight in my eyes, and shook her head. ¡°What¡­? Don¡¯t do that again, please.¡± I urged. ¡°You¡¯re still at level one, aren¡¯t you?¡± She asked. ¡°Level¡­ what?¡± It took me a bit to recall that the character sheet did state that I was level one. Impressively, she could tell just by poking me. ¡°All Paths converge to their respective ascension.¡± Reccu rolled up my left sleeve up to my shoulder, but there was nothing there. She then rolled up my right sleeve, and to my surprise, revealed a roman numeral one. ¡°I should have known better to let those useless Mundanes teach you a thing or two. What to do...¡± She rested her chin on a hand while nervously tapping her foot. ¡°Mmm¡­ We don¡¯t walk the same Paths, so there¡¯s not much I could teach you¡­ But the basics should be fine. Mhm¡­ Basics¡­¡± ¡°So, what¡¯s the plan?¡± I asked, while rolling down my sleeves. ¡°We¡¯ll have to venture out of the city to capture a recipient¡­ but I¡¯m worried that you¡¯ll just keeled over the moment combat begins.¡± Reccu chuckled. ¡°Our duel is pointless now, too. You¡¯ll just lose before you even know it.¡± ¡°Asshole.¡± I pinched her cheek and stretched it far enough to rid that mocking grin on her face. ¡°Ow¡­¡± Reccu rubbed both sides of her cheeks, delicately, with a pouting look. An over exaggeration of a dramatic act that failed to garner any sympathy from me. I didn¡¯t pinch her that hard. Though, it was nice to see her in high spirits again. ¡°Come on.¡± I began walking towards the Guild agency once again. ¡°If we¡¯re leaving the city, we should get a quest to earn some money while we¡¯re at it.¡± Stores of all kinds lined the streets, separated into their own blocks. But the Guild agency had an entire block solely dedicated to them. Surrounding the perimeter of the Guild agency were tall, metal fences dyed in white. A long gate, big enough to fit two carriages, was open to allow people to freely enter and leave. Granite and slate statues at least five meters high aligned symmetrically alongside the road to a five-story building. Each statue had a plaque with a single name engraved onto it. The ¡°The Librarian: Vorlof,¡± stood with magical orbs floating by his sides. ¡°The Dancer of Ceannlaider: Jutspi,¡± wielded two daggers with a plain mask covering their face. ¡°The First To Understand The Heart: Hohenheim,¡± sat cross-legged in mid-air, naked, and meditating. There were a few more statues modeling other notable figures, but at the end of it was a statue of marble. It stood a meter higher than the others, right in front of a flight of ascending stairs to the Guild agency. But, unlike the others, this one had more than one title. ¡°The Champion of Temuair; The Hero Of The Cthonic Wars; The Spawn of Ceannlaider: Ringin-Gula.¡± This masterful work of art posed with their hands towards the sky. A surreal layer of marble sheet, easily capturing the fine details and physics of a real sheet, obscured their entire physique. ¡°These names stretched across the world.¡± Reccu commented. ¡°From Abel, to Oren, to Tagor¡­ No one born in Temuair could escape the fairy tales of these heroic spirits. All kids dream of having their legacy here.¡± ¡°You, too?¡± I asked. ¡°No.¡± Reccu denied. ¡°I¡¯m not a kid, anymore. What about you?¡± I looked at all of the statues, in their grandeur, their imposing will, and their beauty. As a kid, I probably wouldn¡¯t be able to escape the allure of such fairy tales. ¡°Perhaps in another life I would¡­ But I have a different goal in mind.¡± Chapter 7: Party Up! Chapter 7: Party Up! Spacious, an understatement for the first floor. In between the walls of the Guild agency was a surface area large enough to house nearly a hundred people, comfortably. Bookcases near the walls lined its rows with history books, academia papers, fictions and plays, and news papers to keep their guests from boredom. Comfy couches and wooden tables with seats of twos, threes, fours, and fives all laid around for public lounging. Inspiring works of drawings, paintings, and crafts decorated the walkways of the first floor in transparent cases. But, they were all lonely. As deserted as the first floor was, the second floor was nothing less than rowdy. Clangs of glasses and shouts of joyous banter shook the second floor. One shouted of how mighty the hunt they slain. Another screamed, ¡°No more bugs! No more grinchins or swoodoo flies! I¡¯m never leaving town again!