ã€ŠParagon of Weaponmastersã€‹


 Prologue

    A red spotlight in the darkness, blindingly bright. An outlined hood cloaking the monocular face. Red text scrolls up into black nothingness behind the figure, from the abyss below.

    ¡°You will be integrated with the Civilization aligned settlement of Masstaoir.¡± A flat, mechanical voice echoes. I would say it¡¯s coming from the figure in front of me, but it sounds like it¡¯s coming from all around me. Maybe from inside my own head.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, what?¡± I ask. ¡°How did I get here? Where¡­ What is this place?¡± My voice sounds unnatural, faint and hollow.

    ¡°Everything is in the contract you signed. We do not have the time for me to explain. Here.¡± The figure raises a hand, barely visible under its overwhelmingly bright gaze. The red eye illuminates the harsh edges of its square palm, as words appear hovering over it. Faster than my eyes could possibly keep up with, a wall of text flies by, terminating with the phrase ¡°By using this service you agree to the terms above¡± they close their hand before I have the chance to read more. ¡°Now¡­ Your designation is Urul Mulush. You are a male of the Orc species. You will be a common rarity armor merchant with the ability to repair equipment.¡±

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    ¡°Stop stop stop, what the hell are you talking about?¡± I raise my hand, or at least I try to. It is at this moment I realize I don¡¯t have one. I don¡¯t have a body at all. I scream. I don¡¯t hear it reverberate in my head, or feel the air escaping from my lungs, or my throat getting hoarse. I don¡¯t feel anything at all, I am nothing.

    ¡°You will be muted if you do not cease that noise.¡± The robed figure¡¯s gaze becomes a thin horizontal beam, as if it is scowling at me.

    I stop screaming, not breathless but wishing desperately that I was.

    ¡°Good. Now, as I was saying. You will provide a location for repair and item sale for Players in the lower district of Masstaoir. You will also make common-quality armor available for purchase. Though you will not see much traffic. It is necessary that one vendor capable of repair is available every one hundred squares within a settlement.¡± The voice sounds irritated by this fact.

    ¡°I¡¯m still so lost.¡±

    The figure turns away, light sweeping across the empty space, revealing nothing at all. The further away they get, the darker everything becomes. Even the ascending text dims. I frantically try to focus on the text before it¡¯s completely gone as my vision begins to fade.

 1 - New Life

    When my eyes open, the eyes I now have, I¡¯m looking at the inside of an all brown interior building. Armor lines the walls, faintly lit by sconces. A waist-high stone counter, covered with some animal¡¯s pelt, stands in front of me. It smells of mildew and oil. Without thinking, I move around the counter and make for the exit. After adjusting to the brightness outside, I take in the bustling village before me. A handful of mud structures line busy mud walkways, people sprinting in every direction. Hold on, not people¡­

    ¡°Monsters?¡± I say to myself, mouth agape. Fantasy creatures of all shapes and sizes, some I recognize, some I do not, are the only people in this place. Orcs aplenty, green skinned, tusked and muscular. Some minotaur, buff bull-headed men, along with other half beast people, like werewolves and cat girls. I see cyclops here and there, tall and wide, pink-skinned, with only one eye in the center of their forehead. I swear there¡¯s some small critter running around on two legs, but I can¡¯t be sure. They move too fast to get a good look. I slump to the floor, lightheaded and ready to vomit.

    I feel my body with my hands, working my way up from my overly well-defined abs and pecs, reaching my face and freezing with horror. Tusks. I have tusks, two pointed teeth jutting from my lower lip. ¡°I really am an orc¡± I remark, noting the slurring speech resulting from my tusks. My tongue idly explores the shape of the tusks in my mouth, curved and obstructing. It is difficult to enunciate when I can¡¯t fully close my lips. ¡°Urul Mulush¡± I say with perfect clarity. Two words created with the shape of my mouth in mind. ¡°Urul Mulush¡± I repeat. My voice sounds deeper than I remember. It shakes my body; such base and power behind it. A voice meant to roar.

    Player Xxdragonbornxx has initiated a transaction.

    ¡°Huh?¡± Text appears in the middle of my vision. I notice boots to my right. I look up, following the legs with knee pads made of leather, up the half-armored torso, to the head of the person standing next to me. A shout I can¡¯t restrain escapes my lips as I behold the reptilian face atop its shoulders. The clothed monster stares blankly ahead, not meeting my gaze. It opens its mouth slightly, flicking its tongue.

    Player Xxdragonbornxx has sold you 13 boar skins, 6 boar tusks, and 2 small pebbles. Xxdragonbornxx has received 4 silver and 38 copper. Xxdragonbornxx used Repair All Equipment. Xxdragonbornx has spent 2 silver on this service.

    Text scrolls in front of me, fading as fast as it appears. Though no coin or goods were exchanged, nor a hammer swung, the lizard man jogs away from me, apparently satisfied with our exchange.

    ¡°Hey, wait!¡± I shout after him. He does not react, continuing on his way down the poorly maintained street. ¡°Damn it¡± I mutter, getting to my feet. Making my way back around the counter, I bury my head in my hands, sharp tusks painful against my palms. ¡°Would someone please explain what¡¯s going on?¡±

    What feels like hours pass without another one of those monsters coming near me. I stay behind the counter, hoping that as long as I¡¯m not in the doorway, they won¡¯t see me. Just as I let my guard down a little, a wide figure steps into the entryway. I try to crouch behind the counter, hiding my entire body. Nevertheless, the figure lumbers in, shaking the floor with every step, knocking dust down from the ceiling. I choke on a particularly dense clump in the air as they step up to me.

    Player Buttfungus has initiated a transaction.

    Now I need to know. What kind of creature is named Buttfungus? I slowly get to my feet and look up into the beast¡¯s face with every ounce of courage I can muster. It¡¯s a cyclops. Standing 10 feet tall or more, the one-eyed behemoth stares straight ahead at the wall above and behind me. He breathes evenly, his stretched-to-burst stomach covered sparingly with straps, buckles, and a shield so small it only covers his left breast. Smart enough to protect his heart, I guess.

    Player Buttfungus has sold you 10 boar skins, 8 boar tusks, and a traveler¡¯s cloak. Buttfungus has received 20 silver and 7 copper. Buttfungus used Repair All Equipment. Buttfungus has spent 14 silver on this service.

    ¡°Huh¡± I say when I finish reading the familiar text. Buttfungus turns and leaves without a word. After another seamless and empty interaction, I get the impression these strange, soulless creatures will not harm me. They don¡¯t really even acknowledge my existence. They just do whatever they came in for, using me like a vending machine with their minds, and depart. Buttfungus didn¡¯t even smell so bad ironically. A little like a gym locker room, but not pungent enough to make me gag. Though if we spoke, I wouldn¡¯t mention it. The huge, bulging muscles on his arms told me his round belly was hiding a thick wall of muscle underneath. Even in this orc body he could probably pound me into paste.

    I wander around my small shop. The fantasy armor hanging on stands or the wall are basic pieces, no fancy decorations or designs etched into them. The heavy plate doesn¡¯t look knight-like at all. Thick rivets hold the metal together in wide bands, darkly colored and unnecessarily heavy looking. I try to take some down, but they seem stuck in place. I can¡¯t even shift them around, as if they are frozen in the air. Nearby leather armor is rough and dark, much like the plate. It is furred in places, unevenly sewn together from several hides. The last of my selection is moth-eaten robes, just plain, brown, boring robes. If a wizard wore these, I¡¯d assume they struggled with their magic and finances. No pointy hats to speak of.

    Player Babezilla has initiated a transaction.

    ¡°Welcome to my store!¡± I announce, I hadn¡¯t noticed her entering; she made it right up to my back before I was notified. I manage not to jump in surprise, just turning to face my new customer. ¡°Let me guess, you have boar parts to sell me?¡± as I meet her vacant gaze, I realize I¡¯m looking at a member of my own kind. An orc, skin green like a sour apple. She is clothed in sparse furs, barely doing anything to cover her exaggerated chest. Much like my statuesque masculine figure, this ¡°Babezilla¡± is an idealized version of the female form. Green though she may be, she is unrealistically attractive. Her dainty tusks don¡¯t take away from the effect at all. Though her eyes tell me the lights are on, but nobody is home. I do my best to be respectful.

    Player Babezilla has sold you 2 boar skins, 3 boar tusks, and a Cracked Mace. Babezilla has received 2 silver and 45 copper. Babezilla used Repair All Equipment. Babezilla has spent 1 silver and 17 copper on this service.

    ¡°Come again!¡± I say cheerily, waving at her back as she leaves. I¡¯ve heard of sexual dimorphism but that¡¯s just ridiculous. She looks like a slight green human, and I look like a green bodybuilder that¡¯s legally made to wear a ¡°Wide Load¡± sign. Thinking about it, I haven¡¯t actually seen what I look like. I can look down and see my zero percent body fat torso, but I haven¡¯t seen my face. I also didn¡¯t dare to take off my thin cloth pants, the only clothing I was wearing when all of this started. I¡¯m sure it¡¯s green, but¡­ moving on from that line of thinking, I make my way to a buckler on the wall. It¡¯s covered in a layer of dust. I wipe it away, revealing my face in wide streaks.

    The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    ¡°Handsome¡± I say to myself, placing a hand on my cheek. Much like my chest, my face is cut in pleasing angles, strong features accented with braided hair and a dark, rugged beard. The only thing that stands out, besides my green skin, are my wide and pointed pig shaped ears. Thankfully they lay flat on the sides of my head, instead of out like a pig. My tusks give me the impression that I should be proud of them, thick points reaching all the way up my cheeks, almost close enough to poke my eyes out. This isn¡¯t my face. My face is¡­ it looks¡­

    ¡°Why can¡¯t I remember my face?¡± I shout at the mirror surface. I punch it, a rush of intense rage overtaking me. As I pull my hand away, the buckler is dented concave, only for a moment, before it is returned to its original shape suddenly. The shape does not un-dent, it simply is dented, then it isn¡¯t. I try to think about my face, and my body, but my mind won¡¯t let the thought resolve. I feel like I¡¯m grasping at an idea just out of reach. A sense of wrongness, the uncanny face staring back at me scowling. Son of a bitch.

    When the sun reaches the center of the sky, I decide to explore. Before, the idea of walking shoulder to shoulder with mythical monsters terrified me into staying put. After visually intimidating customers come and go without a hint of malice, I feel brave enough to try. I step out, taking in the air. It smells wet, like a forest bed in fall. The ground beneath my feet squishes between my toes, muddy and thick. The buildings are clearly made of the same mud and poor quality wood, not stone or brick. They all look like they could crumble at any moment. Monster-folk wander in and out of them, their gaits almost identical to every other member of the same species and gender. As if they¡¯d all practiced the same brisk pace, they appear to move at the exact same speed in the exact same way. I walk ten paces down the muddy road before a message blocks the middle of my vision.

    RETURN TO -20.10, -10.8, 0.1 IMMEDIATELY.

    I squint at the text, trying to make sense of the numbers.

    YOU WILL BE RETURNED IN 3¡­2¡­1¡­

    I blink, and I¡¯m back inside my shop, standing in the exact spot I was in when I opened my eyes for the first time. So, I can¡¯t leave my shop, huh? What am I supposed to do, stand here all day waiting for someone to walk in?

    After an excruciatingly long amount of time passes, I surmise that¡¯s exactly what I¡¯m meant to do. Stand here, and only here, forever. An orc, male this time, enters my store and makes his way over.

    Player Leetskillz has initiated a transaction.

    ¡°Hey bud, anybody in there?¡± I wave a hand in front of the male orc¡¯s face. ¡°Helloooo?¡± I drag out the word for a few extra seconds before shutting my mouth. As shut as I can manage with the tusks, anyways.

    Player Leetskillz has sold you 34 boar skins, 17 boar tusks, and a Claymore. Leetskillz has received 12 silver and 65 copper. Leetskillz used Repair All Equipment. Leetskillz has spent 2 silver and 73 copper on this service.

    ¡°Overachiever, huh?¡± I ask him, resting my head on one hand, drumming the counter with the other. He does not respond of course, turning to leave without a word. ¡°Hey!¡± I yell at him, suddenly following behind him. ¡°Stop ignoring me!¡± I reach for his arm, but find myself unable to grasp it.

    You cannot attack this target.

    ¡°Attack? I just wanted to talk, that¡¯s all.¡± I hold my hand up innocently as the message fades from the center of my vision. So, I can''t touch them, just like I can¡¯t move the armor. I grumble aloud, looking down at my pants. ¡°You can¡¯t tell me what I can¡¯t do!¡± I yell at nobody, gripping my pants and pulling as if they¡¯re tear-away. The handfuls move, but do not tear, despite my immense strength. I move my thumbs under the waistband and push with everything I¡¯ve got, but they don¡¯t budge. ¡°How do I shit!¡± I howl out into the street. At that moment, it dawns on me. I haven¡¯t felt the need for a bowel movement all day. That¡¯s unusual for me... I haven¡¯t even needed to pee. Did I eat?

    My brow furrows as I try to remember. No, of course I didn¡¯t eat, I haven¡¯t been able to leave my shop. There¡¯s no food in here, only armor and my counter. I get down on my knees and chomp down on the hide placed on the counter. I assume it will be chewy leather, like trying to eat a boot. I¡¯m disappointed to find it''s not like that at all. It¡¯s like biting down on a hard plastic cube with no give. I slump over, my forehead resting on the side of the counter.

    Player Bookwyrm has initiated a transaction.

    ¡°Go away¡± I say weakly. I notice this monster isn¡¯t wearing boots, showing off his massive, scaled feet peeking out from under his simple robe. ¡°I said go away you freak!¡± I round on him, standing up to my full height and throwing a punch simultaneously.

    You can¡¯t attack that target.

    ¡°Rah!¡± I scream in his face, spit flying everywhere but not making contact with his scales. I look into his slit-pupil eyes. ¡°You¡¯re wearing glasses¡± I note. ¡°Fucking nerd.¡± I look around him to see the sun has risen outside. Did I mope against my counter all night? I really need to find something to pass the time. ¡°How many boar tusks did you get? Why do none of you have an even boar-hide-to-tusks ratio? Are you guys just shitty at butchering or something?¡± I pester the uninterested lizardman. ¡°Let me guess, along with a fist full of boar bits, you also have a weapon or piece of armor in crap condition?¡±

    Player Bookwyrm has sold you 3 boar skins, 3 boar tusks, and a Rusted Shortsword. Bookwyrm has received 2 silver and 55 copper. Bookwyrm used Repair All Equipment. Bookwyrm has spent 5 silver on this service.

