《polyglot("NPC_Revolution")》 Prologue - The Legend of Ashma-Cel "They aren''t using magic. Why are they still not using magic?" He looked down at the world he had created and saw the war his people were waging. It had only been thirty years since the first generation, and they were already at each other''s throats. A few dozen thousand stood lined up, a sea of ash between them. Bows, swords, pikes, even catapults. No magic. The entire point of the thing was to use magic, the point of their very existence. It took him nearly an entire semester to program the magic system, and it was installed for at least a decade, their time. He thought it might''ve been another bug in his code, but he realized soon what the problem was. The system was built upon the power of will. The human AI was generated from donors of his time, and so they had no knowledge and no belief of magic. It was likely even a forgotten word by now. And so he needed to remind them. To show them the new world he had crafted for them. He dived in and brought his usual avatar for the occasion. He would not be forgotten. Even at 25% sensory load, the sharp sting of smoke and ash flooded his senses. The cold air of the upper atmosphere pulled goosebumps from his skin. The rush of the fall flapped his cheeks and made his eyes sore from squinting too hard. He lost his awesome wizard hat on the descent. With a click of his fingers, he flashed onto the field between the armies as a bolt of lightning. Crackow! The sudden burst of blue light and tremendous thunder shocked the two armies mid-charge, but they didn''t stop their sprint until their eyes fell on him. Before them, stood a bald old man with a majestic beard. A pink star tattoo on his left cheek. Bolts of blue static arced out from his presence, pulsing out a foreign, ominous buzz. He could feel their terror. The wizard thrust his hands into the air and called forth a storm. The smell and applause of rain found them. Beneath, he sent ripples of life through the ashen field, pulling up grass and flowers to swallow the black and gray. Green moss raced outwards and up the soldiers'' legs and took root in their armor, locking some in place. When he felt the two sides had been watered enough, he flicked up a red mass of fire into the sky. Like a heartbeat, it pulsed once, twice, then exploded into an inferno that swept the battlefield. A shockwave of rain and moisture boiled into steam and into mist, before resting again on the stunned and the weary. The fighting was already over, and he had won. In the best wizard voice he could muster, he said, "Bring me your commanders." They were brought in a hurry. Both pale, rigid, sweaty. Between them, they looked the same. Leather armor, iron helmets, frightened eyes. "Stop fighting," the wizard said. "We have stopped," the first man said. "No, I mean the war." "Oh." The commander''s eyes glossed over the battlefield, his men and that of his rivals, the new meadow he was standing in, then back to the wizard. "Okay." The wizard rested his hands on his waist and nodded at them both. The commanders looked at each other, their heads bobbing up and down in nonverbal agreement to appease this alien before them, before redirecting the nodding back at the wizard. "Alrighty," he said. "Tomorrow, bring your kings or queens or leaders or whatever. I''ll have you sign a peace agreement, then I''ll teach you magic, or something."Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road. "Okay," the commander said. The wizard stared. "Well, okay then. Go home." Thousands of eyes collectively looked at him, as if his words were just a song for them to hear. They didn''t move. "Now," he ordered. In a rush, the soldiers picked themselves up, helped the others rip free from the moss and grass, and hurried home. Within minutes the wizard was alone again. He then set the simulator to run at a faster ratio so he could grab some lunch. The wizard left his avatar to sit in that field, with a stone expression like a monk in meditation, for almost a full day of their time. When he returned, he opened his eyes to find himself sitting on the floor of a wooden cabin. Lit only by torchlight, it was large enough to house a few dozen people, of which were staring into his soul with worried faces and mouths agape. They were dressed in fancy robes and jewelry. "When did this house get here?" the wizard asked. "P-pardon me, sir," a young man approached with downcast eyes. He was trembling. "Or your highness?" "It doesn''t matter." "Your majesty, we arrived to find you sitting in the rain. You didn''t respond to us, so we thought you might be... busy. So we tried covering you with branches or fabric to fight off the water. It... it only made it worse, so we decided to build this temple in your honor. To keep you from the elements." The wizard looked at him with narrow eyes as his mind parsed what the guy was saying. He realized he was soaked, but at a quarter sensory load, he could hardly tell. "I-I apologize for any offense, sir!" "I told you we shouldn''t have done it," a woman hushed in the back. More whispers and grumbles in agreement and objection. "It''s fine," the wizard said. He stood up and looked around at his new audience. It seemed they had brought the entire royal family of both sides. A few closest to him shook back and kneeled, prompting the others to follow suit. "Guys, you don''t have to¡ª" "Great warrior," an old man interrupted. "Please forgive our ignorance, but we know not who you are." "I''m a wizard." He tilted his head in thought. There likely wouldn''t be a better time to tell them the truth. "I am the creator." Some pulled their heads up to take in what he had just said. Mouths fell open, eyes widened. The old man grasped at his heart. "So... so you are God?" This was a bad idea, and he could feel the social anxiety grip at his core. "No! Sorry, I meant the creator of magic. I am the original wizard." A collective sigh and the tension in the room deflated. "Look, man," he continued. "You don''t have to be so formal. Just talk to me like you would talk to anyone." A smile eased across the old man''s face, crow''s feet gripped at his eyes. "Thank you, great wizard. Now, why have you summoned us here this day?" "In exchange for a hundred-year peace between your nations, I will offer the gift of magic." *** "And so, even a child such as this can create a flame." He kneeled down and molded her hand to a snapping motion. With a little extra help from impromptu coding, he clicked her small fingers. ¡°Fire,¡± she whispered as she had learned. With a faint click, a roar of fire leapt up. Its heat pushed their faces away, and its flames licked at the ceiling before vanishing into gasps and cheers. The lecture was a success. By now the people were much more comfortable with the wizard and rushed him with more questions. Ideas about what types of magic, how it could be used for war or trade or daily life. Their excitement was contagious, for even he hadn''t given it that much thought. Before he could answer any of them, he felt the pain of anxiety return. Yet this, this wasn''t anxiety. The pain and cramps and terror in his gut were the result of his most recent, his most grave mistake. Week-old leftovers from the Stella Vallis shrimp festival was not a good idea. It was time to leave. Without realizing it, his expression had turned dark and his arms wrapped tight across his body. "Master wizard," the queen said, "are you well?" "My... time is short in this realm." He could feel the sweat bead on his forehead. "I must... I must go." Some of the people still had questions to ask. It was too soon for them. "Where are you from?" "What will we do from now on?" "What will become of us?" "Oh no," the wizard muttered. "What is your name?" His eyes widened, and his gaze drifted across the room. He felt cold and empty and defeated. The unthinkable happened. With a voice so low, an utterance so barely audible, he spoke. "I shit myself." And with those words, he vanished from them forever. 