¡± Tables jumped and chairs were knocked back as the level of excitement and carelessness had the workers biting their nails. Each sweat drooping from the manager¡¯s chin was another expense factored into finance. The sweet confirmation of ¡°I¡¯ll cover it all. Let my boys enjoy the night,¡± by an adventurer with a gold amulet eased the manager from his toes. At the center of the first floor was a circular reception desk that sat under tens of papers levitating in between the first and second floor. Their rotation was slow as they orbited around a white orb with a black, gassy hue above the reception desk. From the front door, the papers were certainly legible. ¡®Kill,¡¯ ¡®Destroy,¡¯ and ¡®Transport,¡¯ were some of the keywords that categorized the papers. The finer details were in a smaller font, making it more difficult to read. We walked up to the reception desk, and greeted the only worker attending the station. ¡°Welcome, Aislings.¡± The receptionist greeted back. ¡°How can I help you at this early hour?¡± ¡°We¡¯re looking for any quest that pays well.¡± I answered with a pumped chest and a straight posture, hoping that would gain me a well-paying quest. ¡°Sure.¡± The receptionist smiled. ¡°May I see your ring?¡± ¡°...Ring?¡± I looked to my side, hoping Reccu could chime in. But she was long gone. Further beyond the bookcases were a flight of stairs next to the left and right walls that led to the second floor. And there she was, happily skipping up the stairs with arms flying back and forth. ¡°Oh, are you new here?¡± The receptionist opened the desk drawers and shuffled through a pack of documents. ¡°Would you like to sign up as a new party?¡± ¡°Uh¡­ Sure¡­ If that means I can accept a quest.¡± I replied, hesitantly. ¡°So, what exactly does that mean?¡± ¡°Mmm...¡± She stared at me with starry eyes, humming; an odd and unusual opportunity presented itself. ¡°The rush of newcomers yesterday morning skimmed through this process, so I¡¯m really surprise there are people out there who actually cares about these kinds of things.¡± Before I could even get a word in, she cleared her throat, straighten her bowtie, corrected her glasses, and took in a huge breath. ¡°Parties are how we track your progression in handling quests. We can¡¯t hand out the toughest quest to everyone; all the idiots would get themselves killed. So, we try our best to sort the list as fair as possible; progression and promotions won¡¯t take that long if you¡¯re worth it. Besides that, your party¡¯s rank can also be used as a representation of renown. Many places recognize the Guild agency as an institution that promotes power, aptitude, or just a good reference. Simply show them your--¡± A concerning thud rippled as she face-planted onto the desk, wheezing and coughing, struggling for air. ¡°Huh¡­¡± I slightly nodded, pretending I listened to every single word that shot out of her mouth. ¡°Can I accept a quest now?¡± She downed a bottle of water sitting on her desk and slammed a document in front of me. ¡°Fill¡­ this...¡± Under ¡®New Party Registration,¡¯ the document asked for my name, the party¡¯s name, the members within the party, our levels and classes, and finally, the date. There were other tidbits written, such as the Guild agency not being held reliable for the healthiness or well-being of the contractors. Quests payments are done upfront and in person, but quest rewards are only given once the reports have been filed, or the agent has deemed it sufficient. ¡°Sorry¡­ I don¡¯t know my party member¡¯s level.¡± I told the receptionist. ¡°Can I leave it out?¡± Unfortunately, she shook her head and informed me that it was a necessity so that they can adjust the rank accordingly. ¡°However, everyone has the option of merging a party below the rank of Platinum, so you may use that to your advantage. Lots of new people thought they had compose the perfect team upon registration but eventually fall out, so this rule was appended to give them more time.¡± ¡°Thanks.¡± I returned the document with my information on it. ¡°May I take a quest now?¡± ¡°Let¡¯s see¡­ Name: Mit-Han-Rou. Class: Monk. Level: 1. Date: Fall, Deoch 11.¡± She shuffled the paper into another stack of documents. Afterwards, she reached a hand into another drawer and procured a necklace with a bronze ring attached to it. A crimson bird flew down from the third floor at the command of her whistle. Not the slightest bit of agitation was shown as the receptionist plucked a feather off of the bird. The end-point blazed with a hot ember as the surrounding air grew dry. She scribbled onto the ring, and presented it to me. ¡°Welcome to the Guild agency, DUB-HAHM-ED¡­ Dubhamid. You don¡¯t hear names like that around Suomi often.¡± ¡°Wow...