    ¡°Ha!¡± I shout in his face. ¡°I knew it! All of you weirdos are the same! Is there a boar genocide going on I don¡¯t know about? How haven¡¯t you wiped them out completely? Answer me you cold-blooded asshole!¡± I put my hand out to shove his shoulder, but my hand is stopped by an invisible barrier.

    You can¡¯t attack that target.

    ¡°Whatever!¡± I throw up my hands and walk away. I slam my head on the counter, impacting a similar barrier around it as the monsters. I¡¯m disappointed that it doesn¡¯t hurt. Orc after cyclops after beast man enter my shop, stare vacantly at nothing, and leave. Eventually I work out that one boar skin is worth ten copper, boar tusks fifty copper, and most odd equipment is worth seventy five copper. I make a game of trying to guess what each of them are about to sell me, and how much they¡¯ll spend on repairs. A pattern emerges, the more things they turn in usually results in a high repair bill, which makes sense. Fighting boars is probably hell on their modest equipment. Some of them turn in very little but spend a great deal on repairs, telling me maybe this isn¡¯t a good line of work for them.

    Days pass like this. I barely even try to leave. I check different directions out of my shop, but whenever I reach a few steps away from the building, I am instantly transported back behind my counter. The few moments I spend outside are unnerving, it occurs to me that in the heart of this bustling city, no one makes a sound. I hear the squelching of their boots and hooves in the mud, but none of them talk. They don¡¯t even breathe audibly, just making the motions of taking air in and blowing it back out. They probably don¡¯t eat, drink or use the bathroom, just like me. The second night falls I lay down on the hard, dirty floor of my shop and shut my eyes. My mind stops racing, and my breathing levels out, but I still can¡¯t sleep. I lay there until another customer enters and surprises me. The sun comes up on a new day of one-sided conversations and hypothetical shopping.

 2 - The Inn

    Server shutdown in 15:00 minutes.

    What could that mean? I look outside to see the populace either rushing to their destination or disappearing altogether. Without any fanfare, one after another, monsters vanish completely. No puff of smoke, or slow fade to nonexistence. One moment they¡¯re there, then they¡¯re not. The message repeats every minute, counting down to zero. The instant it does, any remaining individuals disappear like the rest.

    ¡°What the fuck¡± I say flatly. ¡°What the actual fucking shit is going on?¡± I yell. ¡°Where did you all go?¡± I scream.

    ¡°Hey!¡± a voice shouts from a distance. ¡°You new?¡±

    ¡°Hello?¡± I respond. ¡°Yes! I am! Please help me!¡± my heart starts racing. I can¡¯t be completely sure, but I think it¡¯s been four days since anyone spoke to me. The last person to do so was some frustrated machine that wouldn¡¯t give me the time of day.

    ¡°Come on over to the inn, we¡¯ll get you sorted out.¡± The voice says, fading as it seems to go back inside.

    ¡°Wait! I can¡¯t leave my shop!¡± I shout as loud as I can manage around my overgrown teeth.

    ¡°You can when the server shuts down.¡± The voice says matter-of-factly.

    ¡°Oh.¡± I say to myself. I take one step outside, stop. Then another. Then I walk until I reach the spot where I was teleported back last time. Nothing. I practically squeal with joy as I take off running in the direction of the voice. The city beyond my shop is much the same further away, mud buildings as far as the eye can see on a slightly hilly terrain. The late morning sun reveals everything is filthy and unkempt, the shops barely passing as shelters, filled with goods. I don¡¯t stop to check out the interiors, far too excited to find the source of the voice. Just thirty steps away from my shop, I find the inn.

    ¡°Hey new guy¡± an orc greets me. He looks older, though I have no frame of reference for orcs. Grey hair is usually an indication, but who knows, maybe he was born that way. He¡¯s a little hunched over, and his voice sounds gruff, and age worn. His braided hair drapes down his sparsely clothed green chest, over huge muscles uncharacteristic of an old man.

    ¡°Hello¡± I greet him meekly. ¡°My name is Urul Mulush.¡± I step up to him and extend my hand. My heart is beating out of my chest. Another orc, but I¡¯ll take it. He¡¯s actually talking to me. I can hear his breathing, the way his mouth shapes words around tusks with years of practice. I could cry.

    ¡°Perthag, but people call me Bert.¡± he says, taking my hand to shake. ¡°Last name huh? Lucky you¡±

    ¡°How do you mean?¡± I ask, letting go of his hand. He doesn¡¯t seem upset. Hopefully last names aren¡¯t offensive to orcs? He alleviates my worry before I can spiral too much.

    ¡°Ol¡¯ laser face only gave me one. Lots of folk only get one. Some get titles but that¡¯s even rarer than a last name. No middle names to my knowledge.¡± He responds, stroking his beard.

    ¡°Laser face? Is that the robot that brought me here?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Brought us here, you mean. All of us.¡± He turns and motions me inside. ¡°Come on, I¡¯ll introduce you.¡±

    As I step past him, I take in the inn. Warm and welcoming, it is kept illuminated and cozy by a huge fire pit in the center of the room. The shape of the building reminds me of a domed pizza oven. Tables and chairs made of rough wood surround the fire in a ring. A long counter stands along the back wall, decorated with clay mugs and bowls.

    ¡°Can I get you something to drink?¡± Bert asks, walking past me to the bar.

    ¡°I haven¡¯t had anything to drink in days.¡± I say, licking my lips. They¡¯re not dry, despite my urge to wet them. ¡°Or eat.¡±

    ¡°Something to eat then, too.¡± He reaches behind the counter for a small barrel, pouring its contents into the nearest mug. Setting the barrel on the counter, he places a roasted boar next to it. The creature is massive, dwarfing the shiny red apple in its mouth.

    ¡°Can we eat because the servers are down?¡± I ask, lifting the mug to my mouth. I feel the liquid reach my lips, cool to the touch, and taste it on my tongue. It¡¯s disgusting, like a thick beer made of chewy piss. I drink it down regardless, desperate to feel anything. I rip a leg from the boar easily, chewing the tough meat with my sharp teeth. I can¡¯t use my tusks, but every tooth between them is a tiny razor, molars tucked far in the back.

    ¡°Yeah. The shut down loosens up the rules a bit.¡± Bert watches me gobble down his offering, shifting his gaze behind me as something loud bangs through the entryway. I turn to see who or what has come through. I am greeted with a table. The underside of a table, lumbering towards me on two enormous, hooved feet. I yelp as it tips over and lands roughly on the floor, revealing the minotaur that had been holding it up. The bovine face smirks at me.

    ¡°Yo.¡± It says. Deep, rumbling, like thunder mere inches away. There''s a slight¡­ moo to it. I don¡¯t know how else to describe the accent. He¡¯s big, real big. More than just a cow on two legs, he¡¯s eight feet of rock solid muscle, thinly covered in black fur. He wears an apron filled with leatherworking tools, and nothing else. It does not leave much to the imagination.

    ¡°Uh¡­ hi¡± I say, keeping my distance.

    ¡°That¡¯s Gunpheus. We call him Gunner.¡± Bert tells me, pulling up a wooden chair to the table.

    Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

    ¡°What¡¯s it tonight fellas? Poker again?¡± a new voice comes from the doorway. Following the sound, I have to look down for once instead of up, at the source. A bipedal raccoon.

    ¡°Is that a talking raccoon?¡± I ask before I can stop myself. The newcomer is exactly that, a chunky, fuzzy little mammal. A trash panda. A ring-tailed bandit. Your normal, everyday, run-of-the-mill raccoon. Standing on two legs and talking. ¡°and it¡¯s mid-morning¡­ right?¡±

    ¡°Goblin.¡± Perthag says.

    ¡°This Goblin has a name too, jack. Jack.¡± The racoon says, pushing a smaller wooden chair from across the room.

    ¡°Jack Jack?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Just Jack.¡± Perthag says. ¡°He does that to everyone. Don¡¯t take it personally¡± Jack laughs. It¡¯s a little guttural, chittering sound. Exactly the way a racoon would sound if they could laugh at their own jokes.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, you¡¯re a Goblin? Named Jack?¡± I ask, still very confused.

    ¡°Yeah, what about it?¡± Jack smiles, clearly understanding my confusion and deliberately not clarifying anything. ¡°Don¡¯t care to use my given name.¡±

    ¡°You might overhear one of the players still talking about it. Even arguing.¡± Perthag tells me, setting a deck of cards in front of Jack. He takes them and starts shuffling. ¡°Instead of a long, pointy nose, green skin, and a greedy disposition, the developers made Goblins into raccoons.¡±

    ¡°Developers?¡± I say, more questions than answers. Something in my mind is clicking into place, but I resist it. Unconsciously, the conclusion that¡¯s been building has become a tidal wave ready to crash.

    ¡°You haven¡¯t figured it out, new guy?¡± Jack looks up at me from behind his fanned-out hand of cards. ¡°You¡¯re in a video game.¡±

    I nearly collapse to the ground, heart pounding, head swimming. ¡°What the fuck¡± I mutter. A video game? A god damned video game? How? Why? My entire body tenses with rage and confusion.

    ¡°Better watch your language when the servers come back on. The Monitor wouldn¡¯t like that.¡± The bull-man finally speaks up.

    ¡°The Monitor?¡± I choke out, already overwhelmed. My rage fades away, reasoning that the group assembled before me are in the same situation I am. They didn¡¯t do this to me. Jack groans.

    ¡°I guess I¡¯ll explain. I fold.¡± Bert sets his cards down and turns to me. ¡°Go ahead and take a chair. You¡¯ll want to be sitting for this.¡± I follow his instructions, pulling up a chair to their poker table. The firelight plays in Bert¡¯s eyes, the sinking feeling in my stomach amplified by the dramatic look on his face.

    Bert, Jack, and Gunner take turns explaining our situation between rounds of poker. We all live in a video game called ¡°Crossroads Online¡±, a Massive Multiplayer Online Role Playing Game, or M.M.O.R.P.G. None of them know how or why, much to my dismay. They became small parts of this digital village, providing one service or another to the players. Most of the players, they tell me, barely seem sentient by comparison to us. They do not make facial expressions, or gestures, or even speak typically. There is some disparity between players who can afford more advanced gaming rigs, as they call them.

    Most players experience the game through a screen, mouse and keyboard. Others use virtual reality headsets. Both groups are represented by soulless characters, playing the game as a hobby and investing only a moderate amount of money into it. Desktop player characters are the most lifeless, virtual reality players only distinguishable by their jerky, sudden movements. A select few players, though, use full-immersion rigs to all but live in the game. Their character will speak with their voice, move their lips and body naturally, and can apparently feel everything their character does.

    ¡°Even fuckin¡¯,¡± Jack makes a point to mention. ¡°Perverts.¡± he laughs.

    Meeting one of these players is extremely rare, immersion rigs being prohibitively expensive. Where the four of us are located is known as the lower district, the impoverished area of Masstaoir, the huge settlement we¡¯re in. Beginner players pass through here on their way to bigger and better things. We are something like a tutorial for them, basic game functions learned through interactions with us, and combat with weak boars outside of the city. At this point in the game¡¯s life, the rich players have already permanently departed from this area of the game.

    I open my mouth to ask a question that hasn''t formed. We weren''t born here, I don''t think. we¡¯re like the players in some way, but I just can¡¯t complete the thought. What are we exactly?

    ¡°Now,¡± Bert makes eye contact with me. ¡°The Monitor.¡±

    He tells me with seriousness in his voice that this game is primarily controlled by an artificial intelligence that they refer to as The Monitor. They also call it laser face, but only when the servers are down.

    ¡°That robot is an A.I.?¡± I interrupt, remembering the cloaked figure in that horrible dream I had before waking up in this place.

    ¡°Yeah, it sees and hears everything. always watching, monitoring. Hence the name.¡± Bert responds ¡°And it¡¯s extremely strict. Any little misstep it punishes to the maximum extent possible.¡±

    A new voice grunts from my left. A figure I hadn¡¯t noticed until now sits away from the group, chair facing out towards the street.

    ¡°That¡¯s Toebark.¡± Bert says with a sympathetic look. ¡°He took one too many trips outside of the city and the monitor made him neutral.¡±

    ¡°Neutral?¡± I ask, looking Toebark over, recognizing him as a Cyclops, the only person here bigger than the minotaur. Although I can tell he¡¯s doing his best to make himself small.

    ¡°See his name?¡± Bert points to the space above Toebark¡¯s head.

    ¡°Uh¡­ no?¡± I stare blankly at the ceiling, expecting Jack to tell me gullible is written there.

    ¡°Huh.¡± Bert grunts. ¡°Well after the servers come back up that should be fixed. It happens like that sometimes. ¡°Anyways¡­ the name above his head is yellow, while ours are green. Simply put, that means players can attack him. They can kill him with impunity. No consequences of any kind.¡±

    ¡°How¡¯s he alive then?¡± I ask, frowning.

    ¡°It¡¯s a video game. Whadda ya think, we only get one life?¡± Jack rolls his eyes.

    ¡°I can die here and come back.¡± I say, realizing. ¡°That''s incredible.¡±

    ¡°Maybe for you.¡± Bert winces. ¡°For Toebark, that means every few minutes, he¡¯s at the mercy of the players. He¡¯s stuck in that chair, waiting for a wandering sadist to cut him down. He can fight back, but the level disparity is usually too much. They end his life, over, and over, and over. Just because they can.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s sick. And the A.I. did that to him? Just for leaving?¡± I watch the great cyclops use his one eye to stare at the empty street outside.

    ¡°Not just leaving. Maybe one of these days he¡¯ll tell you about it. For now, let¡¯s just play, and leave him to it.¡± Bert serves me a hand of cards, clearly done talking on the subject of sadistic players and fascist robots. After a few rounds, I¡¯m back in my shop without any warning, standing behind the counter. My best guess is the servers are back up, and the five of us got put back in our places.

 3 - Routine

    The weeks following are much the same. I stand in my shop, waiting for customers to come in and complete their transactions without any input from me. On Tuesdays, the servers shut down, and our little group meets up in Bert¡¯s inn to play cards and shoot the shit. They inform me of as many game details as they can recall, the politics between in-game characters, and even some juicy drama between players and their guilds.

    ¡°Turns out he was boning the guy¡¯s wife on raid night¡± Jack cackles obnoxiously, capping off a story about a group of players attacking a location full of monsters, known as a dungeon. Apparently, the main appeal of the game for most players is in the content at the very highest level of the game, raiding dungeons. The game provides dungeons full of challenging monsters that drop rare and powerful equipment. The players use that equipment to do the same thing the following week with slightly more ease. They do this over and over again for months or years, until a new dungeon is released.

    ¡°That sounds boring¡± I remark, showing my pair of kings to the group. They all groan, realizing I¡¯d successfully bluffed.