1 - Distant Shores Sapphire. Ivory. Gold. An array of vibrant colors fading and mixing and harmonizing with the rolling and stretching clouds that hung in the sky, all streaked and swirling like oil on water ¨C acrylic on canvas. A static rush of waves against the shore. Sunlight that warmed my skin. Damp long hair that brushed against my back, swayed by the breeze that whispered through the treetops, bringing with it the smell of pine and salt. The moist sand between my toes and the cold water that spilled over my feet to rise past my ankles. I jumped back. The water was freezing cold, and with the breeze, I was starting to shiver. I looked around to see where I was. A beach, of course, on the edge of a forest. There were no structures in sight, no other people, and beyond the caw of the gulls, no other sign of life. Where am I, I thought. What was I doing? I was answered only by the wind in the trees. It must''ve been one of those survival games - they usually began like this. I started off into the forest to look for resources. Only three steps in, and I realized I was barefoot. I was in a high sensory load survival game, and they didn''t have the decency to give me sandals? This was no joke. As I looked at my now dirty feet, I noticed the hair that fell down the sides of my face. Wait, am I... I felt around to check myself. Beneath the simple white dress, I was a girl. Was I always a girl? As if I struck a bell that echoed far into the distance, the question resounded into my mind and into my soul, and I had no answer. "Who am I?" The soft voice that escaped my lips was foreign, but there was no doubting that it came from me. I stood there on the edge of the forest with wide eyes and a heart that felt like it was dropped into my gut. My mind raced, and my chest pounded the more I searched for an answer, yet I found nothing. I had no idea who I was or where I was from or what I was doing or why I was even here. I was just a girl with sandy feet and two handfuls of rocks. All I could recall was that this was a game, and even that I wasn''t sure of. Maybe this was just a lapse of memory. Like walking into a kitchen and forgetting what I came in for. Maybe I should see a doctor when I get done. Maybe it''s just a rare bug after a login. I did log in, right? I took a deep breath. It was probably just nothing. It might just be a hardcore survival sim that wipes the person''s memory. Like a tournament or something. That''s what it had to be! A tournament. If that were the case, the other players might be going through the same thing, the same internal struggle. I must be ahead if that''s the case. With my newfound resolve, I sprinted out into the woods, grabbing as many rocks and sticks I could find. I ripped a sleeve off my gown and tied off one end to make a long pouch, which I filled to the brim with rocks and sticks of various sizes. Some could be thrown, others could be used to make tools with. When I felt I had enough, I swung out my hand to open the crafting menu. Nothing appeared. "Oh." It must''ve been one of those super hardcore survival sims. It would explain why every sensation was amplified to the highest level. Was that even safe? Getting stabbed was terrifying even at 50%, and this game must¡¯ve been running closer to 90. Hell, most games didn¡¯t even give the option to dive at anything higher than 75. I shrugged off the thought. This meant I needed to make all this shit by hand. I didn''t even know how to make string. I gave it some thought. In a forest, sticks are everywhere, so I tossed them aside. I could just use the rocks as projectiles or the bag as a blunt weapon. At least until I could remember how to make rope or string. In the meantime, I walked through the trees until I found a clearing. As if it held some special importance, pillars of sunlight broke through the canopy of leaves and fell unto an old house - a cabin or a church. It had a thin tower attached to the side, with moss and ivy climbing along the stonework. When I got closer, I could see that the door was open. Loot! When I felt no other players were near, I ran the distance and jumped inside. It was a warm, cozy place. Well decorated and perfectly designed. For a moment I was in awe for whichever developer put it together. The windows were stained glass with little etchings of whatever lore or language was here. Candles placed on any flat surface that could contain one. A framed painting of some bearded guy with a pink star on his cheek. An inviting bed, a desk with hyper-realistic ink and parchment, and a table with a fresh meal and a basket of fruit. Food!Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. I wasn''t even hungry, but I knew the importance of food and drink in these games. I stuffed my face like a wild animal, stopping only when I thought I heard a noise. When I could physically eat no more, I dumped some of the rocks out on the table and tossed the fruit in the pouch. I froze in place. There was a voice outside the house, two of them! Players were already creating alliances? This was bad news. I eased back from the table, hoping to hide under a bed or closet, but the floor creaked under what little weight I had. The door clicked open. "And this is your outpost, deputy. This is where..." the voice trailed off. I stared at them with wide eyes, frozen mid-stride to the bedroom, a lumpy bag in my hand, and a mouth full of half-chewed apples. The two players already had armor, iron helmets and swords that hung at their waists. Was I really this far behind? "What are you doing?" the taller man asked. I took another step, my eyes never leaving them. The window was just on the other side of the room, and with my rock bag, I could¡¯ve probably shattered through it. "Stop moving," he said. I took another step and gulped down the mouthful of apples. I eased my hand to the bag and dug around for a rock. "Stop that," he warned. "Don''t do it." His companion looked around and started off to the other side of the building. There were trying to outflank me! I thrust my hand into the bag and found the biggest rock I could get. "Don''t even¡ª" It was too late. I threw my projectile with such tremendous force, I felt it might break the sound barrier. When it hit his helmet, it exploded into a fine paste of green and white. I hit him with a pear. The man stood unmoving, now soaked with bits of fruit and juice. As I realized my mistake, the side door behind me slammed open. The younger guy locked eyes with me. "Ma''am, I need you to calm down. Ma''am - wait, stop!" I was already mid-leap to the window. When my body made contact, the glass swung on its hinges, and I toppled over the side and into the grass. I scrambled to my feet, and just as I was about to sprint to freedom, I was stopped. Almost a dozen others were standing outside, some chuckling to themselves, others wordlessly staring daggers into me. I didn''t bring enough rocks for all of them, but I wasn''t done yet. "Deputy Jones!" a husky, older voice barked out. "What in the hells are you doing?" I took the moment of confusion to dart off to the side, to break the blockade and slip by them. Their encumbrance should''ve been high with all that armor, and I was certain to have the stamina to outrun them. The younger guy stood in my path like a linebacker, sidestepping to whatever route he''d think I would take. "Ma''am, please," he begged. Waves of irritation and adrenaline ripped through me. Getting killed in games with high sensory loads was awful, but what I truly hated was losing against zerg guilds. "You buncha tryhards!" I yelled. "Grouping up on us noobs!" I dug out a rock - a real rock this time - and hurled it at the young deputy. It plinked off his helmet. "Ma''am, please." He started to approach with ready hands. He was trying to capture me! It must be that kind of guild, where they kidnap new players. That''s probably what