¡± I gratefully accepted it and wore it around my neck. It was beautiful. It was simple, with a nice shine. But, no other ring would have the name ¡®Dubhamid¡¯ so skillfully etched by a calligraphist. ¡°So...¡± ¡°Right, right.¡± She took out a squiggly stick with an illuminating orb at the end of it, and waved it around. Seven quest papers that were in the air flew down and sorted itself in front of me from the highest gold reward possible to the lowest. ¡°These have been up for quite some time, and they are very beginner friendly.¡± The first quest on the left detailed about the need of a caretaker. Daily necessities such as feeding, washing, and replacing the poo bucket for seven days would reward a total of two gold coins. The second quest talked about finding a missing cat, white and black stripes, running around town. That one offered a reward of one gold coin. The third one was desperately offering one gold coin to exterminate rodents in his kitchen. The next one wanted someone to deliver groceries every day, for the next seven days. The reward¡­ ¡°You can have the rest of my carrots.¡± What the hell are these pitiful quests¡­? I looked at her, a lady full of smiles, and asked, ¡°Is there anything that offers better pay?¡±This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version. ¡°The higher paying ones within bronze rank are currently undertaken by other adventurers.¡± The receptionist informed. ¡°They still have a few days left to report before their quests become publicly available again.¡± Descending from the left stairway, Reccu took careful steps towards me as she tried to balance a tray of ceramic plates stacked with a whole lot of meat. With the unfortunate letdown of finding a quest, I¡¯m glad to have a capable partner in my dire times. Delicious food always manages to cheer me up. She called out to me, and I happily waved back. ¡°Are you done?¡± Reccu waddled with great trouble, hilariously. Plates were loaded to generously feed three. With extreme vigilance, the meat never touched her coat or hair. A somewhat effective transportation, though a bit silly. ¡°Not yet.¡± I reached for a delicious smoking chicken wing, slightly charred, on her plate. ¡°I¡¯m just trying to find--¡± Reccu, reflexively, leaned back with the plate close to her chest. I looked at Reccu, surprised. She stared at me, perplexed. My eyes fell to the delicacies on the plate, and then back to her eyes. A sheepish smile curled her lips as she turned her head sideways. She took a step back, shying into a safe space. ¡°Reccu¡­¡± ¡°Mit-Han-Rou¡­¡± ¡°Are those for us?¡± I stared dead straight at her while mustering my best well-behaved smile. ¡°If ¡®us¡¯ is ¡®me¡¯¡­ then yes.¡± Reccu quietly replied with averting eyes. This kind of situation, I¡¯ve been in them before. Her eyes zoomed back and forth, desperately trying to find something to latch onto. With little-to-none activity on the first floor, those eyes didn¡¯t wander for long. Once she realized that, she sneaked a peek at me and averted her gaze once more. Absolutely unbelievable. She would let me starve before sharing one single piece of meat. I leaned over the desk, took the receptionist¡¯s hand, and summoned my pitiful-yet-adorable eyes. ¡°Please. Please! I need a quest. Something that pays well enough to feed me all the food I could ever want!¡± The receptionist quickly pulled her hand back, followed by a nervous laughter. ¡°The option of a joint-party quest is available to you. Bronze-rank parties aren¡¯t really in high-demand though, but we can still try. Anyway, once the quest has been reported as complete, your party will earn a fraction of the total gold rewarded by the quest. It¡¯s not enough for what you want, but it¡¯s much more than the ones that are available now. Is that fine with you?¡± ¡°Sure¡­¡° I resignedly agreed. ¡°Thanks.¡± ¡°Slushtea please come to the reception desk on the first floor. Bronze-rank Dubhamid is interested in aiding your quest.¡± Loud and distinct, her voice rang through the entire building, like she was speaking through an intercom. After placing down a megaphone, she procured a quest paper from the desk drawers and presented it to me. ¡°This is the only joint-party quest willing to accept bronze-rank parties at the moment.¡±
Retrieve: Silver Pocket Watch Near the eastern border of Suomi, a ruined camped lies just outside the jurisdiction of men. There should be a silver pocket watch within the bags of the deceased. Retrieve it, and the reward of 1000 gold coins is yours. Beware: furry creatures, the kin of wolves, marks this place as their territory now. I¡¯ll add 100 gold coins for every head you send back. Total: x100 + 1000 gold coins Prepare well, Captain Omuzi.