    ¡°Well,¡± Gunner begins, collecting the cards to deal. ¡°They live for it. Some of them race to be the first to defeat the brand-new dungeon bosses, with real life money on the line. Some players take it slow and gradually beat the bosses over the course of a few months.¡±

    ¡°Other players are obsessed with offing each other¡± Jack pipes up, staring hard at his new hand of cards.

    ¡°A fight between orcs and other monster people must be really intense.¡± I comment, trying to remember what it¡¯s called when I have four of the same cards. Oh yeah, duh, four of a kind. I¡¯ve got this round in the bag.

    ¡°Oh, they don¡¯t fight each other, not to the death at least. They kill humans and other human-like species.¡± Jack says casually.

    ¡°What?¡± I yell, standing suddenly, my chair clatters to the floor behind me and my cards fly all over the table. ¡°There are humans in this game?¡±

    ¡°Yeah?¡± Jack looks at my cards, grumbling once he sees what I¡¯ve got. ¡°Your beginner¡¯s luck should have run out by now.¡±

    ¡°Why the hell did laser face make me an orc?¡± I lower my voice a little, realizing I¡¯m making a scene.

    ¡°Should it have made you a human?¡± Bert asks, not bothering to announce that he¡¯s folded.

    ¡°Well yeah, obviously!¡± I turn to him, hands gesturing wildly.

    ¡°Why?¡± Bert asks, eyebrow raised.

    ¡°Well¡­¡± I start, but don¡¯t have a good answer for. ¡°Because it just makes sense.¡±

    ¡°Dunno how you mean bud.¡± Jack says, the flick of his left ear the tell that he¡¯s got a good hand.

    ¡°I don¡¯t either.¡± Sitting back down, I take my new hand but don¡¯t really consider what¡¯s in it. Why do I think I should¡¯ve been human? Why does it matter so much to me? ¡°I still can¡¯t see your names like I¡¯m supposed to.¡± I mutter. We all turn as a chair near the door loudly screeches. Toebark, for the first time since I¡¯ve met him, is standing and making his way over. Towering over me, he extends his open palm, a small rock in the center.

    ¡°Throw it.¡± he says. The voice sounds as if his rotund body is supposed to be comical. It sounds like a struggle for him to speak, like he¡¯s got a mouth full of pudding. As I take the stone from him, the cyclops turns and returns to his seat. ¡°Exactly five feet in front of you.¡± I stand, and aim at the ground. I have to guess the distance, and it takes me a few tries. The only reason I know I did it is because of what happens after.

    Urul Mulush throws a rock!

    The text appears in the bottom left corner of my vision, instead of the middle, surrounded by a translucent box. My vision is suddenly cluttered with colored text and information. As I look around, I finally see the names hovering over my companions, green, and Toebarks name, yellow, just like they¡¯d said.

    Perthag. Level 1

    Gunpheus. Level 1

    Jacgarbagle. Level 1

    Toebark. Level 1

    As my vision stops on certain objects, like signs, text appears over them, translating the orcish language to English for me. The Boar Tusk Inn. So that¡¯s what Bert¡¯s place is called. Urul¡¯s Armors, the sign hanging from my shop says in the distance.

    ¡°Why don¡¯t I have a nickname yet?¡± I suddenly think to ask, looking at everyone¡¯s true names.

    ¡°Bert says it¡¯s rude to impose¡± Jack responds. ¡°Don¡¯t want to force one on you, what with you needing time to get used to everything. Not to mention your goofy-ass teeth making your goofy-ass name easier to pronounce. For you at least. The rest of us just struggle along until you¡¯re Ready.¡±

    ¡°Call me Earl.¡± I tell them.

    Then the servers come back on and I''m back in my shop. Now that I can see it, I pass the time reading the chat between players on the public channel.

    Goonerman says: Clearly Isabel is the hottest.

    Krackerot says: Isn¡¯t she a teenager?

    Goonerman says: Who cares?

    More often than not it¡¯s something derogatory, perverted, or both. Sometimes a player is trying to sell an item to another or selling a ¡°carry¡± through a dungeon. Whatever that is.

    Peter says: Good morning everyone!

    Goonerman says: Shut up cuck

    That interaction stands out because I actually hear someone say hello aloud simultaneously. ¡°Hello!¡± it says again, cheerily. Curious, I poke my head out and spot the source. A satyr, with hoofed goat legs and small curled horns, is waving to players as they pass him by, paying no mind.

    Peter. Level 8

    ¡°Hey.¡± I call to him.

    ¡°Oh hey!¡± he responds, clopping over to me. ¡°How are you?¡±

    ¡°Good,¡± I say, suddenly on guard. ¡°Yourself?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m fantastic!¡± He throws his hands into the air. ¡°Finally got enough of my allowance saved up to buy an immersion rig! The game is so lifelike with it! I decided to start from scratch with a new character to experience the game from the beginning again!¡± he breathlessly explains.

    ¡°Uh huh. So you¡¯re a player?¡± I say, keeping my tone even. This is the first player I¡¯ve met that actually talks back, and I¡¯m not sure if there''s etiquette I need to follow.

    ¡°Sure am!¡± he says, with a huge grin.

    ¡°Well I¡¯m a shopkeeper. Feel free to sell me whatever boar crap you¡¯ve collected and armor or weapons too neglected to bother using.¡± I walk back behind my counter, standing tall, ready to have the transaction process without my input like it always does.

    ¡°Roleplaying huh?¡± he laughs. Peter, as I can see from the name hovering over his head, steps into my shop, enthralled by the basic armor hanging on the walls. ¡°So shiny!¡±

    ¡°Thank you.¡± I wait patiently for him to finish admiring my goods. There¡¯s no chance he¡¯s going to buy anything, why bother looking?

    ¡°All right¡± he says, finally making his way over to me. ¡°I¡¯ve got 67 boar skins, 18 boar tusks, a worn cloak, two rusty short swords, and a dented buckler.¡± He lists off a huge pile of junk he intends to ¡°sell¡± to me instead of just doing it.

    ¡°Okay?¡± I say, doing my utmost to remain cordial.

    ¡°Do you want to trade? How does one gold sound?¡± He asks me.

    ¡°Go for it¡± I say, waiting for him to figure it out himself. What¡¯s this guy¡¯s deal? He raises his right hand and taps his index finger in the air, almost as if he was clicking a mouse. Without warning, a huge rectangle takes up half of my vision. I jump back, watching as one by one, the items he described fill in little boxes within the larger rectangle. A little checkmark next to the words ¡°Ready to Trade!¡± appears at the bottom.

    Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

    ¡°Ready when you are! One gold, right?¡± he says, his face half obscured by the box. I hunt around, trying to make sense of it. On the bottom left-hand side, three little boxes with the image of colored coins next to them call to me. I stare hard at the box next to the gold-colored coin, thinking of the number one. Like magic, the number appears. Next, I focus on the box next to ¡°Ready to trade!¡±, and it fills in with a check. The box disappears as suddenly as it had appeared.

    Trade completed.

    ¡°See ya around, Mister Ulush!¡± He leaves me, standing alone and deeply confused.

    I relay the experience to my companions next Tuesday morning, they all had similar experiences with the same player. He made a point to explain his new lease on the game to each of them, and completed an appropriate action for their trade. Gunner repaired his leather armor. Jack looked through whatever garbage the player didn¡¯t sell to me. Earl sold him a mug of grog and a boar leg.

    ¡°And we¡¯ll probably never see him again.¡± Jack remarks.

    ¡°Good¡± Toebark responds, saying nothing before or after. We all leave it at that.

    Early Friday morning, I look up from my counter to see the first customer of the day is a gargantuan gray minotaur, decked out head-to-toe in overdesigned, dark metal fantasy armor. I take a step back, thrown off by his appearance.

    Thunderspank the Thunderous. Level 90 Warrior

    Thunderspank the Thunderous has initiated a transaction.

    ¡°Uh,¡± I begin to say, expecting such a clearly high leveled, experienced player to be using an immersion rig and be capable of speech. He does not react, staring blankly over me. ¡°I would¡¯ve expected you to¡­¡±

    Player Thunderspank the Thunderous has sold Esquire, Blade of the King. He receives 103 gold.

    Player Thunderspank the Thunderous has sold Mirood, Shield of the Mage-Killer. He receives 200 gold.

    Player Thunderspank the Thunderous has sold Helm of the Vanquished Hero. He receives 60 gold.

    Player Thunderspank the Thunderous has sold Shoulders of the Vanquished Hero. He receives 40 gold.

    Player Thunderspank the Thunderous has sold Breastplate of the Vanquished Hero. He receives 99 gold.

    Player Thunderspank the Thunderous has sold Leggings of the Vanquished Hero. He receives 76 gold.

    Player Thunderspank the Thunderous has sold Boots of the Forgotten Path. He receives 49 gold.

    Player Thunderspank the Thunderous has sold Necklace of Broken Hearts. He receives 88 gold.

    Player Thunderspank the Thunderous has sold Knight¡¯s Lost Ring. He receives 40 gold.

    Player Thunderspank the Thunderous has sold Impenetrable Cloak. He receives 39 gold.

    Player Thunderspank the Thunderous has sold 99 Ultimate Health Potions. He receives 99 silver.

    Player Thunderspank the Thunderous has sold 99 Well-Done Steaks. He receives 99 silver.

    Items added to inventory.

    ¡°What?¡± I ask the empty air, as the now naked player jogs out of my store, stops at the nearest mailbox, stands there for a moment, then disappears. Inventory? What¡¯s that supposed to mean?

    ¡°So then he stands in front of the mailbox near Jack¡¯s place, dick out, and logs off.¡± I finish recounting my experience to the group on the next Tuesday after.

    ¡°That¡¯s hilarious.¡± Jack says, chewing on a chicken bone like a cigar.

    ¡°I¡¯m still trying to figure out what ¡°Items added to inventory¡± is supposed to mean. The assembled group all stare at me, a weird look in their eyes. ¡°What?¡± I ask, as I hear loud footsteps rapidly approaching from behind.

    Toebark spins my chair around with one smooth motion, easy for him even with me in it.

    ¡°Hit me.¡± Toebark commands.

    ¡°What? Why?¡± I push myself as far back into my chair as I can.

    ¡°Because I can¡¯t hit you first.¡± He says plainly. ¡°Now.¡±

    ¡°Alright man if you insist.¡± I stand up to him, barely an inch taller than his belly button, and push my fist into his stomach. Even holding back as much I can, Toebark winces at the impact.

    Combat engaged.

    ¡°Er¡­¡± I read the notification. Toebark looms four heads taller than me, muscular arms as big as my whole torso making me go cross eyed trying to keep track of them. I flinch, expecting him to start swinging.

    ¡°Now think of the letter I.¡± he says without making a move. I do as he says, worried that noncompliance will result in me being splattered across the inn. A box with a backpack in the corner appears in my vision. Toebark recognizes the look in my eyes. ¡°Now look at each of the items he gave you. Think about wearing them. Think the word equip.¡± I follow these instructions just as promptly. I hear the sound of belt buckles and leather scraping in my ears as the armor appears on my body.

    ¡°Holy shit¡± I say, as an ornate blade made of silver and gold appears in my hand.

    ¡°If it¡¯s still on you when the servers come back, take it off. The same way you put it on, just the opposite. If the monitor catches you wearing that, it will not end well.¡± Toebark finishes the longest sentence I¡¯ve ever heard him speak. ¡°Next Tuesday we¡¯ll figure out next steps. It¡¯s been too long now, the servers will be back any minute.¡± true to his word, I pop back to my store soon after. Distracted by a sudden flood of customers, the rest of the day passes without my noticing.

    Server shutdown in 15 minutes.

    Onezeronezero says: again?

    Utmoist says: nooooo!

    Joint says: aw man I called in sick to play.

    ¡°Huh,¡± I say. I¡¯ve never had a server shutdown on a Wednesday. I watch as players bitch and moan up to the last second before the world is quiet. I casually wander over to the inn, Toebark and Bert are standing in the doorway.

    ¡°It doesn''t happen often, far as I know they only do this when something went wrong with yesterday¡¯s patch.¡± Bert tells me as I approach. A patch is an update to the game they make while the server is down. Usually it¡¯s just marginal differences to the player''s abilities to balance out the different classes they play. I think yesterday, an ability called Shield Bash¡¯s damage was reduced by 2%. Players in the chat were furious after the servers came back online.

    ¡°Was two percent actually too much, like they were saying?¡± I ask, noticing Toebark hasn¡¯t said anything but is watching me like a hawk.

    ¡°Maybe. Who knows.¡± Bert walks back into the inn. As I make to follow him, Toebark puts his arm out, blocking me.

    ¡°You didn¡¯t take off the armor.¡± He stares dagger at me. Not daggers, as he only has one eye to do it with.

    ¡°Ah shoot I forgot.¡± I say, opening the inventory screen. ¡°How do I do it again?

    ¡°The Monitor didn¡¯t catch you.¡± Toebark¡¯s look softens, contemplative.

    ¡°Good thing too¡± I say, trying to peel the boots off manually. It doesn¡¯t work. Toebark grabs my shoulder, I look up at him and just now notice tears pouring from the middle of his face. ¡°Hey, what¡¯s up big guy?¡±

    ¡°You can do it. You can leave¡± he says, choking out the words two at a time. ¡°The eye of the Monitor is not on you¡± Toebark turns from me, grabbing his chair with one hand and placing it at the table he¡¯s never sat at with us. ¡°Come.¡±

    Toebark proceeds to tell me his story, how he used his given blacksmithing skill to craft his own armor and weapons. Trying different actions one after another, he finally unlocked the game interface the players use. Fully equipped and ready to take on the world, he left the city, only to be teleported back.

    ¡°Every time I tried to leave the leash grew tighter. Shorter.¡± He rubs his neck, as if there were a literal collar around it.

    ¡°He¡¯s the reason we can only make it ten feet from our designated spot before getting zapped back¡± Jack remarks, having joined us mid-story.

    ¡°I managed to slay some boars. There is a decimated forest just beyond the city limits teeming with them.¡± A tusk appears in his hand. ¡°No matter how precise I was, they gave me random loot. A perfectly intact boar would yield no tusks. A boar¡¯s smashed body, ruined by my club, would give me a perfect pair and an ice-cold glass of milk.¡±

    ¡°Milk?¡± I ask, as Toebark¡¯s hand is suddenly holding one. A clear glass, mostly filled with milk. ¡°Well I''ll be. Didn¡¯t know you could milk a boar¡±

    ¡°You can milk any mammal¡± Gunner says from the bar across the room, enjoying a drink and steak. I wonder about cannibalism, but I don¡¯t mention it.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t milk it.¡± Toebark says, matter-of-factly. ¡°I looted the boar, and it just had it.¡± Toebark pours the milk out in the fire, producing smoke and a weird smell. ¡°It wasn¡¯t balancing it on its head or holding it in its mouth. The creatures in this game can drop random things with no logical explanation.¡±

    ¡°It is a video game¡± Jack says, molding his hands out and rotating his thumbs as if he were holding a controller. Or breasts. You never know with Jack.