they all were. Once-kidnapped noobs who were Stockholm syndromed into becoming tryhards. I threw the bag at the group, not bothering to aim, and scurried up the stone tower like a squirrel. I soon reached the top, forced to wrap my arms around the thinnest part of the conical roof to rest myself. "Sir, I think she''s lost it," the young guy said. "We need to get her some help." The group laughed. "Deputy, this outpost is your responsibility," the gruff man said. "You''re all a bunch of larping weirdos!" I shouted. "Halt!" A voice cried out from the edge of the clearing. It was a woman on horseback. She was adorned in red and white robes; pink stars lined her sleeves. With her, two similarly dressed riders were at her side. "What is the meaning of this? Captain Thomas, why is there a civilian on the cabin?" "Priestess, I do not know," the gruff man said. "She''s crazy, we think." "Ma''am, please," the young guy pleaded with me. "Get down from there." "No!" I yelled. My mind raced for a plan, any solution to get away from this group. Running wasn''t an option, and I knew I was out-geared for a fight. All I had left was my cunning. "Priestess, lady!" I called out. "These guys were trying to kill me!" "No we weren''t," the taller man said. "We found you eating our food." "Don''t believe to their lies, priestess!" If there were a divide among their alliance, I might''ve been able to drive a wedge into it. A perfect plan. "They are the crazy ones!" I looked down at her, hoping my desperation could reach her. In return, she lifted her hand at me with her palm facing up. I was confused by the gesture, but then I felt it. My entire body began to vibrate, and I started to feel lighter. It was easier to hold my weight against the tower, so much that it felt like I was lifting myself off from it. I was floating away from it! My helpless body struggled to find balance, and I flailed around like a cat as I floated away from the stonework, into an open area, before finally drifting into the grass. Was that magic? "What the hell kind of game are we playing?" I asked as I struggled to my feet. "Young lady," the priestess said. "Where did you come from?" I dusted myself off. I was defeated, and I knew it. "I started at the shore." One of the riders whispered to her. She nodded him away. "So you are one of them." I tilted my head at the accusation. I didn''t know who they were, but it sounded important, so I took the gamble. I crossed my arms and planted my feet in the grass, as any hero should. "Of course I am!" "Arrest her." "What? No. No!" My eyes darted around at the group who were converging on me. "I''m not one of them!¡± It was too late. I was tackled and pinned down and taken captive. The handcuffs were cold against my skin. They brought me to the priestess as if she were the arbiter for my crimes, and I looked up at her with eyes of spite. "Fine. Kill me. This game is lame anyway." She offered a smile, pointed her hand at my face, and snapped her fingers. 2 - New Arrival An unfamiliar ceiling, red and beige, sophisticated designs that tiled across from wall to wall. I eased up and wiped the sleep from my eyes. The soft, luxurious bed squeaked under me as I shifted around. Where am I? I looked around for an answer. It was a bedroom fit for a princess, like a fancy inn or a five-star hotel from the middle ages. A dresser on the other wall held a mirror flanked by unlit candles. The window was left open and let in pale sunlight and a breeze that rustled the curtains. I yawned. How long was I asleep? Did that lady kill me? Is this where I respawn? I pushed the heavy comforter off me and dropped myself onto the carpet. My feet were clean. How did they get clean? I was naked. Why was I naked? I looked for my tattered gown before my eyes rested on the chair. Pairs of clothes were neatly folded and on top was a card with handwriting. "For the lunatic." Free items were always welcome, especially clean ones. Black underclothes, brown pants, white shirt, brown jacket, black boots. Not particularly fashionable, but it was to be expected of cheap starter gear. "Am I a guest of honor or a prisoner?" I asked myself as I dressed. "Neither," a voice said. The door squeaked open, and a maid walked in. She was short and young, wore a black and white dress with ribbons in her hair. "If you are ready, please follow me, madame." She led me through what I soon learned was a mansion. Rows and floors of rooms, decorated with sculptures and art and plants that I''ve never seen before. High ceilings and cinnamon potpourri. Candlelights and stained-glass windows. Paintings and bronze busts of old mages, or rather, different versions of the same wizard ¨C the bearded old fart with the star on his cheek. She brought me to the lowest level. Marble floors lined a vast hall, lit entirely by huge chandeliers. Here, lines of desks and scores of robed people to man the desks sat waiting, shuffling papers and dipping quills in ink. It felt like I walked into a bank. "Have a pleasant stay, madame," the maid said. "Wait, what am I supposed to do?" She sighed and pointed at a machine in the far corner. "Grab a number, then go to the desk with that number. Then ask." "Oh. Okay, thanks." I still had no idea what game I was playing, but it didn''t look fun. Maybe this was just the starting zone, like a lame way to do character creation or skills. I walked over to the machine, pulled a paper number from the roll, and walked to the corresponding desk. "Ex-excuse me," I said. The man stopped scribbling on the scroll and looked up at me. "Sit, please." I did. "Um..." "One second," he said. He scratched at his perfectly trimmed goatee and went back to scribbling. I let my eyes wander his desk. There was a stack of papers on one side, a stack on the other. A basket of rolled up scrolls behind him, and some cabinets with even more documents. I thought he might''ve been a fantasy desk jockey, maybe even an unemployed larper who was living out his dream job. Then I saw the placard. Jacob Reyman, Lvl 30 Bureaumancer. "Great!" he said. "Let''s get you started." "Thanks." "Now are you a player or a nipsy?" "What?" "Are you a PC or an NPC?" "Uh, PC." "Are you sure?" "I''m pretty sure, yeah," I said. "Open your status screen," he tested. "I... thought we didn''t have screens." "Players have screens. We don''t have screens." He''s an NPC? He was so incredibly lifelike in his demeanor, his movements, his everything. He was utterly indistinguishable from an ordinary player diving in from full sensory VR. I wasn''t entirely convinced. "Don''t be shy," he continued, "show me." "How?" "Swipe your hand." I lifted my hand in front of me and eased it across as I would in any other game. Nothing happened. He saw this, gave me a nod, and went down to his scroll.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. "NPC," he mumbled to himself, presumably to check off a box somewhere. "No, there must be a mistake," I said. "Well until you can show me a status screen, I have to check this off." "No, I started from the shore and everything," I said. "Isn''t that the starter zone?" "No, the players start in the town square. At least for this region." "Well, where did you start?" "What?" he asked with an amused grin. "I didn''t start anywhere. I was born and raised here." I crossed my arms and looked away. "I started on the shore. It''s the first thing I remember about this place." "And before that?" "I... forgot what I was doing before that." He put his quill down and nodded. He narrowed his eyes at me, then drifted elsewhere as if searching for a memory. His eyes brightened as if he found it, then opened his drawers and cabinets in search of something. "Yes, I''ve heard of this." I was already tired of the whole affair, and I knew my irritation bled through my words. "Of what?" He shuffled around a bottom cabinet before finally finding a scroll, no different from the rest. "Ah, yes. You¡¯re one of them," he said to himself. ¡°I am not one of them,¡± I said. "We have a list of those who claimed to have lost their memories, typically coming from the shore or the forests. Probably a dozen or so names here.