¡°Excuse me.¡± A soft and quiet voice called out to us. ¡°Are you Dubhamid?¡± I turned to the voice, and a gorgeous mix of cute and sexiness stared back. Long platinum-blonde hair, brushed back with a hint of messiness, and slightly damp below her shoulders. A pair of apathetic eyes, round and enticing with thick eyelashes and double eyelids, looked at me, then at Reccu. A grey cowl scarf wrapped around her neck; a yellow and black, long-sleeved wizardry robe covered her upper half; and white puffy pants that were string tighten just below her knees covered her lower half. Reccu nervously hid the tray of food behind her back. Improper balancing with fidgety fingers tipped the tray over, causing all of the items on the tray topsy-turvy. A loud crash rang through the building, though nothing in comparison to the rowdiness of the second floor. No matter how hard she tried to be still and invisible, her nervousness flushed her face entirely pink and lit her face. ¡°That¡¯s us.¡± I smiled and extended a handshake. ¡°Mit-Han-Rou. You must be Slushtea.¡± A small hand -- tattooed in pale red with an intricate geometric design, from her wrist to her fingertips -- grasped my hand, gave it a weak tug, then retracted. ¡°Yunbae,¡± she announced, unenthusiastically. After confirming the joint-party quest with the receptionist, Yunbae walked over to a table nearby a bookcase, picked up her grimoire and wand, and proceeded out of the front door. Reccu, on her hands and knees, struggled as she cleaned up the mess. It was a bit hard to watch those shaky hands pick up pieces of meat and placing them onto the metal tray. Never daring to face up. The receptionist came over with a spray bottle and towel to kill the stains on the floor. I picked up bits of shattered ceramics on the ground and placed them onto the metal tray, with the spoiled meat. Strangely, the more I helped, the more I became fixated on the shadows casted by Reccu. Her shadow was split in two, probably due to the nature of the lighting inside the building. But, that wasn¡¯t the strangeness. Shadows are an imitation of an object, casted by rays of light. However, the more I stared at her shadow, the more it stood out. It was too odd; it felt too alive for simply a shadow. Rather than copying Reccu¡¯s original movements, it mimicked the other shadow¡­ perfectly. Pressing my fingers against both of the shadows resulted in nothing out of the ordinary. A cold sensation as expected. And so was the hard ground that held all of us up. Possibly, the fact that I haven¡¯t eaten in so long is causing my senses to wobble. The floor-seasoned meats were still appetizing, despite their unfortunate condition. ¡°Leave the rest to me.¡± The receptionist reassured. ¡°Go on, she¡¯s waiting for you two.¡± Reccu walked out of the room with a drooping head, mumbling to herself. ¡°She¡¯s with you, right?¡± The receptionist asked. ¡°I¡¯ll keep that in mind, so go ahead. You don¡¯t want to keep Yunbae waiting.¡± I thanked her for her help and followed after Reccu through the front doors. The slightest bit of orangeness leaked out of the dark sky. Morning has arrived, and so did a wave of horses, carriages, and wagons. Many of the coaches parked to the side of the road, making it convenient to depart. Yunbae waved from within one of the carriages situated for departure. Behind the marvelous statue of Jutspi, Reccu was silently venting to herself. I hurried towards the carriage that Yunbae was waiting in, and climbed in at her discretion. Buried in her grimoire, she spared what little attention she had leftover and asked me about my readiness. Any preparations that are done in the city would have to be accomplish before departure, she advised. Though, with no money on hand, I didn¡¯t really have any worries. Other than a missing Reccu, I felt fully prepared. Speaking of the devil, Reccu stepped into the carriage, stressed, like she just got done scolding a child post-tantrum. She dropped onto the seat across from me, next to Yunbae. A long sigh escaped her lips. I wanted to ask her what that was all about, but I kept the words to myself. She didn¡¯t want to talk about it, not with that demeanor. Yunbae pried her eyes from her grimoire and asked, ¡°Are we ready to leave?