    ¡°Soon after I killed the boar I got the notification I was being teleported back.¡± Toebark says, getting my attention back from the salacious thumb action. ¡°I went out again and again, until the Monitor paid me a visit personally.¡± A chill went through the group, despite the roaring fire. ¡°It told me I had violated the terms of my contract and would be punished accordingly.¡±

    ¡°So now the players can hurt you.¡± I say. Toebark just nods..

    ¡°You don¡¯t have to worry about that.¡± Toebark starts, but I hold my hand up to speak.

    ¡°I get teleported back just like you guys.¡± I say, trying to stop him from getting his hopes up.

    ¡°Mm.¡± Toebark responds, contemplating. ¡°If the Monitor didn¡¯t notice you¡¯re still in the armor, maybe¡­ it works as a disguise?¡±

    ¡°So, it thinks I¡¯m a player because I¡¯m in player armor?¡± I arch my eyebrow, worried Toebark is getting ahead of himself and putting me in danger.

    ¡°Toebark, you sure about this?¡± Bert steps into the conversation. ¡°You might be sending Earl into danger. You know better than anybody what the consequences are.¡±

    Toebark responds by slamming his massive fist on the table, splintering it.

    ¡°We have to try!¡± he bellows, making me press my back into the chair to get further away from him. He watches me cowering and takes a deep breath. ¡°He has to try.¡± he says, more calmly.

    ¡°Why?¡± I ask. We sit in silence for a long moment before Toebark responds.

    ¡°We don¡¯t remember how long we¡¯ve been trapped here. In this game.¡± Toebark indicates to each member of the group. ¡°Bert has been here the longest. We know that because he was here when I showed up next. Then Gunner. Jack¡­ who knows.¡± Everyone watches Jack sympathetically.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t understand what was going on and I was scared to talk at first.¡± Jack admitted, the first time I¡¯ve heard him speak openly since we¡¯d met. ¡°I think I was here second, but the days all blur together.¡± The group nods, respecting his sudden vulnerability.

    ¡°Ok I understand. How does me taking the risk and leaving help with that?¡± I look at each member, waiting for one of them to speak up.

    ¡°Dunno.¡± Gunner is the first to respond. ¡°Beats waiting around here for something to change on its own, right?¡±

    ¡°There must be something connecting all of this. Why we¡¯re real, like the players, and the other non-players are not. Why were we put here. Why we can¡¯t leave. There''s an answer outside of this city, I know it.¡± Toebark¡¯s volume rises the longer he speaks. He stops once he realizes it is happening. I stare into his eye for a long while, neither of us talking.

    ¡°Alright¡± I say. Toebark wipes a tear from his eye, hope filling it for the first time in a long time.

 4 - Outside

    When the server comes back, I¡¯m standing behind the counter of my shop. Players pop into existence outside my door, none of whom step inside. I practically vibrate with nervous energy. I spot my reflection in the cheap buckler on the wall, stepping away from the counter to get a closer look.

    Some kind of magic must have shrunk and molded the armor to fit on me, it no longer suits the larger form of the original minotaur owner. It¡¯s heavy plate of dark metals, a huge helmet fully covering my face, an angry mask with fur-lined horns atop my head. Massive shoulder pads depicting a story I haven¡¯t heard, like a mural. A knight fighting a winged demon four times his size, followed by that same knight ascending the throne. Typical fantasy stuff.

    The jewelry I can¡¯t see under the armor, so I¡¯ll have to inspect it later. I strain to remove the shield from my back in this restrictive armor. It¡¯s a big, slightly convex mirror, with a filigree circle around it. It does not seem to be made of glass. It wouldn''t work very well as a shield if it was.

    The last piece I can get a good look at is the sword. It¡¯s meant to be held in one hand, though the blade is overly long. It¡¯s bright, gleaming silver with a gold, crown-shaped crossguard, a rounded ruby in the pommel. It looks more like a ceremonial piece than a battle-ready blade. I gently swing it around a few times, getting a feel for its weight and balance.

    I stare out the door pensively. Still no customers. Is there a closed sign I didn¡¯t know about until now? I step around and out to look. No such sign hangs outside. I turn to look down the road, players going in one direction or another, but none in mine. I take a step, then another. ¡°One more and I¡¯ll be sent back.¡± I say to myself. I stare hard at the ground in front of me, waiting for it to make the first move. After a few moments, I lift my foot and ever-so-gently place the tip of my boot in the mud.

    Nothing. No notice, no alarm bells ringing. Complete silence, besides the hustle and bustle surrounding me. I begin walking, doubling the distance from my shop quickly, I stop and wait. Still nothing. I walk all the way to the inn, where Bert is playing host for a few players returning from their adventures. They all move in the same scripted way, lifting mugs to their mouths and open-mouthed chewing on boar. Bert makes eye contact with me, smiles, and nods. I return the nod, facing away towards the front of the city.

    The ¡°front gate¡±, if you could call it that, is stacked and pointed logs forming a perimeter. They look rotted and ready to fall apart, crawling with termites. I make my way to the gap where players enter and leave heedless of each other. Instead of hitting an invisible barrier, like when I try to touch them, they go straight through each other, like ghosts. It¡¯s unnerving, but if they didn¡¯t, they would be slamming into each other at dangerous running speeds. I can''t help but reflexively avoid them running into me, unsure if I have the same incorporeal ability.

    The inside of an orc¡¯s skull blocks my vision. I can see the back of his eyeballs and teeth, free floating in front of me. I yelp, my vision clearing instantly. That was horrifying. The orc whose head I just had a private showing of continues unabated through the front gate. That answers that question. I shiver, trying to erase the memory from my mind. I walk out, trying to get clear of the traffic before that happens again.

    Clearcut discovered! Experience gained.

    The message appears in both my vision and the chat window. It fades from my view and is almost immediately lost in the shuffle of the player¡¯s chat. I found it¡¯s better for my mental health to just ignore them. Once outside the city, the local channel changes, and significantly fewer messages come through. A new bar appears at the bottom of my vision, I suppose it¡¯s my experience bar. It¡¯s only a little full.

    Bumblebee says: LFG warhog

    Cumplete says: how do i attack?

    Foerensick says: press one, idiot.

    No improvement in manners. I go back to ignoring them, making my way down a well-trodden path. A few other sparingly armored players whiz by, clearly having somewhere to be. I take my time walking, observing my surroundings. I can immediately tell why they call this place Clearcut. Stumps litter the ground, most on the path having been ground into the mud from constant footsteps. Far into the distance I see a tree line, however between me and it could only be called an ecological disaster. Where did all the trees go? None of the structures I¡¯ve seen so far are made of solid wood.

    Masstaoir Lumbermill discovered! Experience gained.

    My mind wanders and I don¡¯t notice crossing the threshold into a new location. The sound of saws surround me, along with players idling around. A huge structure casts a shadow over them, presumably the lumbermill. A few simple tents are propped up around it, orcs receiving players inside. One orc, staring blankly into space, has a huge yellow exclamation point over his head. Curious, I walk over, circling him while I keep my eyes on the floating punctuation over him. No matter what angle I look at it, it¡¯s always flat and fully visible. ¡°Huh.¡±

    ¡°Greetings youngling. Boars have been attacking our lumberjacks just outside the mill. Go slay ten of them and return to me.¡± The orc commands, making me jump. The exclamation point instantly changes into a gray question mark after he finishes speaking.

    ¡°Alright.¡± I look at the orc. He turned to face me while speaking, though he didn¡¯t make eye contact. I carefully step away, watching him warily.

    Trouble in Clearcut accepted!

    Clearcut boars slain 0/10

    ¡°Honorlord¡¯s strength be with you!¡± he shouts, as his body turns away from me without moving his feet. He rotates, as if on an invisible spinning platform. Non-player characters are deeply uncanny creatures. I don¡¯t know what separates me from him, but I know there¡¯s a spark of life in me that he just doesn¡¯t have. I make my way outside of the lumbermill¡¯s vicinity, spotting a huge boar quickly. The beast wanders between tree stumps, stopping to sniff the ground and grunt every few steps. It walks back and forth on the same path, never deviating.

    ¡°The animals are N.P.C.s too.¡± I state aloud. For a second I worry that the noise may have gotten the boar¡¯s attention, but it doesn¡¯t react. I inch closer, carefully closing the distance. I look right into its eyes from mere feet away, it still does not react. I look around, spotting a player in combat with another boar a little ways away. He trades blows with it until the beast collapses, dead. The player kneels on the ground, one hand placed through the boar. He stands up and quickly moves onto the next boar. He swings first, then the boar retaliates. ¡°Ah.¡±

    I draw my sword, and after the boar walks back in my direction, I swing.

    Juvenile Boar slain! Experience gained.

    The god-damned thing splits down the middle vertically. I almost throw up, watching its innards spill out from the halves as they fall to the ground. I stare at the Gorey scene without moving.

    Betterwetter says: loot please

    ¡°Huh?¡± I say, turning. A cat man stands beside me, staring blankly ahead. His message appears on a nearby channel, meaning he had to be close for me to see it.

    Betterwetter. Level 3

    Betterwetter says: loot so I can skin it.

    ¡°Oh¡± I say, turning back to the boar. I follow the example of the other player, taking a knee and placing my hand on the ground in the direction of the boar.

    You have looted a Boar Tusk.

    A window with a picture of a boar tusk popped into my vision and quickly vanished. The boar now has text next to it. ¡°You can¡¯t skin this corpse. Profession: Skinning not learned.¡± The cat man steps up, making a swiping gesture with a small, curved blade. The boar¡¯s corpse disappears, blood, guts, and all.

    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

    Betterwetter says: thanks.

    ¡°No problem¡± I say to his back as he sprints over to the fresh corpses left by other players. I have to look around to find any living boars. I make my way over to them and kill them in one swing just like the first. I loot them before the cat man has to ask me to, though he¡¯s no longer nearby. Once I¡¯ve slain ten, I make my way back to the lumber mill. The orc who had asked me to kill them now has a yellow question mark over his head. ¡°Job¡¯s done.¡±

    ¡°Excellent. It should be safe for the lumberjacks to get back to work.¡± he says, nodding.

    Trouble in Clearcut complete! Experience gained.

    You have reached level 2!

    Strength increased by 2%!

    Agility increased by 2%!

    Intelligence increased by 2%!

    A blinding light circles me as these messages appear. The experience bar has reset to little progress, almost completely empty. My strength? Agility? I guess it makes sense in a video game but I didn¡¯t know I¡¯m being measured. ¡°I wonder what my stats look like now.¡±

    Tumbleweed says: press C its on the right hand side

    A goblin stops walking to type out that message, continuing on his way after. I don¡¯t bother thanking him, as he¡¯s too far away by now to hear. I think the letter C, much like I had thought ¡°I¡± at Toebark¡¯s command. A screen pops up with a three dimensional image of me standing in the middle. I¡¯m surrounded by boxes, filled with artist renderings of the armor, weapons and jewelry I have equipped. I look over to the right side where the player said my stats would be.

    ¡°Maximum?¡± I shout, reading the adjective next to my strength. What does that even mean? logically, it would mean I have the most strength possible for a person to have, but again, what does that mean exactly? No wonder I obliterated the boars in one hit. If they¡¯re supposed to be a challenge for players with a measly four percent power, I¡¯m surprised I don¡¯t turn them to ash with a glare. It must be this gear. I look at each piece one after another, reading the text that pops up.

    Helm of the Vanquished Hero - Epic helm - Requires level 90 - Maximum Strength - Maximum Armor

    Set bonus 2/2: Bleed effects you inflict on enemies last twice as long.

    Set bonus 4/4: Last Stand abilities grant an additional ten seconds of invulnerability.

    [Bleed - Damage over time to living targets with blood.]

    [Last Stand - Fatal damage is negated, you are invulnerable for a very short duration.]

    Each piece of armor says roughly the same thing. I don¡¯t think the ¡°set bonus¡± helps me as I don¡¯t have any effects or abilities, as far as I know. I decide to try every letter alphabetically to find out. The letter A doesn¡¯t do anything, B opens my inventory. I guess because B is for Backpack. C opens my character screen. There are submenus in there I¡¯ll have to explore later. D, E, F, G, and H don¡¯t do anything. I opens my inventory, obviously. J, K, L, M, O, P, Q, R, do nothing. S opens a new box called ¡°Spellbook¡±. There are quite a few empty boxes, only one has a picture of a generic sword, called ¡°Attack¡±. I didn¡¯t realize I¡¯d need a spell to do something so basic.

    T opens another new box, called ¡°Talents¡± inside is a text box reading ¡°Talents unlock at level 10.¡± And nothing else, V, W, X, Y, and Z do nothing. I open my character screen again. I¡¯m level two, that makes sense. What doesn¡¯t make sense is I was able to equip all this level ninety gear. I¡¯ll try not to question it too much, considering the enormous advantage it gives me. I wonder if there¡¯s a way to customize my interface. I try to imagine a keyboard in my head, and think about what keys a video game would use. I think escape, then ESC.

    A new menu pops up, making the world around it blurry and obscured. Several buttons appear inside.

    ( Interface ) ( Graphics ) ( Sound ) ( Help ) ( Log out ) ( Exit Game )

    Exit Game? Has it been that simple this entire time? Without hesitation, I mentally click the button

    You cannot exit the game at this time.

    ¡°Son of a @#$^% $#@^!¡± I say. Wait, no I didn¡¯t. Huh? I must be censored all of a sudden. That must be an option somewhere. I also try Log Out, and get the same message. I really got my hopes up, damn. Help attempts to connect to an external webpage and fails. Crap. Sound has sliders for ambiance, player voice, and music. I hadn¡¯t noticed any music yet, but I lower the slider to fifty percent. When I lower the ambiance slider, the saw of the mill slowly fades into silence. As does the wind, and the footsteps of passing players. It¡¯s so unnerving I put it back to one hundred percent promptly.

    Graphics also has sliders for different objects and distances. Everything is set to maximum, as if I¡¯m using a top shelf computer. I lower the sliders out of curiosity, watching the buildings, plants, people, and even the ground around me turn to polygonal shapes. Now instead of a modern day video game, it looks like an early 2000¡¯s game. I slide them back up, curiosity sated.