¡± His eyes skimmed the paper. ¡°The last we''ve heard of someone starting at the shore was about¡­ thirty years ago, and according to this, that individual was also a nipsy." I shook my head at him. "Nope. Not me." "Well, I''ve heard of people having trouble believing in such. Personality disorders and the like. Don''t worry, it''s nothing to be ashamed of, it¡¯s an illness like any other, so if you think that you¡ª" "It doesn''t matter!" I barked. "Just list me as a damn nipsy! Or NPC, whatever." He drew a sharp breath and feigned a smile. If anything, I admired his patience. "Alright, and your name?" "Alex." As soon as I said it, my heart stopped. Was that actually my name? Was it only by instinct that I replied with this name? "Okay," he said as he scribbled on his paper. "And since you''re here, I presume you''re looking for employment as an adventurer?" "Yes." "Have you been appraised yet?" "What?" "Alright, and that about does it." "So now what? Do I get appraised?" "Take this form, go get your stats appraised, choose a class, then skills, then you''re free to roam as a free person." Hearing those words gave me excitement. Classes and skills were the tried and true of RPG fantasy and starting at the bottom of a brave new world was something to look forward to. I smiled. "Thanks," I said, and left for the appraisers. The entire process was the most Kafkaesque experience I''ve ever had in my entire life. I showed up with the form from the bureaumancer, but I needed a form F225 first. So I went back to find that, but to get that form, I needed identification. Since I wasn''t born in this world, and I still couldn''t open my status screen, I had to get an entirely new form - the F213b. That form needed to be authenticated by a bureaumancer no less than level 50, which could only be met with an appointment between the hours of 0800 and 0930, on Tuesdays and Sundays. When I complained, they apologized. When I threatened them, they directed me to go to the temple gardens and find the Lord Priest. "And that''s why I''m here," I explained. "I see," the priest said. "No identity, no origin, no status screen. Distant shores and untold beginnings," he chuckled to himself. "Very well, I will sign off on your documents." I sighed in relief. "Thank you, sir. Now I can finally get appraised." "I''ll do that as well. Hand me your paper." My eyes lit up at the convenience. He might''ve been an unassuming older man, incredibly tall and perfectly bald, but he was calm and patient and had the voice of a lion. He took the paper and ran his finger over each section, glancing at me, back at the paper, and again until he reached the bottom. "It is done," he said as he handed the form back. "Already?" I glanced it over. Strength: 3 Wisdom: 7 Intellect: 9 Dexterity: 4 Charisma: 10 "You see," he said as I glazed over the paper. "I have... special eyes." "Is... is this good?" I asked. "It''s great. "The cap is 10, right?" "For new adventurers, yes. Beyond that, there is no cap." How did he even know all this? Did he genuinely have special eyes, or was he just eyeballing it? "I see. Thank you, sir." "I advise you choose the mage class. From there you can specialize however you like." "Mage sounds good. I think I''ll do that." He nodded with a fatherly smile. "Then what skills would you like to start out with? Ice, water, fire," he said as he rolled his hand. "Fire!" He grinned at my enthusiasm. "A smart choice." He reached over to the nearest plant and plucked off a leaf. "Normally you will need scrolls to learn magic, purchased by whatever means, usable only at a sufficient level." "How do I level up? I don''t have a screen." "The screens are only for the players. Their progression system is entirely different." He drifted his hand over the leaf, an etching burning into it. "You level up in the same way a martial artist does or a carpenter. An apprentice chef may cook decent scrambled eggs, but only a master can cook a meal fit for a king. Your skills are not defined by your level, but your level is defined by your skills." "I see." "The limitation on scrolls is to prevent novice casters from hurting themselves on a high-level spell. The entire system is a careful balance." He held up the leaf, inspected his work, and handed it to me. "Simply place your hand over it, and you will learn your new spell." I took the leaf by the stem and squinted at the writing. Only a single word was burned in: fire(). I had seen such a thing before, but I could not recall where. Without worrying any further, I placed my hand on the word. In a flash, the leaf turned to smoke and ash before disintegrating into dust. "Go ahead, try it," he said. "H-how?" I asked. I thrust out an open palm, but nothing came out. "You have the skill, the knowledge, the legal right. You can do it any way you choose, but you must choose to believe." "Hmm." I looked up at the sky, drew my arms to my side as if I were powering a spirit beam, and thrust it upward. "Fire!" It was as though my arms were firehoses that sprayed out gasoline and my words the spark that ignited it. In a flash, a fireball manifested above us, bathing us in an orange-red glow, before blinking out as quickly as it came. The experience took my breath away. "Very impressive," he said. "A ferocious flame. Ashma-Cel would be proud. Your trainers will emphasize discipline, but you at least have the basics done." He plucked off another leaf and started to etch into it. "Seeing your skill with my own eyes, I will authorize your immediate advancement to level 5." My eyes widened with excitement, and I was still breathless from the spell. "Th-thank you, sir!" "Be sure to get some rest. Magic draws from your stamina." He handed me the leaf. "Take this to your first trainer. You''ll find her at the cabin by the shore." 3 - The White Lions I stepped out into the courtyard of the mansion and drew in the brisk afternoon air. The place was alive with people coming and going, in and out of the starting area, but I had not yet seen any players besides myself. The people were dressed in all sorts of fashion - robes and jackets and exquisite dresses. Some even sported stranger, dare I say, fantasy gear. High collar coats that hung past the knees, skimpy leather armor that looked more like fetish gear, and one guy even had horns sticking out of his wrist plates. When I walked to the edge of the courtyard, I found the world. Below me down the steps, the port city was filled with houses and shops and taverns, split by the winding cobblestone roads that each held their own army of busy people going to and fro. Beyond the rooftops of this lively city, I saw the ocean touch the sky. Ships were docked in the trading area, some coming and some embarking to a faraway land. Seeing so much blue and taking in this pure, life-giving air was a stark contrast to the life I''ve led back home - the bubble worlds of red deserts and thin atmospheres. Wasn''t it? I could hardly recall. I walked down the steps and into the market, pushing through the lunch crowds to steal a glance of what was for sale. Trade items - linens, cotton, silk, smith''s tools. Weapons - bows, axes, swords, and shields. Apparel, food, entertainment, information, guilds. Guilds! Some recruiters were stopping passersby to advertise openings in their clans or groups or mercenary factions, each offering a steady paycheck to nipsies and experience to players. I caught sight of the first player there in the market, at least I was sure it was a player, as no person could shamelessly go shopping for armor while wearing nothing but skimpy underclothes. The shopkeepers'' faces were glowing red as the girl stripped down for each offered set of armor, both to ensure the fit and to amuse herself with their reactions. Her comrades - some low-level knights and mages - had doubled over in laughter at the sight. Another merchant was having an argument with one of the players. Both were snapping insults at each other about some nonsense ¨C prices, probably ¨C and it looked like they were ready to start stabbing each other. A nearby guard hurried over. His domineering presence alone was enough to shut them both up. I didn¡¯t know what level the guard was, but it had to have been crazy. ¡°Typical players,¡± a voice said with malice, almost as a threat. I wasn¡¯t alone. Standing next to me was an older man, balding white hair, eyes squinted with age. This guy was clearly a stage 2 creeper. ¡°Uh, what?