¡± ¡°Ready.¡± I affirmed. Reccu had her face completely smush against the window, totally dejected from the conversation. But that didn¡¯t deter Yunbae. With a hand in her pocket, she procured a copy of the same paper that had the information of our quest. ¡°We¡¯re looking for a silver pocket watch. Leaving now should still leave us with a decent amount of time to find it without much trouble. There aren¡¯t many wolves near the border during the day, so we should be okay.¡± ¡°That¡¯s one part of the quest,¡± I added, ¡°but what about the other? A hundred gold coins per head. Are we not doing that?¡± She looked at me, unamused, and shrugged. ¡°Eh.¡± Forum: Renejaeya Recollections of Hopes: Renejaeya What lies beyond life? All of the time in the world, and I do not know. These white bones of mine are the last reminder of what was once living. Of all the time I spent staring at it... of all the times they rattle, it¡¯s still hard to believe there¡¯s no meat, no flesh. But I have no qualms. For how dead I am, I am very much alive. A greater mystery lies outside my body; a mystery I cannot unravel. These halls I¡¯m caged in, I¡¯ve walked them. The sparsely lit torches on these walls guide me. But no amount of guidance can help me escape this labyrinth. Here, in this neverending space of walls, I am trapped. Where here is, I do not know. But I know I am not alone. During the darking times of the torches, I hear a calling. It speaks to me, but not of the same way us Aislings speak with our voices.Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere. It speaks into me. Conceptions and ideas in its rawest imaginable form appears in my mind. But it is not mine. However brief it lasts I am certain it is not mine. No Aisling ¡ª not one sentient life form could produce these amalgamations. Incomprehensible, and yet, forever memorable. These mental conceptions ¡ª I cannot vocalize them. No words or language in Temuair can mediate these thoughts. How long has it been, I wonder. How many times has this place consumed my steps. There is no back or forth. No left or right. The only thing I¡¯m sure of in this perpetual darkness is the ground. The fire of these torches, I no longer trust. And as I wander through this nightmare of no wake, I realize my sense of time can no longer be a friend. There is no trust, nor guidance. But the voice still speaks. And everytime it speaks, I now etch the ground. Humans have sought immortality, but they only find the inevitable. I have come to an understanding of why it is so, of the reason for this cruel law. A withered body kills the mind, but out of mercy. No minds are meant to live this long; long enough for the flickering flames of these torches to be enjoyable. Re: Renejaeya Forum: Re:Renejaeya
xMay:?????Did no one see that post? Can''t reply to it because the thead is lock. 7:06 P.M.
codGuy: ??? thread was locked since the beginning it came up at 5:45, roughly an hour ago couldn''t reply anyway 7:21 P.M.
xMay:???? What was the post even about? Something about a person being trapped? 7:26 P.M.
codGuy: ??? dunnoA case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. i remember someone name renejaeya from one of the threads at launch 7:30 P.M.
xDjoey:???? wut u guys are getting jebaited 7:32 P.M.
xMay:???? Go away, joey. God. This is serious. What if this if is an unlockable quest? 7:35 P.M.
xDjoey:???? trololololol u cant be srs u big dum dum lul 7:36 P.M
codGuy:??? the thread was created by Renejaeya, so... maybe this person is taking RP really seriously? 7:44 P.M.
xMay:???? Role-playing outside of the game? What... 7:45 P.M.
xDjoey:??? i roleplay with my &#*% 7:46 P.M.
xDjoey:??? wtf there''s #%&*ing censorship???? 7:46 P.M.
(X) This thread has been locked by a moderator.