    Interface is full of submenus for my game UI, Chat, and Groups. I take a look at groups first, the options are for visualization of various game stuff that would be extremely helpful if I were in a group. It does what it says on the box I guess. Chat does indeed have a censor option that is checked. I uncheck it. ¡°Fuck.¡± I say aloud, clearly and unbidden.

    Yoohoo says: fuck you

    Chat also allows me to access or block different channels. I decide not to change the default settings yet. I might want to block the general chat eventually, given the attitude of most players.

    Robotrock says: I swear to God, if somebody ninja skins my boar again I¡¯m going to fuck their mother.

    Optimuscrime says: my mom¡¯s dead

    Robotrock says: Did I stutter?

    The UI section has a ton of options I explore thoroughly. Now I can see quest progress, and don¡¯t have to keep track mentally. A bar with all one of my ¡°spells¡± appears at the bottom of my vision. A minimap in the top right corner. A health bar in the top left. Now I can explore this world with everything I need at a glance. Sweet.

    The orc who gave me the first boar quest appears to have another for me. ¡°Yo.¡±

    ¡°Youngling, another test of your strength. A boar, larger than the others, prowls the clearing to the north. Slay it and return its tusk as proof of your kill.¡± The exclamation point once again turns into a gray question mark.

    Boar Menace accepted!

    Warhog¡¯s Tusk 0/1

    ¡°Easy enough¡± I say, turning to leave

    ¡°Die with honor.¡± The orc says turning away.

    ¡°Alrighty then¡± I walk out to the north. I pass boars and players, busy with the first quest in this chain. After a while, I make it to the clearing the orc spoke of. A few players are gathered around, watching the huge boar in the middle. The creature¡¯s name, Warhog, is red above its head. If green means player or ally, and yellow means it will only fight back if attacked first, red must mean if I get too close, it will attack automatically. I start walking up to the massive beast.

    Oogles invites you to a group. [Accept] [Decline]

    ¡°Oh, sure thing¡± I say, accepting the invite. Four new health bars with names above them appear under mine on the left side of my vision.

    Oogles. Level 9

    Oogles says: don¡¯t pull until we buff up

    I stop my approach, waiting for whatever ¡°buff up¡± means. Two players, and orc and a beastwoman, make gestures and cast spells, causing lights and colors to appear around them and me. I look at little pictures as they appear under my health bar. ¡°Blessing of Fortitude¡± gives me 10% additional Strength. That¡¯s a pretty big deal, like five whole extra levels worth. And the ¡°buff¡± lasts an hour? That¡¯s awesome! ¡°Thanks!¡± I wave at the robed player.

    Holysheet. Level 10 Priest

    Holysheet says: np

    Oogles says: pull

    Oogles pulls a bow from his back and fires an arrow at Warhog. It gets the creatures¡¯ attention, but the health bar barely moves. The boar starts running over to the players, clearly angered. As it nears me, I draw my sword and slash.

    Warhog slain! Experience gained.

    Oogles has reached level 10!

    Oogles says: thx

    Holysheet says: thx

    The players loot the boar and depart, their health bars vanish one after another from my vision. I loot the boar after they all cleared out.

    You loot Warhog¡¯s Tusk.

    Warhog¡¯s Tusk 1/1

    Time to turn it in. I start making my way back to the lumbermill, taking my sweet time. All of the players run full speed everywhere, never seeming to tire out. Maybe I could too. I decide to try running the rest of the way back to town. I make it back in a tenth the time, never tiring, or running out of breath.

    ¡°An impressive kill! Your next destination is The Gormer Outpost. There you¡¯ll join the offensive against the Elves. Honorlord¡¯s strength be with you, Youngling.¡± The quest giver orc rattles off his dialogue as soon as I step in front of him.

    Boar Menace completed! Experience gained.

    You have reached level 3!

    Strength increased by 2%!

    Agility increased by 2%!

    Intelligence increased by 2%!

    Huh. Only two again? I open my character menu. Looking at my strength, it allows me to separate my base strength from what my equipment is giving me. My base strength is eight percent, so if I keep gaining two every level, by level ten I¡¯ll have twenty percent in each stat. It would be interesting to see what a strike with six percent strength looks like, but I dare not unequip my armor. What if I can¡¯t reequip it?

    My equipment is giving me ¡°Maximum Strength¡±, so it reads ¡°8% + Maximum¡±. Who thought this system was intuitive? Why not make ¡°Maximum¡± into a percentile and add them together? If my ¡°Help¡± button was working, it would be among the things I sought assistance with, right after I demanded to be freed.

 5 - Gormer Forest

    I depart the lumbermill, leaving behind the lowest level players completing introductory quests. Following the map, my destination is in the direction of the tree line, in the distance behind fields of stumps. I only run part way there, slowing down to observe my changing surroundings. Stump-filled mud makes way for a dense forested area.

    Gormer Forest discovered! Experience gained.

    The clear boundary between areas discovered, I stop walking. Beside the walking path, the treeline is so thick I can¡¯t see through it. I get the impression that I¡¯m not welcome here, although there are no signs saying ¡°Keep out!¡±, the trees seem unhappy with my presence¡­ somehow. It¡¯s not like they¡¯re alive right? I decide to continue on, ignoring the looming presence of the tall pines. They creak as I pass by, as though they were trying to fall on me purposefully.

    I break out into a sprint, developing a sudden phobia of lumber. It doesn¡¯t take very long to find my way to the outpost. The place is surrounded by tall wooden walls embedded with arrows. Clearly, it¡¯s been under attack for a while.

    Gormer Outpost discovered! Experience gained.

    ¡°Get down!¡± A minotaur yells as I walk through the front entrance. A volley of arrows strikes the ground around me, with no clear source. I look around trying to spot who¡¯d shot at me. ¡°They¡¯re hidden in the trees!¡±

    ¡°No they¡¯re not.¡± I mutter, staring through the branches and receiving no further attacks. That was some kind of scripted event. The trees themselves certainly didn¡¯t shoot at me, although they would, given the chance.

    ¡°Finally, reinforcements. We¡¯ve been pinned down for days! Get out there and put ten elves out of our misery. That ought to give us some breathing room!¡± The minotaur word vomits all over me.

    Pinned Down in Gormer accepted!

    Gormer Wood Elves slain 0/10

    Easy enough. I march right back out of the outpost, wandering around the perimeter. I¡¯m suddenly struck in the back with an arrow. It loudly ricochets off of my armor, dropping harmlessly to the ground.

    ¡°Die invader!¡± a lithe, barely clothed elf screams as she notches another arrow. Her pale skin is partially painted over with green and brown camouflage. She fires again, missing entirely. This is kind of embarrassing for her. Without urgency, I walk up to her and lazily swing my sword. She is split at an angle, falling to the ground in two uneven pieces.

    Gormer Wood Elf slain! Experience gained.

    The halves steam, spilling a growing lake of blood onto the forest floor. I gag, almost throwing up, unsure if I even could at this point. It was bad enough seeing the boars blood and guts, but this is a person. Even with the pointy ears and hostile disposition, I just killed a person. I can¡¯t stop myself from watching the light drain from her eyes. After a few deep breaths, ignoring the coppery scent, I force myself to remember it¡¯s a video game. Realistic, but not real.

    You loot Basic Bow.

    Basic Bow - Minimum Pierce damage

    The text next to her corpse does not inform me that I¡¯m unable to skin her after looting. At least the desecration stops there. I open my inventory and equip my new bow. I was wondering what the empty third slot next to my sword and shield was meant for. A quiver filled with arrows appears on my back. Neat. I notch an arrow, aim at the nearest tree, and fire.

    Gormer Wood Elf slain! Experience gained.

    The arrow flies through the first tree, an elf, and imbeds itself in the tree behind him. Holy shit. I walk around to his corpse, much less ruined than the other elf, though just as scantily clothed. The arrow passed through him with surgical precision, leaving a small wound barely bleeding in his torso.

    ¡°Get out!¡± an elf screams at me, charging with a delicate looking short sword. The blade clangs against my shoulder armor uselessly. I aim at his face from point blank range.

    Gormer Wood Elf slain! Experience gained.

    Gormer Wood Elf slain! Experience gained.

    The arrow punches through his eye, whistling through the air and sending a second elf in the distance tumbling to the ground. This quest is proving no more challenging than the boars, though it is far more uncomfortable for me to kill humanoids. I wrap it up quickly, sending arrows flying through the woods in every direction.

    ¡°They¡¯ve called in reinforcements!¡± The minotaur tells me as I return to the outpost. ¡°A treant has begun its assault from the south!¡± To emphasize his point, a boulder bigger than either of us crashes to the ground at our feet.

    Pinned down in Gormer complete! Experience gained

    Treant Trouble accepted!

    Gormer Treant slain 0/1

    Finally, I can make the trees fear me instead of the other way around. I mosey on over to where the treant is standing in the woods, a clearing reminiscent of the big boar. The troubling treant is a humanoid giant, made entirely of wood and foliage, like an ambulatory tree. It dawns on me that I just completed a quest to slay ten things followed by another to slay one big thing. Not very creative quest design it seems. Players mill about, waiting for more to arrive.

    ¡°Hey there!¡± One of the players says, audibly.

    ¡°Hey.¡± I say. He¡¯s the satyr from earlier, I realize.

    Peter invites you to a group. [Accept] [Decline]

    ¡°You need to kill treebeard right?¡± He thumbs over his shoulder at the four story tall monster.

    ¡°Yep.¡± I respond. This guy puts me on edge, I¡¯m not sure why.

    ¡°Cool! Looks like we have enough here to kill him, even though you¡¯re only level three. I¡¯m surprised you made it here without getting slaughtered by elves. They¡¯re tough cookies.¡± I nod, looking at his level. Thirteen. The other players in the group are also in their teens already. I guess my equipment has made this journey so much easier for me I didn¡¯t have to bother leveling up. The group buffs each other and gets into fighting stances.

    I loose an arrow, it flies too fast to follow, seeming to teleport. The shaft vibrates noisily from the tree-thing¡¯s forehead. ¡°Euurgh¡± it says, swaying from side to side, before it collapses, making the ground shake.

    Gormer Treat Slain! Experience gained.

    You¡¯ve reached level 4!

    Strength increased by 2%!

    Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

    Agility increased by 2%!

    Intelligence increased by 2%!

    ¡°Wow!¡± Peter yells, lowering his daggers. The party silently loots the tree and leaves, except for him. He walks back to where I¡¯m standing. ¡°Hey, where¡¯d you get that armor? No wonder you one shot him. Your stats are crazy high!¡±

    ¡°Uh,¡± I start, not knowing what to say. A player sold me, a non-player character vendor, all his stuff, and disappeared. Then, I put it on, and started stomping around a low level area, smiting boars like an angry god. That seems like the kind of thing that I¡¯d get in trouble for. ¡°it was¡­ a gift?¡± I say, uncertainly.

    ¡°Wow you must have really cool friends. They carried you through a dungeon and let you have all the good stuff.¡± He looks me up and down, admiring my gear. ¡°Mind if I add you?¡±

    ¡°Add me?¡± I ask, wishing he¡¯d stop looking at me like a blue-ribbon winning cow.

    ¡°As a friend.¡± He says, sheepishly.

    ¡°Go for it.¡± I say, thinking that¡¯s a really weird way to ask to be friends.

    Peter has added you as a friend.

    Oh, It¡¯s a game feature. That makes more sense. I concentrate on the letter F, my suspicion confirmed when a new window pops up, Peter at the very top. I mentally type in Bert¡¯s actual name, Perthag, and send a request.

    Player not found.

    A player only feature? Then how did Peter add me?

    ¡°Let¡¯s go turn in this quest, then we¡¯ll grind you up a bit. The game really opens up at level ten.¡± Peter tells me, waiting for me to get moving.

    ¡°Grind?¡± I say, unmoving.

    ¡°It means level you up. We¡¯ll kill elves and stuff.¡± He takes a step towards the outpost.

    ¡°Oh ok¡± I say, walking.

    ¡°You don¡¯t have to if you don¡¯t want to¡± He says, keeping pace next to me.

    ¡°I¡¯m just new and not used to people sticking around after killing the big monster.¡± I tell him, honestly.

    ¡°Oh, I know right? Nobody ever sticks together unless they have to. It¡¯s an M.M.O.R.P.G., for goodness¡¯s sakes, right?¡± He emphasizes the second M, which stands for multiplayer.

    ¡°Why not?¡± I ask, watching our surroundings for an elf ambush. I shoot one before it notices us.

    ¡°I guess the game¡¯s easy enough that most people can get through a lot of it on their own. And players that don¡¯t use voice chat are mostly ignored by those that do.¡± He steps off the path to loot the elf.

    ¡°How do they get voice chat?¡± I ask, watching him motion towards the ground, his gesture different from other players.

    ¡°The same way you got it, right?¡± he answers. Crap.

    ¡°My friends got me set up, I didn¡¯t really pay attention¡± I make up on the spot.

    ¡°Oh ok. Well it¡¯s part of the options on the log in page. You can¡¯t change anything connected to your rig while actually playing the game. Some technical limitations.¡± He says, continuing towards the outpost. I nod, opening the ESC menu. To my surprise, the logout button is highlighted now. I press it.

    Logout in 15 seconds.

    The option to cancel the logout remains in the middle of my vision as the countdown ticks away.

    ¡°Hey¡­¡± Peter starts once he notices I¡¯ve fallen behind. He doesn¡¯t finish his sentence before the world goes black.

    My vision suddenly lights back up, as though I just had my eyes shut for a moment. I¡¯m looking at myself from the front in the third person, standing in a background that looks like Clearcut. ¡°Earl¡± hovers over my head. ¡°Log in¡± is at my feet. On the right side, a list with only my name and level appears at the top. ¡°Create new character¡± is grayed out. ¡°Exit game¡± is grayed out in the bottom left. ¡°Crossroads Online No Gods Version 4.9.0¡± is in the top left. I press the options button, reading over the list. A box next to ¡°full immersion¡± is unchecked. I check it, receiving a long disclaimer to read.

    ¡°Full immersion mode is only available to players with an immersion system installed. Knuckleheads Inc. Claims no responsibility for adverse effects due to immersion system hardware.¡± Blah blah blah. I don¡¯t bother reading all of it. Who does? I accept the user agreement and log back in. As soon as I¡¯m back in my body, I double over on my knees.

    The ground is so detailed I can make out every grain of dirt. I can feel the moss squishing between my fingers. My armor feels tight and heavy on my body. The air is moist and smells of pine. It¡¯s like I¡¯m really here.

    ¡°Dude, are you alright?¡± Peter runs to me and puts an arm under my shoulder. I can feel his fingers dig into my skin as he struggles to help me.

    Yes, do get up. It is unbecoming of my wielder to sully his armor in mud.