¡± ¡°They do this sort of thing all the time,¡± the old man said. ¡°All the time, all the time.¡± ¡°The players?¡± I asked. He nodded. ¡°They cheat, they steal, they trespass. They think they can get away with anything.¡± This dude was obviously some kind of ist, though I didn¡¯t know which ist he would be. We had racists, nationalists, sexists, but I wasn¡¯t sure what type of prejudice was being practiced here. Playerist? Nipsyist? Whatever the case, I didn¡¯t want to let him know I was a player. That was a level of awkward I was not prepared for. Yet I did not want to completely walk away. The NPCs of this world were so incredibly realistic in how they acted and behaved, it was mesmerizing. He was so¡­ free. ¡°Do a lot of nipsies hate players?¡± I asked. ¡°Huh? Oh.¡± He scratched at the back of his neck. ¡°I¡¯m probably one of the few with my head on straight. These youngsters haven¡¯t seen a damn thing, not a damn thing, so they don¡¯t know a damn thing.¡± His eyes turned dark, his smile devious. He snapped his attention to me, glancing around for others nearby ¨C we were in a crowd, but none seemed to notice us. He eased down into a whisper. ¡°You seem like a smart girl. A smart girl, yes. You ought to come player-killing with us.¡±This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it ¡°Oh,¡± I murmured. Getting stabbed by a wandering creeper was not on my to-do list. ¡°I, uh, I¡¯m a pacifist.¡± I grimaced, for even I knew how unbelievable that excuse was. I looked around for any avenue of escape. He paused. The color drained from his face. Did he figure me out already? He stepped closer, his eyes unblinking and vacant as he reached into his pocket. I stumbled back. ¡°You,¡± he uttered. ¡°You are¡ª" I punched him in the face. I didn¡¯t even need to ¨C I just panicked. The old guy yelped and tumbled to the ground. People in the crowd began to turn to watch the commotion, and before I realized it, I was the center of attention, standing like a villain who had just decked a senior citizen. This was bad. Whispers and murmurs. Pointed fingers and accusatory glances. The old man writhed in exaggerated agony. Then the guards came. ¡°Ma¡¯am,¡± the guard said from underneath his helmet, ¡°explain what happened here.¡± He gestured at the old man who was still curled up in the fetal position. ¡°Why did you punch this old dude?¡± ¡°I, uh,¡± I stammered. ¡°He was about to¡ª" ¡°He was about to attack her,¡± a girl said behind me. I looked over to see a dark-skinned girl, my height, with blonde hair and white tattoos. Her suit of armor was scuffed and dinged up, and a taller boy stood beside her. ¡°I am also a witness.¡± The guy was young, my age, with windswept black hair and a confident smile. This was the avatar of the weeaboo. He was dressed in heavy white robes and held a long wood staff. It looked like a thin piece of driftwood. ¡°She was only defending herself.¡± The guard stared at us for a painful few seconds, then at the old man, then back at us before nodding. Maybe he was sizing us up, maybe he was plotting a murder. Regardless, the guard¡¯s icy stare chilled me to my core, and I wanted to be far away from here. ¡°Fine,¡± he said. ¡°Just keep out of trouble.¡± I sighed. The tension deflated in the market square. The crowd returned to its usual business, the possible serial killer was scooped off the ground and carried away, and the world kept on turning. ¡°Thanks,¡± I said, looking over at the couple who helped me. They were staring me down with hungry, predatory eyes and a lust for adventure. "Don¡¯t worry about it,¡± the guy said with a charming smile. It was contagious. ¡°Hey, you seem new, what level are you?" The girl kicked the back of his knee. "Ow! Sorry, I¡¯m Smith." His voice was wine. "I''m Simone!¡± the girl said. ¡°Level 3 Knight!" Her voice was a strawberry smoothie. "Smith is still just a level 1 healer.¡± "I''m... I''m Alex. I''m a soon-to-be level 5 mage. It''s nice to meet you." "Oh sweet," Smith said. "Hey, we''re looking for members for a new guild I''m trying to start." He presented a scroll. On it, a couple names had been scribbled, and beneath them, a number of blank lines remained. "We only need a few more signatures to start." I gave it a good look over. The White Lions, he wanted to call it. I originally wanted to explore the world solo before I found a group. "Hmm..." "Ha. How about I sweeten the deal," he said. "10 gold?" "Is that a lot?" "Well," he trailed off. "He has a few hundred," Simone said with a wink. I smiled back. I was already sold by their chemistry, and it was the least I could do after they just saved me. "Alright." I took their writing pen, surprisingly not a quill this time, and wrote in my name before handing the scroll back. "Now what?" "Thanks!" Smith said. "Now we keep looking for a few more. Keep in touch until then!" "Wait, how?" I asked. "I can''t just call you from the other side of town, I don''t think." "Oh yeah, here." He brought up his hand and swung open his menu. It was a floating blue holograph that held an array of information. "How did you open that?" I spit out. "I can''t get mine to work." I mimicked the motion, but my screen still didn''t open. Smith chuckled at the attempt. "It''s because you''re an NPC, right?" I crossed my arms at the accusation. "No," I said with narrowed eyes. "I''m not.¡± Smith pulled his confused expression to Simone as if she could help him in this awkward moment. She gave me an empty smile and said, "We can see who the players are and..." I scoffed. "It''s fine," I waved away the tension. "It''s probably just a bug or something." They laughed at the thought. "Anyway," he continued, "take this item." He pulled up a list, tapped on a selection, and a small paper ribbon manifested in front of him. Catching it, he pushed the menu out of existence and handed the paper to me. "Whenever you want to chat, just use this." I picked it up from one end and inspected it like it was a type of fish. They chuckled at me. "You write on it," Simone said. "It''ll pop up on our feed, and our chat also connects to yours. It won''t work until the guild is started." I shrugged and pulled my hair back into a ponytail, using the ribbon to tie it in place. Smith laughed, to my confusion, before catching sight of another passerby. "Oh, that dudes a rogue, I think. Hey! Excuse me!" He took off after the other stranger. Simone tossed me a handful of coins. "You''re a strange one," she smiled. "I like that." She chased after Smith and disappeared into the crowd. 