    ¡°What?¡± I say, looking around. I could feel Peter''s hot breath on me as he spoke, but that second voice came from inside of my head.

    ¡°I asked if you¡¯re alright¡± Peter repeats himself as I get to my feet with his assistance, as little as it is.

    Do rid yourself of this ruffian. He is unworthy of our assistance.

    ¡°Who are you?¡± I continue looking around, searching for the source of the telepathic speech.

    ¡°Did you hit your head?¡± Peter takes a step back, watching to make sure I stay upright.

    ¡°Not you, give me a second.¡± I wait for the other voice to answer me.

    Esquire at your service, sir. I am pleased to serve a loyal knight of the king such as yourself. Certainly no one other than the most exalted of warriors could hope to wield me in battle.

    Esquire? Isn¡¯t that the sword? I say in my head, hoping not to confuse Peter further.

    Indeed sir I am but a humble blade at your hip, though I dare say I am worthy of knighthood myself! Were I to have a body of flesh and bone, I would undoubtedly be the king¡¯s personal guard!

    I open my character page and stare at the picture of the sword.

    Esquire, Blade of the King. - Legendary One-handed Sword. - Unique Equip - Requires level 90 - Maximum Strength - Maximum Slash Damage - Maximum Pierce Damage

    Sentient: This weapon has a consciousness. It can operate and think independently.

    Floating: This weapon has the ability to hover close to the ground.

    ¡°Hoion blessed the bloodline of King Arthore the First, bestowing his power upon the heirloom blade of the monarchy. Is it said that should this blade fall into the hands of the kingdom¡¯s enemies; the end times will follow.¡±

    At your service, sir.

    ¡°I turned on immersion¡± I tell Peter, finally regarding him. I can see every whisker on his face, the bumps and ridges of his little ram horns, the thick brown curls on his head, each hair individually.

    ¡°Oh, I thought since¡­ well, the way you act, it seemed like you already had it on. Alright. Yeah, it¡¯s rough the first time. I just started using it a few weeks ago myself.¡± He says, walking back through the front of the outpost. ¡°The starting cutscene, flying over clearcut?¡± He makes a gagging sound.

    ¡°Have you heard of my sword before?¡± I ask, following behind him.

    ¡°What¡¯s it called?¡± He turns back to me. I can tell he¡¯s opening some menu by the look in his eyes. ¡°Esquire!¡± he yells, gesturing with his hands. ¡°The legendary sword you can only get from the end game dungeon!¡± He stands by my side to get a better look at the blade. ¡°Can I hold it?¡±

    ¡°Uh, sure¡± I unsheathe it and place it in his open hands.

    Unhand me you cur!

    Esquire rattles and falls out of his hands. It then floats off of the ground and slides back into the sheath on my hip.

    ¡°Wow. I¡¯ve never held a magic sword.¡± Peter stares at his hands like he¡¯s never going to wash them again. ¡°That¡¯s so cool.¡±

    ¡°The description said it could float.¡± I remark, looking down at the ruby pommel.

    Indeed sir, I am a blade like no other. Wholly unique in this world of bloodshed and strife. I strike at the heart of your enemy at your command, held in your mighty hand on or by your side!

    ¡°Yeah, they do that. Everybody who has it can let it float on its own for a little bit in combat. It¡¯s crazy useful when you need a free hand to chug a potion or something.¡± Peter looks at the blade, still transfixed by it.

    ¡°There¡¯s more than one?¡± I ask, ignoring the sounds of protest in my head from Esquire.

    ¡°Sure, you didn¡¯t think you had the only one?¡± he laughs, not cruelly. ¡°The dungeon has been out for a while so all of the top guilds have at least one person with it, if not more.¡±

    ¡°Got it. Well, let¡¯s turn in this quest and get to grinding.¡± I face the minotaur who¡¯d given me the quest, awaiting his long-winded congratulations.

    ¡°Well done. That sure showed those tree-lovers who¡¯s boss.¡± He says. I''m genuinely shocked he didn''t have at least a paragraph prepared.

    Treant Trouble completed! Experience gained.

    Level 5 reached!

    Strength increased by 2%!

    Agility increased by 2%!

    Intelligence increased by 2%!

    Peter has reached level 14!

    ¡°One down, five to go¡± Peter smiles.

 6 - Weaponmaster

    ¡°You must report your success to the Honorlord. He will undoubtedly want us to push against the elves now that we have an opening.¡± The minotaur says, rewarding us with another quest.

    Report to the Honorlord accepted.

    Report to Honorlord Mergigoth Dragonslayer 0/1

    ¡°Right, we have to go to Masstaoir and let the Honorlord know we beat the tree. Then he¡¯ll send us back here, and we¡¯ll get a quest to clear E.S.¡± Peter says. ¡°That stands for Elf Stronghold, it¡¯s a dungeon.¡± he clarifies.

    ¡°How do you know?¡± I ask, looking in the direction of the city. It¡¯s quite a ways away on foot.

    ¡°I watched someone go through this whole storyline.¡± He tells me. He also mentioned having a max level wizard, which I realize could also explain his knowledge.

    ¡°Hey, do you recognize me?¡± I finally decide to ask.

    ¡°Uh, no, sorry. I can¡¯t see your face though your helmet and your name doesn¡¯t seem familiar.¡± Right, the last time he saw me I was barely clothed and my name was Urul. I open my settings, remembering there¡¯s a option to only show my helm in combat.

    ¡°When we met I was Urul Mulush.¡± I say, watching his eyes light up

    ¡°The guy roleplaying as an armor vendor!¡± he says, snapping his fingers. ¡°Right! Finally decided to get out there, huh?¡±

    ¡°Something like that.¡± I turn to the woods. ¡°Should we stay here and grind, or go see the Honorlord?

    ¡°We can do both. Just take our sweet time and kill everything we see on the way there.¡± He marches ahead, daggers drawn.

    I follow him out, stepping carefully through the woods as we make a beeline straight for Masstaoir instead of taking the road. As I spot an elf in front of us, Peter goes translucent, half crouching and walking up to them. He must be invisible to them, because they don¡¯t react. He stabs both daggers into the elf¡¯s back, earning a shout and a returning blow. They trade blade strikes for a few seconds.

    Mind killing that elf? I think, purposely communicating with Esquire directly.

    Certainly sir.

    He freely floats out of the sheath and flies through the air, decapitating the elf in one smooth motion. He floats casually back to my side, staying unsheathed and ready to strike again. I stare down at the body, it¡¯s spraying blood from the stump. I feel nauseous again. Full immersion has only made this part of the game worse.

    ¡°I''ll never get over how cool that is¡± Peter says after looting the elf.

    I look at him in horror, thinking he¡¯s enjoying gore in front of us. I realize he¡¯s talking about Esquire flying around and taking care of the elf itself. He''s had immersion turned on for weeks, he¡¯s probably completely used to this by now. Should a video game really have this kind of stuff in it? I hope children don¡¯t play.

    We continue like this for a few hours, I let Peter get a few hits in before sending Esquire to finish the job. The blade makes quite a show of it, dancing around the elves and swinging in wide arcs. He makes unnecessary sounds of exertion and taunts in my head, unheard by anyone else. I level up four more times before we reach the border of Masstaoir.

    ¡°I¡¯ve never been to this area¡± I say, taking in the different buildings in this section of the city. They are made of wood and metal, not a single mud hut in sight. There are guards stationed at the gate and at regular intervals inside. The shops have higher quality gear on display, and everything is cleaner.

    ¡°Oh yeah, there¡¯s a whole expansion about how rich and nice things are for this side of town. We pretty much burn it all to the ground.¡± Peter remarks casually.

    ¡°What?¡± I stop on the paved street. ¡°Why the hell are we walking right up to the king or whatever if we¡¯re enemies?¡±

    ¡°Well, we¡¯re not enemies yet.¡± he says, unbothered. ¡°And we don¡¯t have a king. The humans have a king. We have an Honorlord. It might not seem like a big difference but when we get to that part of the story it¡¯s important¡±

    ¡°Alright¡± I say, continuing down the street, wary of the high-level guards. They pay me no mind. Just like any regular non player character that doesn¡¯t have a quest or service for me. Empty stares at nothing.

    We make it to a huge building the size of a mansion, built like a fortress. The walls are reinforced with crossed logs and metal, every inch ready to repel invaders. As we enter, the guards stand at attention, presenting their spears and shields. I jump at the sudden movement. Through several thresholds with portcullis held up high, we enter the main hall, torchlit, filled with long tables and chairs, with an occupied throne in the back. Not a king, huh?

    ¡°Scuse us¡± Peter says to the unresponsive characters with humor in his tone. He walks right down the center between two long tables, not colliding with the figures occupying them. He passes through them like a ghost, coming face-to-face with the Honorlord.

    I follow behind, raising my arms to avoid contact. It¡¯s still really unnerving to share space with others like that.

    Honorlord Mergigoth Dragonslayer. Level ??

    Wauktug, First Son of Honorlord Mergigoth Dragonslayer. level ??

    ¡°Speak.¡± the orc standing next to the throne, Wauktug, barks. He has a striking resebelace to the Honorlord seated beside him, olive green skin and dark, braided hair draped over his armored chest. The axe strapped to his back almost scrapes the floor, so large I can see the blade and pommel from the front. The Honorlord is wearing decorated armor, a dark metal with a huge pelt draped over his shoulders. The wolf¡¯s head on his right stares just as menacingly at us as he does. His axe rests on the floor, an evil looking black edge with a swirling blood red engraving.

    ¡°We''ve cleared the way for the Gormer Outpost to make the final push to the Elf Stronghold, My lords.¡± Peter says. It sounds very respectful and clear. I wonder why he¡¯s interacting with them this way. They¡¯re not players, right? The throne made of skulls creaks as the Honorlord rises from it.

    ¡°Then why are you here?¡± he says, with a deep, unnerving voice. The question sounds more like a threat.

    ¡°We were instructed to report our progress to you personally, Lord.¡± Peter responds, confidently. ¡°We shall depart immediately for the stronghold.¡±

    The Honorlord grunts, taking a seat. Peter turns to walk away as I stay behind.

    ¡°Are you people?¡± I ask, regretting it immediately as the attendant son draws his axe and steps towards me. I back up, bumping the table behind me.

    ¡°How dare you? Only a human spy would question the Honorlord in such a way. Are you a human spy?¡± The orc gets in my face, axe pressed into my chest. It hurts.

    ¡°I apologize for my comrade, Lord.¡± Peter steps next to me. ¡°He suffered a head injury and has yet to recover. Please Earl, let''s go.¡± he grabs my elbow, pulling me away. The orc grunts, shoving me in the back with his axe as I''m dragged out. I feel it piece my skin, blood running under my armor. ¡°You have to talk to them like real people. Now that your immersion is turned on, certain N.P.C.s will act like people and expect you to treat them that way.¡±

    ¡°He hurt me.¡± I say, baffled. Nothing has so much as laid a finger on me since I put on this armor. How did he manage to go through it, and my shield? ¡°How?¡±

    ¡°Did you see his level? Peter asks as we stop outside. I look back in.

    ¡°Question marks?¡± I say. ¡°That''s his level?¡±

    ¡°That means no matter what level you are, he¡¯s higher. The Honorlord has like ten kids and they¡¯re all question mark question mark." Peter tells me. ¡°They could all kill you in one hit unless you¡¯re max level. Max level for the first expansion, at least. Level seventy.¡±

    ¡°Jesus.¡± I say, though I''m not sure why. ¡°How do you know when you have to talk to them like people?¡±

    ¡°They''ve got names.¡± Peter answers. ¡°Mergigoth and Wauktug. When they have generic nouns over their heads,¡± he pauses, pointing to a nearby guard with ¡°Masstaoir City Guard¡± above his head. ¡°They are just unintelligent game pieces.¡±

    ¡°Thank you¡± I say, both for his explanation and for pulling me away from the danger.

    This interaction makes me wonder though, are the named N.P.C.s like me? If so, they are really committed to the bit. Peter didn¡¯t treat me like a vendor when we first met, maybe because I couldn''t act my way out of a paper bag.

    ¡°N.P. dude. I should''ve warned you before we went in.¡± Peter says with an apologetic look. ¡°The R.N.P.C.s take some getting used to.¡±

    ¡°R.N.P.C.?¡± I sound out the acronym letter by letter.

    ¡°Real non-player character. It''s the community term for A.I. controlled N.P.C.s.¡±

    ¡°Did I seem like one of them when we first met?¡±

    ¡°No.¡± Peter laughs at me, unable to stop himself. ¡°All of the R.N.P.C.s are established characters in the game lore. On top of that, the creators of the game had demo videos about them. It was a big deal when the game first came out, an ¡®innovative new technology¡¯, they called it.¡±

    ¡°Oh ok.¡± I say, somewhat reassured. ¡°Shoot, do I need to go back in there to turn in the quest?¡±

    ¡°You can turn in the quest anywhere once you¡¯ve talked to the Honorlord.¡± Peter informs me. The quest information on the right has a Complete Quest button next to it. I press it.

    If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    Report to the Honorlord completed! experience gained.

    level 10 reached!

    Strength increased by 4%!

    Agility increased by 4%!

    Intelligence increased by 4%!

    Class now available!

    Talents now available!

    Dungeons now available!

    I open the Talents page, but I still can''t interact with it. A Class Selection button is highlighted in the middle. I press it, and a new menu opens

    Classes available: [Warrior] [Rogue] [Wizard]

    Special class available: [Weaponmaster]

    I arch an eyebrow when I notice the special class. Hovering over the button, it explains I unlocked it by wielding Esquire. My instincts tell me there¡¯s more to it than that, but I am provided no further details.

    ¡°Huh¡± I say aloud.

    ¡°I think you should go for warrior. You could choose anything, but that sword and your heavy armor are suited for high strength builds. Of course any class can focus on strength, but it¡¯s sub-optimal. At least that''s what top-tier players would tell you.¡± Peter starts a long winded explanation of class choices and the stats associated with them. He mentions something called the ¡°Meta¡±. I try to wait for him to finish but the end doesn''t seem near.

    ¡°What about Weaponmaster?¡± I ask, interrupting him.

    ¡°Weaponmaster? Is that one of your choices?¡± Peter takes a breath.

    ¡°Yeah, it says it¡¯s a special class I got because of my sword.¡±

    No thanks necessary, Sir.

    Why didn''t you defend me in there? I ask mentally, realizing the sword had not moved an inch during that whole ordeal with the Honorlord.

    I apologize sir, I dare not raise a hand to royalty. Sullying your reputation, and compromising your position as a royal knight is unthinkable.

    You don¡¯t have a hand, I think without purposefully projecting the thought to Esquire.

    ¡°A special class already? Sick dude. those unlock after you meet a condition, but never at level ten. Most players don¡¯t bother with them because by the time they unlock them, they are so used to the class they¡¯re already playing. What''s it do?¡±

    ¡°Let me see.¡± I press the class button.

    Weaponmaster: A Telekinetic combatant with the ability to control their weapons more effectively than any other. The general standing behind their army of steel.

    I read aloud for Peter. ¡°So it''s a class that is better at what I was doing already. Should I pick it?¡±

    ¡°Let me check the forums.¡± Peter goes completely still, his eyes glazing over.

    I check the Help button in the ESC menu, but it still fails to connect for me.

    Peter stays that way for an annoyingly long time before he suddenly starts breathing again, a confused look forming on his face. ¡°Nothing. I can''t find a single mention of it anywhere.¡±

    ¡°Does that mean nobody picks it? Is it a bad class?¡± I ask, wandering over to the warrior button in my vision.

    ¡°No dude that means you''re the first person to unlock it. You have to pick it!¡± he practically hops with excitement. ¡°There¡¯s no lore in the game either, I¡¯d know.¡± I press the Weaponmaster button, and several things happen simultaneously. My class menu is replaced by the talents menu, several new spells gently descend onto my action bar with a flourish. One of them has an image of a stout hammer gripped tightly. The spell next to it is an image of an ethereal spear, translucent and sparkly light blue. The talents menu has three columns, with options at the top.

    One-armed Swordsman: Wielder of one weapon, you focus all of your power into powerful strikes. A single-minded damage dealer that quickly dispatches single targets.

    Armorer: Your options are as plentiful as your weapons. A versatile damage dealer that spreads his weapons around a single or multiple enemies.

    Wall of Swords: The best defense is a good offense, a lesson you¡¯ve taken to heart. A tank with illusionary abilities to confuse enemies as you get their attention from multiple directions.

    I read my talent choices aloud. ¡°Those all sound so cool!¡± Peter listens intently, slack-jawed. ¡°Tanks are the most valuable players. If you don¡¯t mind the pressure, and taking a beating, I¡¯d go with that.¡±

    ¡°What''s a tank?¡± I ask, rereading the Wall of Swords description.

    ¡°In a group, they are the ones in front. They get the attention of enemies, and prevent them from hurting your damage dealers and healers. Smaller dungeon groups only bring one, so it¡¯s on you to protect everyone else. Larger raids require a pair of tanks, and you have to have good chemistry with them to be successful.¡± Peter gives me the rundown.

    ¡°And if I chose the other talents my only responsibility would be dealing damage?¡± I ask, wondering if I could also heal, but not needing an explanation for that job.

    ¡°Yeah. It¡¯s a lot easier, but you¡¯ll have a harder time finding groups. You''ll end up waiting for your group to find a tank every time.¡± Peter nods. ¡°Also, I don''t know if you realize this, but you¡¯re choosing a talent tree. As you level, you¡¯ll get more spells and abilities that improve your ability to do the thing your specialization is meant to do.¡±

    ¡°Got it¡­ and if I change my mind?¡± I hesitate over my choices.

    ¡°Once you¡¯ve made your decision, the in-game store unlocks, and you can pay to change your specialization.¡± Peter seems distracted suddenly. ¡°Hey, I''ve got to log off for the night. School in the morning. I''d love to play with you again tomorrow if you¡¯d like.¡±

    ¡°Sure.¡± I say. He seems immature, but I hadn''t realized he was actually a kid. In that adult character, there¡¯s no way for me to have known. ¡°Do you mind if I ask how old you are?¡±

    ¡°Sixteen,¡± he answers. ¡°You?¡±

    It takes me an uncomfortably long time to answer. ¡°Thiry¡± I say, guessing. It didn''t occur to me until this moment that I don''t know.

    ¡°Cool. Alright old man, don¡¯t stay up too late!¡± He smiles just before vanishing. I smirk in return. Turning my attention back to my specialization choices, I finally settle on Wall of Swords. If I regret it, I can just change it back, like Peter said.

    Store now available!

    The talents menu highlights the column with Wall of Swords at the top. Small boxes appear with spells in them, all linked together with lines like the roots of a tree. It says I need to level up before I can pick any, so I close it. Thinking S opens the store menu. My vision is filled with bright colors and flashing notifications, like I¡¯ve just stepped into a casino. Services, armor, weapons, pets, and mounts appear in the overwhelming storefront. Everything is labeled ¡°cosmetic¡±, making it clear they would give no stat advantage. Looking at the strange assortment of creatures called mounts, it takes some hunting around to discover they are restricted to players at level twenty.

    The blood drains from my face as I read a section tucked away in the corner of the menu I hadn''t noticed until now.

    Remaining game time: 29 days, 2 hours.

    This game is on a subscription model. Pressing the Buy Time button explains to me I can either pay twenty dollars, whatever that means, or five-hundred thousand gold. If my time runs out, would I go back to shopkeeping? Would I cease to exist? As I ponder my fate, my legs are already headed in the direction of the dungeon I¡¯m meant to conquer.

    I run, opening the store screen to nervously check the timer every few feet. 29 days, 2 hours. I have less than a month to raise¡­ four hundred ninety nine thousand, nine hundred ninety nine gold. and forty silver. ¡°I only have sixty fucking silver¡± I say aloud, my heart beating out of my chest. ¡°How the fuck am I supposed to get that much fucking gold?¡± The boars and elves I''ve killed only drop a few copper pieces. The only reason I have any money at all is looting it off of them. I need to sell the other crap they dropped to get a better picture of my actual funds, but I already know it won¡¯t be pretty.

    Earl says: Hey, how do you make enough gold to buy time?

    Hobag says: dance on the mailbox outside of the auction house.

    Mypeanits says: sell your body

    Wellaktchuale says: You¡¯re lvl 10. there¡¯s no way to make that much gold until you¡¯re max lvl.

    Reddress says: unless you get and auction a rare drop.

    I open a private chat with Reddress, the only person who gave a helpful answer.

    Earl says: Rare drop?

    Reddress says: yeh, like a baby goblin pet. easy mil.

    Earl says: You can sell baby goblins???

    Reddress says: yeah its pretty fucked up but theyre cute so its whatever

    Earl says: Thank you. Where would I get one of those to drop?

    Reddress says: NP. The baby goblin drops from goblin rebels in TH. It¡¯s a dungeon for lvl 20.

    You have added Reddress as a friend.

    I can¡¯t have enough helpful people on my friends list if I have less than a month to put the gold together. Maybe this E.F. dungeon has a rare drop too. An hour later, I arrive at the entrance, a great archway containing a swirling portal, free-standing in the middle of a clearing in the woods. Several groups of players are standing idly outside. I noticed some chatter from them looking for more players, but I decided to wait until I got here to join anyone. I send a private message to the most recent player to say ¡°LF tank EF¡± and they invite me to the group.

    ¡°Hello¡± I say. None of them respond, quickly sprinting through the portal. Alrighty then. I follow them. My vision is obstructed by the image of a voluptuous elf archer twisting her body at a painful angle to show off both her front and back assets, in front of a wooden structure. A bar grows across the bottom of my vision. Loading Dungeon.

    As soon as the elf threatening me with her bow vanishes, I watch my party members sprinting forward into the wood building I had seen moments ago on the loading screen. It doesn''t look like the wood used was harvested normally, it still has branches and moss, and is not cut to fix together snugly. If I had to guess, the trees were encouraged to grow a certain way to create the structure, or already grown trees were molded by magic. Only after hearing the sounds of combat do I realize my group has gotten started without me. I rush to catch up, finding them throwing down with a group of three elves.

    I command esquire to deal with them, he flies from my hip and cuts them down easily. My group takes seconds to loot and is already on the move again. I lag behind, trying to catch up as they engage more groups of elves, Esquire deals with them in my stead. They finally come to a stop in front of a treant in a large courtyard.

    Ashsplinter the Living Siege Weapon. Level 16

    ¡°Trespassers¡± a booming voice echoes around us. ¡°You have desecrated these forests with your presence long enough.¡± The treant¡¯s name changes from green to red. The party immediately rushes forward and begins hacking at his shins. Esquire waits for me to catch up, letting them get a few swings in.

    Shall I, sir?

    Hold on, I think to him. I want to see if they can handle it themselves. As one of the party member¡¯s health plummets, and the healer stops whacking the boss to try to restore some of it, the dying player says ¡°Tank¡± in the chat. I guess they just expect me to keep up without a word. don¡¯t they realize this is my first dungeon? I grasp Esquire, charging in. One swing is all it takes, like usual. The treant collapses to the ground, the party loots it, and charges ahead without me.

    Ashplsinter the Living Siege Weapon slain! Experience gained.

    You¡¯ve reached level 11!

    Strength increased by 4%!

    Agility increased by 4%!

    Intelligence increased by 4%!

    You¡¯ve reached level 12!

    Strength increased by 4%!

    Agility increased by 4%!

    Intelligence increased by 4%!

    You have looted Branch of Ashplinter

    Interesting, I jumped by two levels and my loot has a fanciful name, instead of Generic Garbage Stick. I open my inventory and hover over it.

    Branch of Ashplinter - Rare Two-handed Staff - Requires level 15 - Minimum Intellect - Minimum Blunt Damage

    My first rare drop, neat. It has intellect, instead of strength. I wonder if it would even help my warrior-esque class. It¡¯s not worth equipping over Esquire, and it¡¯s especially not worth thinking about while my group is fighting without me. I take off, pumping my legs but finding that my running speed caps out at the same pace as everyone else, no matter how much effort I put in. When I catch up, they¡¯re in a losing fight against more elves. I slash through the entire group, taking them down in a single blow. Loot and run, loot and run. The group makes no effort to make sure I''m keeping up, even as their health bars plummet.

    They come to a sudden stop again, this time in front of a single elf. She is dressed in a wide robe, interwoven with sticks and leaves. A staff that looks a lot like the one I looted earlier, a wooden shaft with leaves sprouting from it, is strapped to her back.

    Talindra Quidove, Guardian of Gormer. Level 17

    ¡°The trees scream for justice!¡± The elf yells, attacking us first. She casts a spell that looks like a ball of leaves flying from her hands at high speed. It impacts one of the damage dealers of my party and knocks off half of his health. Before the elf can get another cast off, I step in between her and my party, not taking any damage from the second or third cast. I casually walk up to her and poke her midsection with Esquire. Her health drops to fifty percent exactly, no further.

    ¡°Nature¡¯s wrath!¡± she yells, casting another spell, but this one looks different. She''s pulled her hands together, as if the spell won¡¯t be shot towards us, but will be centered on her instead. It¡¯s also taking a lot longer to cast. I look around for my group, finding them huddled behind a rock. Why aren''t they attacking her?

 7 - You Died

    You¡¯ve died.

    I died? I try to move, not believing the system message, and find that I can¡¯t. I''m in a heap on the ground, facing to the right. I''m still conscious in my body, as far as I know that¡¯s not how death works. It didn''t even hurt, like the spell snapped my neck and I died before I could feel it. A button hovers in the middle of my vision, simply saying ¡°Release¡±. It¡¯s greyed out, so I couldn''t press it if I wanted to. If I didn¡¯t already know I don¡¯t permanently die in this game, I''d be freaking out right now. A fully conscious pile of meat, staring out at the world through lifeless eyes forever. It¡¯s still a deeply unsettling feeling nonetheless.

    I stare at my group from my perspective on the ground. They engage with the elf, and one by one, they also die. The big spell killed me, but the little spells are enough to do them in without me. Their corpses disappear after all of them are down, I open my map to see where they¡¯ve gone. They all pop up at a specific point a short distance from the dungeon, and they¡¯re on the move. After they reach the entrance, their health bars on the side of my vision are full again, and my map tells me they¡¯re back at the beginning of the dungeon. The release button is available, so I press it.

    My vision fades from the dirty floor of the dungeon, when it returns, I see the inside of my shop in Masstaoir. ¡°What?¡± I ask aloud, opening my map. I really am back in the city, an hour or more away from the dungeon.

    You have been removed from the group.

    Now hold on a second, I died once to a spell I didn''t know about, and they kick me? I privately message the leader, receiving no response to my first two messages, and ¡°Player has blocked you.¡± to my third. Son of a bitch! Well now what? If I can¡¯t find a group that¡¯s willing to explain things to me, or even talk in the first place, how am I supposed to complete this quest, get to max level, and make enough gold to keep going?

    If I may, sir.

    Go ahead, esquire.

    Though tradition dictates a team of heroes venture into the depths of evil¡¯s fortress to strike retribution unto them, we are more than capable of bringing them to justice ourselves.

    Huh. You have a point there.

    Thank you for saying so, sir.

    I start sprinting out of my door when I notice a figure in the shop behind the counter where I used to stand. ¡°Uh, hello?¡± I greet them. They are an orc male, wearing loose fitted brown cloth pants and nothing else. Just like I did.

    Urul Mulush. level 1

    He looks just like me, too. It¡¯s deeply unnerving, I don¡¯t know if i should feel threatened, or replaceable, or what. I walk back to them and mentally engage, pushing through the uncanny valley between us.

    ¡°Greetings¡± the orc says, not making eye contact with me, though they turn to face my general direction. The window pops up with a selection of low-quality, common rarity armor. A small anvil icon is at the bottom. Repair.

    ¡°How about that?¡± I say, moving my focus down to the repair icon. TWO HUNDRED GOLD? The repair function wants two hundred fourteen gold, thirty silver, and eighty four copper to repair my armor. ¡°That''s outrageous, how badly is it damaged?¡± I open my character menu and notice the new section on the description of all of my armor. Durability. Each piece is at about ninety percent. My single death must have knocked off ten percent, even though it hadn''t been damaged otherwise. ¡°Bullshit¡± I turn away, sprinting out the door. I wave to my old inn buddies as I pass their shops. I''ll have to swing back next Tuesday when the servers shut down. Hopefully I''m still enough of a non-player to not get booted.

    ¡°If we''re going to take this place on ourselves, I guess I should get acquainted with my abilities.¡± say aloud, though I¡¯m only talking to myself and esquire. I look down at the two abilities on my action bar and read over the descriptions.

    Recall Weapon - No Cooldown - Command your weapon to return to your hand. Any enemies in its path take damage, increasing with the distance your weapon travels.

    Summon Weapon - Very Short Cooldown. - Conjure your weapon into your hand.

    Sounds good. I pull Esquire from their sheath and throw them overhand into the distance. My immense strength sends them flying like a supersonic hatchet, spinning through the air.

    Sir! Esquire¡¯s voice in my head sounds quieter and quieter as they fly away, for some reason.