4 - The Fire Mage I stood outside the door of the cabin. This was where I would find the mage trainer to certify my level, but there was a problem. This was the place from yesterday. The entire walk here I avoided eye contact with every person I passed and even then I could feel the glares. Was I just imagining it? Did they recognize me? The voices inside were having a conversation, something casual I thought. I didn''t want to be a pest, so I waited for the perfect opportunity, the perfect lull to knock. When the moment came, I raised up my fist, and¡ª The door opened. Standing there was the young guard from yesterday, the one who kept calling me ma''am. He stared down at me with wide eyes, mouth open from the shock and confusion, and he eased the door back shut in front of me. My fist still raised, frozen in a knocking motion, my body unmoving as I stood in disbelief. That turd ignored me! I kicked the door hard enough to rattle the frame. It opened again. "Fruit girl!" he yelled. His body had tensed, ready for a fight. I felt the blood rush to my face, both in anger and in embarrassment. "I''m... I''m here for the fire mage!" I shouted. "And I brought this as an apology." I held up a small bushel of apples. It was the least I could do, and it cost half the money I had. I hoped the gift might take the brunt of the awkwardness. He stared at me with a blank expression for a moment. A woman behind him called out. "Bring her in." "Yes, priestess," he said. I walked around him, not bothering to even glance at the boy, and made my way inside. The place was mostly unchanged, but now it smelled of sulfur and ash. The priestess was sitting at the table, half writing in a document, half studying an unlit candle. She was adorned in the same robes as yesterday, but with her hair pulled past her ear and glasses on her face. The lady was older than me I thought, in her thirties but with porcelain skin of a girl a decade her junior. She did not look up from her work when she spoke. "So the lunatic wants to play with fire." The young guard chuckled as he stepped out into the grass to leave. I could feel my ears getting hot. "Sorry about before. I brought something as an apology." I handed her the bushel. "Thank you." She set her quill down and took an apple. With a bite, she nodded at the chair across from her. "Sit." I eased into the chair and glanced at her work. The candle wasn''t unlit at all, but instead, a tiny white flame lined the edges of the wick, not even giving off smoke. A pool of hot candlewax sat at the top. "Oh, I met with the Lord Priest this morning," I said. "He told me to bring you this." I presented the leaf. She took it, studied it, then placed it on the candle. It caught the flame, and she set it on a metal plate to let it burn. "Level 5 in less than a day. That''s impressive." "Thanks." "But you have much to learn." She stared at the burning leaf as she spoke, the fires dancing in her eyes. "What color is your flame?" "Uh, red?" "Just red? No yellows, no blues or whites?" "No, just red. Maybe a hint of yellow? The same color as the leaf right now. Just regular fire colored." "And you are aware that the colors can change?" I gave it some thought. I remembered reading before that fires would behave differently given the circumstances. A fire in zero-g would be circular. An efficient fuel source would make it white or blue. "I''ve heard of that, but how does that work with magic?" "You are the fuel. Your essence, your soul, your stamina and energy. You are the spark that brings it life and the means for it to live."You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story. "Wouldn''t the fire just burn me to a crisp?" She smiled. "Yes. And that is where discipline comes in. This is why we can''t have novice mages learning spells that use white or blue flames. Without knowing how to control the fire, the fuel, or yourself, you would melt your face off." "Speaking of, did you kill me yesterday?" "I''m sorry, what?" She tilted her head in confusion. "I woke up in the¡ª" "Oh! No, of course not!" She laughed. "I put you to sleep. Both to pacify you and to test you." "Test me?" "Sleep spells do not work on players effectively. Their souls in the other world maintain themselves, and for some reason, their bodies here will often vanish after. That''s how I knew you were one of us." I wanted to snap at her, to vent out my frustration, but I knew to be patient with her as she was with me. Whether she was wrong or not, I needed her to teach me magic. "Well, thanks for not melting my face, I guess." She burst into laughter. "Oh, you are quickly becoming one of my favorites. My humble, cute acolyte." I felt my face flush, and I looked away. I needed to redirect the conversation. "So how do I learn new skills?" "Experimentation, usually." The leaf finished burning, and she used a small rod to shift around the ashes. "The possibilities are almost endless. Fireballs, streams of flame, combustion, waves of heat. This all comes with the base fire spell, and you won''t always need a scroll to learn something new." "Almost endless?" I asked. "Within the law, of course." The law sounded like a pain in the ass. If I wanted to create a volcano, I should be able to create a volcano. I considered maybe I would need a volcano license. "So I won''t need to find a trainer to learn better fire spells?" "You will. Continue to train, and search within yourself for the answers. You will find your flames become paler and more intense. When that happens, I will teach you Flare." I felt a twinge of excitement and impatience. "Do I get to learn anything now? I''m level 5 now, right?" "Yes, you are certified. Once I finish my work here, I''ll put in the paperwork. For now, I''ll go ahead and get you a few scrolls to get started. She got up from her seat and walked over to a shelf, on it a stack of papers and bound scrolls. She dug around for a few pieces and brought them back to the table. "I''m out of Earth, but I have Wind and Water." "Earth?" "Basically you throw rocks at people. It''s a shame I''m out of them, you seem to be good at that," she giggled. I smiled. "I''ll make do with this. Thanks." I took the first scroll and looked at it. It was incredibly small, perhaps it shouldn''t even be called a scroll - more like a strip of parchment. The paper was velvety to the touch, and it smelled like an old book. "Why are you sniffing them?" She burst into laughter. "Just put your hand over the top!" "Sorry!" I stole one more glance at the writing. Like the leaf, it held a single word: water(). I rested my hand on it, and it flashed into dust. The other scroll, wind(), did the same thing. Within me, something clicked, and without even trying, I knew how to conjure a gust or squeeze a cup of water from my fist. "Thank you, priestess." "My pleasure," she smiled. "Do other magic spells exist? Stuff that isn''t the usual elements?" "They do," she said. "But with those, due care must be taken. I urge you to focus on these for the time being, and when you''re a higher level, you may have the opportunity for further growth." "I see," I said, somewhat disappointed. "Do you have any questions?" "I do, actually. What¡¯s up with the bearded guy in that picture?¡± She followed my glance over to the painting ¨C an old portrait of what looked like a homeless person ¨C and when she realized, she broke into laughter. ¡°That¡¯s Ashma-Cel!¡± ¡°Ashy what?¡± ¡°Ashma-Cel,¡± she repeated. ¡°That is the father of all magic, the one who brought it to the people those hundreds of years ago.¡± ¡°So is he like a god or something?¡± ¡°He¡¯s a wizard,¡± she said plainly. ¡°Neat,¡± I said, already bored. ¡°What else can you tell me about this world?" "This world? You mean our world. When you talk like that you sound like a player." "And the players? Isn''t it just... I dunno, weird?" "Yes," she said. "Very." She looked out the window in thought. "The era of peace has ended, and the gate is open again. The ''new season,'' as they call it, has just started." "I don''t understand." She looked back at me, into me. "The players first arrived a little over twenty years ago. From their world, their reality, their dimension. I was just a teenager at the time. When they came, so much changed so quickly." "Do you hate them?" "Of course not!" she chuckled. "They''re great for the economy, and they bring new ideas and tales along with them. Even certain nations like to use them for warfare since it is apparent they don''t fear death. When I have work that needs to be done, I''ll send them on a quest to take care of some errands. Since they seem to only be here for about six months, we try to squeeze their worth the best we can." It didn''t make sense to me. A twenty-year gap with no players? No game lasts that long without ever needing a technological overhaul. Whatever the case, she seemed to like them. "So they''re good then." "Not always, my dear acolyte. Like any group of people, some are bad, and some are good. The worst part about them is that they have no sense of consequence." 5 - The First Quest I was sitting on a bench at the pier when the ribbon in my hair vibrated. I set down my sandwich, pulled it out, and looked it over. Words were fading in as if some invisible force were driving its pen into it. Smith: Hey, grats everyone, we got the guild up and running. Trell: Thank you. Simone: The White Lions are open for business! Relce: Okay bruh, let''s do some questing. Smith: Anyone found anything yet? Trell: The butcher has a quest. I was fascinated by the lines of text that would fade in while the past ones would fade away. It was a stream of communication, and it was getting hard to keep up. How would I join the conversation? Smith: Go on. Trell: We kill wild boars. Simone: Ew. How many? Trell: However many you want. He''s a butcher. Smith: What''s the reward? Trell: We get 350g per head, but you guys will get half that in gold and double that in XP. Smith: That sounds kinda crappy. Simone: No, that''s good money, and it sounds easy. Relce: Dude, that''s two levels. Smith: Alright. Let''s do it. Alex, you coming? I panicked. How do I reply? Do I write something? I need a pen! The only person nearby was a guy fishing. "Sir, do you have a pen I can borrow?" "Sure," he said. He swiped open a menu, tapped an icon, and waved it away. The pen fell into his hand. "Just keep it, I have more." "Th-thanks," I said. I thought he was a nipsy like I was. No, I''m a bugged-out player. Right? I shook off the thought and wrote in my reply. Alex: Yeah! I''ll meet you there. Smith: Sweet. Simone and I will be there in about 10. So now I would have my first quest. The game was looking great, and once I was done breaking myself into this new world, then I could debug my situation. And besides, even at 99% sensory load, the body would pull me out of the game when I fall asleep. There was nothing to worry about. Right? *** After getting lost, asking for directions, and getting lost again, I finally found the butcher''s shop - ten minutes late. The shop was on the edge of town, just a walk into the forest. Posted on its wall was a large board packed with bulletins of wanted posters and odd jobs. A group of people was studying it, perusing the options. Simone and Smith were waiting beside it. "Sorry!" I said. I was still panting from the run over. "Hey, she made it!" Simone said. "Is that your gear?" Smith asked. I looked myself over. I was still dressed in my casual street wear. Should I have bought robes? Would they even help? "I guess so," I said. "So trendy," a guy said. I looked over at him and saw the most obvious player avatar I''ve seen in this world. A stunning pink afro, aviator sunglasses, a mustache that dangled off his face, and a lashing eyebrow that struck at the end of every sentence. "What''s up," he said. "The name''s Relce." He wore a long brown duster and cowboy pants. "Uh, Alex," I said. I reached my hand up to shake his. He was easily the tallest guy here. For the longest time, I thought this game was for hardcore roleplayers, but this guy looked like he made his character for laughs. I was in awe. "And I guess... you''re a player?" "You betcha." "Am I the only..." I trailed off, and I noticed Smith smirking like some devil. "NPC?" Smith said. His grin didn''t waver. My face grew hot, and I looked away. He and Simone laughed at my reaction. "Trell is too. A nipsy, right? That''s what you guys say?" "Right," a gruff voice said. It came from this monstrously bulky guy reading the hunting board. He didn''t turn to look as he spoke. "Alex and I are the regulars." He stood a tad shorter than Relce but was almost three times as thick. He wore camouflage pants and a black tank top. Bald head and five o''clock shadow. Black boots and daggers at his waist. Was he a rogue? How in the hell could this guy ever sneak up on anything? "Neat," Smith said. He swung open his menu to check something before swiping it away. "We got a few hours before sunset, so I think we can knock this out quick. Where do we find these boars at?" "The forest," Trell said. We looked into the trees. The wind caught the leaves, and the birds chirped. There was a path that led deeper within. "Well let''s get this over with," Smith said. We walked along the path into the forest, looking out in every direction for any sign of animals. We saw birds, deer, rabbits, and every woodland creature imaginable, but no boars. Roughly thirty minutes of walking in silence before Smith finally spoke. "Where are the damn boars at?" "Dunno," Relce said.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it. "Wait, aren''t you a hunter?" "Yeah." Smith looked at him with narrow eyes. "Don''t you have a track ability or something?" Relce dipped his head in thought. The ends of his mustache swung this way and that. "Lemme check." He opened his menu, tapped a few icons, and looked at his abilities. "I have that," he chuckled. "I''m such a noob." The others laughed. "Alright, what do you see?" Smith asked. Relce closed his menu. "Track(woodland)," he commanded, then lifted his sunshades to scan around the forest. "Buncha red dots. Outlines, I guess? Yeah, dude, I see em!" He took off in a sprint, breaking through the underbrush. We followed after. He stopped right at the edge of a small clearing and crouched down. We did the same. Looking over Simone''s shoulder, I could see a group of boars idling in the grass and bushes, almost a dozen. They were snorting and digging their tusks around. "Okay," Relce said. "So we each kill one?" "No, let''s do it as a party," Smith said. Simone giggled. "Because he can only use healing magic." "So, what''s the plan?" I asked. "These things look kinda scary." "They''re just pigs," Smith said. "Yo, pigs are pretty spooky," Relce said. "It doesn''t matter," Smith hushed. "Just aggro one." Relce got up, nocked an arrow, and shot it downrange. Thump. He missed. He tried again. Thunk. It stuck right into the trunk of a fallen tree. The boars lifted their heads in unison and turned in our direction. We froze. Relce eased his hand as if moving slower would mask his sound and chambered another arrow. He pulled it back. "Don''t do it," Smith said through his teeth. "I think you''ll aggro all of them.¡± "Dude, they''re like level 1 beasts." Relce let slip the arrow. Slap. It dug right into the eye of one of the boars, killing it. "See?" With that, the boars squealed in chorus. A heavy, mad squeal of anger and fury. They saw us as a threat, and they came charging. "Shit!" Smith said. "Let''s do it!" Simone ripped the blade from her scabbard and readied her shield. She jumped out in front to stop the assault. "Provoke!" she shouted. Instead of charging in our general direction, the boars seemed to converge on her. Relce threw a few more arrows, missing most, before the boars made contact with Simone. They slammed into her one by one. Each hit she tossed aside with her iron shield, but each knocked her back further. She swung her blade at them, but these pigs weren''t stupid. They dipped and dodged at every strike. Before long, they overwhelmed her and pushed her off balance. "Guys!" she shouted. "Guys! Help!" She covered her face with her shield while the boars dug their tusks into her armor. I could only stare as she started screaming in a panic. Relce shot arrow after arrow into the group, likely not even worried if he hit Simone on accident. Smith was laughing at the sight. Trell had vanished. I stepped out to try out my new spells. I raised up my hand, felt the surge of strength within me, and commanded. "Water!" As if turning on a faucet, water spewed forth from my hand. Fsssss. It drizzled on them. The boars were unaffected. "Uh..." Smith now doubled over in laughter. "Guys! What are you doing?" Simone cried out. I brought my hand up again. "Wind!" I felt a breeze blow past me and into the group. It rustled their fur. They continued thrashing and gnawing at Simone. Now even Relce started laughing. He didn''t stop shooting his bow. I felt my face hot from embarrassment. It was time to use the tried and true. Unsure of the range of my spells, I sprinted closer. When I was almost within spitting distance, I pulled my hand back as if to throw a stone. One of the boars broke from the group and charged me. They were bigger up close. Feeling the ground beneath me vibrate under the weight of this beast, I froze. I could only stare with wide eyes and a heart full of fear as the boar leapt at me and in midair get tackled by a blur. Trell had it on the ground and was shanking it like a veteran prisoner. There was no time to sit and watch in morbid curiosity. The boars were setting their eyes on me and starting to charge. I threw my hand. "Fire!" The light was blinding and the heat overwhelming. I could feel my hands blister. It seemed the entire forest was bathed in a red glow and the world itself roared in flame. I held on to the feeling as long as I could - a few seconds in total - before I switched off. When I dropped my hand, all I could see was the face of a boar launching itself into me, toppling us to the ground before it too was kicked away and shanked by Trell. "Holy shit!" Smith yelled. "You set the woods on fire!" I eased up and looked. The boars were running around in a panic as the flames swallowed them, licked their fur, and took their breaths away. The blaze robbed the grass of its moisture, and the fires were spreading. The tree trunk was ash. The smoke was choking me. "Simone?" I hoped I didn''t boil the poor girl. "Simone!" "I''m alive!" she mumbled. "Heal!" Smith said. He hurried over to her with his staff out. When he was finished with her wounds, he tended to mine. He found a gash in my left forearm from the razor-sharp tusk of the boar. With the adrenaline still coursing through me, I felt nothing but a dull, numb pain. "Heal," he commanded. I watched as the blood stopped, turned to crust, then evaporated into a sandy mist. I was whole again. "Thanks," I said. He tapped me on the head with his staff. "You''re not supposed to get hit." "Sorry," I said. Why does my face still feel hot? When we tallied our score, Relce killed three, Trell killed two, and I killed the rest. Eleven in total. The problem we soon found, was that we had to carry the bodies back to the butcher. The players couldn''t cheat by stowing them through the menu, so we had to drag them along by hand. I could only carry one. After an hour of travel, we made it back to the butchers to drop off our loot and to collect our payment. We settled on one boar for each of us, and the rest to go towards the guild. The players also got paper slips - experience points - that were used like scrolls to add to their progression. "What will the guild need the money for?¡± I asked. "Well, this is a sandbox MMO, right?" Smith answered. "Toward the end of the last season, players realized they could make bases and villages. We can really carve out a place for ourselves here and really have an impact on the world. That''s what I plan to do." "That actually sounds pretty fun. Did you play last season?" "I got into this game right at the end, but that was only a week ago. Now everyone is starting over from scratch." Something didn''t sound right by that. I noticed Trell had a strange look on his face. Was it confusion, or deep thought? "Wait," I said. "Last week?" "Yeah," Simone cut in. "I was there for the whole season. I actually dragged him into it," she chuckled. "The game is still new to most people, so this season will be especially fun. The turnout is huge!" "Someone told me that the last time players were here was twenty years ago," I said. Simone gave it some thought. "I suppose things are a bit different. There were a few days of maintenance, and I assumed the game was generating a new world." "Nah," Smith said. "I remember the town names. We started in Nisa last time, but I saw it on a map earlier. We''re going there next." I dropped my head in thought. A twenty-year period without players that boiled down to a weekend in their time. This was a game, so the simulation must''ve been sped up during that time. But why? "Was it programmed to do that? To wait a couple of decades?" Smith and Simone looked at me with raised eyebrows and faint smiles. "Programmed? What do you know about programming?" "Because I''m..." I trailed off. This was going to be awkward, and I knew to avoid the talk. It wouldn''t matter since tonight I would be kicked out of the game when I fall asleep anyway. Hopefully. "I''ve heard about it." "I suppose so," Smith said. "It would make sense, after all. Some of the guilds were getting huge, the bases getting impenetrable. It''s nice to start over and every time feels fresh." "Last season," Simone said with excitement in her voice, "there was a huge event and a world raid boss. Some king took over half the world and challenged all the players." She brought her hands to her cheeks as if to relish the memory. "It was so cool! I was the main tank for that fight for all of three seconds." Smith laughed. "You got one-shot. That doesn''t count as tanking." The group laughed together, except for Trell and me. I was still parsing the facts about the world and Trell probably never laughs. I looked back out into the forest. The sun was setting, and the wildlife was settling in for the night. The city itself was getting ready - workers lighting streetlamps and shops closing. "Well I need to log, my dudes," Relce said. "I gotta work in the morn''." "Alright," Smith said. "Tomorrow then?" "Sure," I said. "Sounds great!" Simone smiled at me. I never knew why she would, but it felt nice. "We''ll see you tomorrow then!" She draped herself over Smith''s back. Smith winked at me, then they both vanished. Relce laughed. "Dude, I think they''re coming on to you," he said. "No way!" I snapped. "I think you like it," he teased. "No!" I crossed my arms at the thought and looked away. "You''re blushing." I felt my face with my hands. I was flushed. "Ugh!" He burst into laughter, even prompting Trell to stifle a chuckle. I kicked them both in the shins. "Alright, alright," Relce said. "Fine. I think you crit me just then." "Sorry," I said. "Nah, I''m joking. I''m out fellas. Night!" He vanished. Now it was just me and Trell, the only two left with nowhere to go but here. He already started to walk away. "Hey, what are you doing after this?" I asked. "Oh?" He stopped but didn''t turn to look at me. "Are you asking me out?" "No. I wanted to ask about some things. About the world." "Go find a scholar," he said. "Right now I have more questions than answers." He walked away. [FINAL RELEASE] We had a good run, buckeroos! Now that it''s time to bring it to Amazon, I needed to limit how much was here on RRL because of legal reasons. You can snag a copy -here- If you were in the middle of finishing the story, send me a message and I''ll let you know when the story runs free [or I can hook you up somehow].
What is human?Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site. Alex finds herself on the shores of a world unfamiliar, a world of fantasy and magic, a world that is a game. They tell her she is an NPC, a part of the code of the game, a part of the fantasy to entertain the players. She rejects the idea, for her memories can''t just be lies. Could they? Alex sets out to establish herself in the sandbox fantasy world, to find her identity, and to weather the storm between the players and the inhabitants of the new world. Polyglot: NPC REVOLUTION is finally out after its run on Royalroad. What''s in this story: Dive in and explore the rational conclusion to hyper-realistic NPCs in a video game setting.