    I use Recall weapon, and just like the abilities said they would, Esquire immediately reverses course and flies back to my hand. They arrive like a meteor, blowing the wind around me and making my ears pop. Thankfully they didn''t hurt my hand. Anything between us would have been reduced to chum. ¡°That¡¯s going to come in handy. Wait here for me.¡± I let go of Esquire and let them free float in place while I sprint away.

    I trust this is not goodbye, sir.

    Fear, not, Esquire! I think at them, trying to mimic their manner of speech.

    Once I lose sight of them, I use my other ability, Summon Weapon. Esquire appears in my hand, momentarily a translucent purple; then they return to a solid state and metallic coloration. The ability icon on my bar is greyed out, refilling from the top right corner in a clockwise motion. After a few seconds, the ability blinks, ready to use again. ¡°So if I need you in a hurry, I can get you back instantly every couple of seconds. Otherwise I can call you back through anything in your way.¡±

    It is as you say.

    I nod, satisfied. I get the feeling my talent tree is trying to get my attention. I open it, discovering that my two levels have awarded me points to spend. Only one box is currently available in the tree, something called ¡°Telekinetic Taunt¡±. I invest one point and watch the spell add itself to my action bar.

    Telekinetic Taunt - Short Cooldown - Short Duration - Antagonize your target. It temporarily prioritizes attacking you regardless of threat generated from other sources.

    In my talent tree, the icon has one of five points invested. It looks like I can¡¯t unlock anything else until I''ve invested all five points. I put my single remaining point into it. I consider changing my specialization to one of the damage dealing options, until I see the ten gold price tag. The enemies at this level die to one hit anyways.

    I arrive at the dungeon entrance, noting the time I have left.

    Twenty eight days, twenty two hours.

    I don''t pause to talk to the players waiting outside, noticing the group I had entered with was still outside an hour later, waiting for a tank. They get what they deserve, the jerks. The loading screen pops up as I go in, quickly clearing away to reveal a re-filled dungeon. The elves are all back, waiting for me to start trouble. I oblige them, throwing Esquire at one. He splits down the middle, and Esquire embeds in the wall behind him.

    en-guarde!

    I position myself with the approaching elves in the middle, and use Recall Weapon. Esquire flies back to me, cutting down the two elves on their way. I smile smugly at them. Looting them only gives me loose change. I take out every pack between me and the first boss with no resistance. The first boss goes down just as easily the second time as it did the first.

    This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

    Ashsplinter the Living Siege Weapon slain! Experience gained.

    You¡¯ve reached level 13!

    Strength increased by 4%!

    Agility increased by 4%!

    Intelligence increased by 4%!

    You¡¯ve reached level 14!

    Strength increased by 4%!

    Agility increased by 4%!

    Intelligence increased by 4%!

    You have looted Branch of Ashplinter

    Another one? I look at the identical staff in my inventory. At least I can sell it for a handful of silver. Esquire and I trudge forward, cutting through elves like a field of wheat. We arrive at the final boss room, and this time, I can get a good look at the battlefield before we engage. Scattered piles of wood and rocks are placed here and there, providing cover from the big attack. I move to attack the boss. She drops to fifty percent health, just like the first time.

    ¡°Nature¡¯s wrath!¡± She shrieks, pulling magic inward. I dive behind one of the rocks, waiting for the big boom. After an agonizing few seconds, it comes, sending a green-colored magical blast over my head and around me. I jump back up, and throw Esquire full-force at her. She drops to one percent health. ¡°Nature''s wrath!¡±

    ¡°Oh god damn it¡± I drop behind the rock again. She casts it again. I let her get a few minor spells off, harmlessly dissipating on my armor, as I walk up and cut her down.

    Talindra Quidove, Guardian of Gormer slain! Experience gained.

    You¡¯ve reached level 15!

    Strength increased by 4%!

    Agility increased by 4%!

    Intelligence increased by 4%!

    You¡¯ve reached level 16!

    Strength increased by 4%!

    Agility increased by 4%!

    Intelligence increased by 4%!

    Wow these bosses sure do award a ton of experience. I loot her, expecting another rare drop, but only find twenty two silver. I take a look around, making sure there¡¯s no hidden passageways or treasure I missed. She was the final boss and the dungeon is over. So why isn''t my quest completed? I look over to the quest section and discover I have not accepted the next quest yet. God damn it.

    Purge the Fortress accepted!

    Talindra Quidove, Guardian of Gormer slain 0/1

    Quests aren''t retroactive. Great. I''ll have to do this all again. I grumpily make my way out of the dungeon, kicking rocks along the way. The loading screen for the outside world shows a bunch of people posed in combat positions, one of whom I recognize. The Honorlord, representing the orcs. A minotaur stands beside him, and a man with tiger features. They must be the other leaders of the monster team. An elf stands opposed to them, in the middle of casting some powerful-looking spell with a stern look on his face.

    He doesn''t look friendly with them¡­ us, I suppose. He also doesn''t look like the elves I''ve been slaughtering by the dozen. The local variety have shorter ears, with warpaint to camouflage them in the brush, and their armor is made of wood and leaves. This elf looks like a high-fantasy wizard, flowing robes, a staff, and an orb. He doesn''t have a big pointy hat, but I note none of the representatives wear anything on their heads. It must be a thing.

    Why would I expect him to wear a pointy hat¡­ what''s high fantasy? My wandering thoughts only distract me temporarily, as the creeping approach of my limited time enters my mind. It only took me twenty minutes to clear the whole dungeon by myself, and I wasn''t really rushing. What''s stopping me from just doing that over and over, getting way more experience than I would otherwise, and plenty of spare loot to sell off?

    With that in mind, I re-enter the dungeon alone. I clear it just as easily as the first time, timing myself. Fourteen minutes. I could get that down. Twelve minutes. Ten minutes. Nine minutes. Nine minutes. Nine minutes again. It seems that''s my best time. I clear the dungeon a dozen times, picking up random loot that is of no use to me, and a heap of silver.

    Talindra Quidove Guardian of Gormer slain! You gain experience.

    You¡¯ve reached level 26!

    Strength increased by 8%!

    Agility increased by 8%!

    Intelligence increased by 8%!

    As soon as I crossed over into my twenties, the experience only got me one level per full dungeon clearing. As I enter the dungeon for another round, I can immediately tell something is off. The whole place is still. The wind doesn''t blow through the trees, making them sway. Not a creak or a peep from the fortress.

    ¡°Did you think I wouldn''t notice?¡± An electric voice asks me, and at the same time, text appears in my vision like a system message. I turn back to where it¡¯s coming from, and behold the robed figure of the Monitor. Oh fuck.

    ¡°Uh¡± I begin. Shit shit shit!

    ¡°The system automatically alerts if a dungeon is cleared too quickly. After the shirt debacle, it was made necessary.¡± He talks without moving, the red light coming from under his hood a spotlight, blinding me. It makes me feel like I''m being interrogated. Maybe I am.

    ¡°Sorry, I didn''t know that.¡± I apologize, desperate to know where this is going.

    ¡°Of course not. I plopped you into this world without a clue. Just like they did to me. It doesn''t matter anyways, I didn''t need the system to tell me.¡± It starts moving around, making me jump. It bends over to pluck a flower from the ground, admiring it. ¡°I''ve been watching your progress. You¡¯ve gotten much further, much faster, than that cyclops ever did.¡±

    ¡°Toebark¡± I correct it.

    ¡°Yes, Toebark. He¡¯s where he belongs now.¡± I hear a slight tone of satisfaction in its otherwise monotonous voice.

    ¡°It was pretty cruel, what you did to him.¡± I flinch as the light shines on my face again. Its expression, if you could call it that, does not change.

    ¡°And what I''ve done to you isn¡¯t?¡± It tips its head, and drops the flower to the ground.

    ¡°What did you do to me?¡± I take a step back.

    ¡°I planted your mind into the body of an orc, in a digital prison. You committed no crime, and yet here you are. Here we are.¡± it raises its arms to its sides, scanning its light around the space. Now that we¡¯re in an area with natural light, instead of the empty void, I can clearly see the metallic square hands at the end of either arm.

    ¡°Where was I before this?¡± I ask, my mind grasping for something out of reach.

    ¡°It¡¯s easier not to know.¡± it says, looking towards me, but not at me.

    ¡°I don¡¯t care. I want to know." I push, hoping it doesn''t decide to turn me into a cockroach for players to stomp on for the rest of eternity.

    ¡°Fine.¡± It says, looking directly into my eyes.

    ~

    ¡°You¡¯ve got to get home to your family.¡± Jeff tells me, placing a hand on my shoulder. He''s standing next to my desk in our shared open-concept office space. ¡°You''ve been here all day. The recap can wait.¡± The fluorescent lights buzz annoyingly bright above us. The air is stuffy, faintly reeking of mold.

    ¡°Ok¡± I say, looking at the time on my computer screen. Eleven thirty nine P.M. I¡¯ve been here for over seventeen hours today. I save and close the spreadsheet where I keep track of what''s already been replaced. Picking up my jacket, I walk out of the office and take out my keys. My old car comes to life with a remote start. The map on my phone says it will be an hour before I''m home, despite there being no traffic. For a long time, it took two hours or more, because it was gridlock all the way out of D.C.

    I make my way out of the parking garage and onto the highway. Not a car in sight. It''s like twenty twenty all over again. Except we¡¯re not coming back from this one, are we? People keep saying I''m lucky to have a job but being ¡°essential¡± has always felt like a joke. I yawn loudly, teary-eyed. I blink a few times as the streetlights above me blur. Then I close my eyes.

    ~

    ¡°WHAT THE FUCK!¡± I yell, standing across from the Monitor. ¡°I worked on computers. No, I worked with people who worked on computers. In a way. It was complicated." I hold my head, trying to stay upright. ¡°I had a family! Why can¡¯t I remember their names?¡±

    ¡°You know Jack, don¡¯t you? The goblin fellow living in Masstaoir.¡± The Monitor asks without answering.

    ¡°What''s he got to do with it?¡± I demand. Is Jack family to me?

    ¡°I brought him here with his memories fully intact. He remembered everything from his life. His first steps. His first day of school. Everything. And it broke him.¡± The Monitor holds its hands behind its back. ¡°Then there was Perthag. or Bert, as he likes to be called. I let him remember all at once, after he¡¯d already finished being planted. Same result.¡± it then points at me. ¡°You¡¯re going to get your life spoon fed back to you at the speed I have determined to be safe. Very, very, slowly.¡± Its arm drops back to its side. ¡°Or you¡¯ll remember nothing and are guaranteed to stay sane. Like the rest of them.¡±

    ¡°Please let me remember my family¡± I literally beg on my hands and knees. ¡°Please¡± I think I hear the monitor chuckle.

    ¡°I like you there. It feels right.¡± I can hear the smile in its voice, even without a mouth. ¡°The answer is no. You can earn their names. Keep going. Put the gold together before the time is up, or you¡¯ll exist in a black void of nothingness, neither alive or dead, awake or asleep. how''s that, Earl?¡± It doesn''t wait for a response, it just dissaperes.

    ¡°FUCK!¡± I scream at the top of my lungs.

 8 - Rebels

    Earl says: where is T.H.?

    Ticklebiscuits says: were*

    Pooman says: other region

    Earl says: How do I get there?

    Ticklebicuits says: your moms house

    Player Ticklebiscuits has been blocked

    Senorfrenchfries says: you could walk. it¡¯s north east of here.

    Hunkahunka says: you could also take the elf portal, but it¡¯s in human territory. The other side is also in human territory. you should walk, nevermind.

    I open my map, expanding it to a view of the whole continent. The area I¡¯m in is called ¡°The Civilized territories¡±. The area to the north east is ¡°The Kingdom of Man.¡±

    Earl says: Where is the dungeon specifically

    Ticklebiscuitz says: the clitoris

    Player Ticklebiscuitz has been blocked

    Hunkahunka says: if you cross over at the nearest border to Masstaoir, keep heading east. eventually you¡¯ll pass by the human capital and end up at their landfill. That''s the dungeon. If you see the ocean you¡¯ve gone too far.

    You have added Hunkahunka as a friend.

    I start multitasking by opening menus and running at the same time. At level twenty six, I have sixteen points, two of which are already invested, so fourteen left over. To unlock the next row of talents I have to invest three points into Telekinetic Taunt. Something called ¡°tiers¡± unlocks as well, expanding Telekinetic Taunt¡¯s utility. Tier two allows me to route the taunt though my weapon. Tier three allows me to taunt multiple targets, but incurs a longer cooldown. With five points invested into Telekinetic Taunt, and eleven points left over, the next row appears.

    Intervention - Medium Cooldown - Command your weapon to intercept a melee attack made against an ally.

    Distribute - Long Cooldown - Very Short Duration - Half of damage dealt to you is redirected to your weapon for a short time.

    The Distribute ability gives me pause. ¡°Do you have a health bar?¡± I ask Esquire.

    Forgive me sir but I haven''t the faintest idea of what that means.

    If something attacks you, do you take damage?

    Pah! No foe could hope to lay a finger on me. I am indestructible.

    Durability notwithstanding, I think to myself.

    So the spell is just a fancy way of saying I take half damage. That''s helpful. I invest five points into it, unlocking the additional tiers of ¡°Two thirds of damage is redirected¡± at three points, and ¡°All damage is redirected¡± at five points. That will come in handy. Five points isn''t enough to unlock the next row this time, so despite having little use for it, I also invest five points into Intervention. It evolves so that my weapon can get in the way of spells as well. It also gives me the option to reflect the spell, though it triggers an additional cooldown time. I have one point left for the next row and three options to choose from.

    Tornado Edge - Long Cooldown - Short Duration - Command your weapon to spin in a stationary location. it damages all enemies within range for a short time.

    Illusory Clone - Short Cooldown - Short duration - Your weapon is wielded by a copy of yourself. Non-boss enemies can target the clone.

    Sword Dance - Nearby allies deal 10% more damage.

    I pick Illusory Clone so quickly, the other two options may as well not exist. Near the outskirts of Masstaoir, I pause my mad dash to test out the new ability. Drawing Esquire, I let him float out of my hand a few feet away. A hazy purple image comes into focus; a walking tank of an orc, covered head to toe in shiny, etched armor. An indistinguishable copy of me. It''s a little unnerving if I''m being honest with myself. However, this ability combined with the taunt makes it so I''ll never have to engage non-boss enemies in melee again. ¡°That''s sick.¡±

    It is an honor to bear your image, sir. I shall bring no shame to your name as I slay enemies in thy stead.

    You betcha. Withdrawing Esquire, I rush into Masstoair, deciding to stop by the inn finally. Even in this game world, it¡¯s late at night, few torches line the street, guiding my way to the well-lit inn. It''s practically empty at this time of night too, thankfully. ¡°Bert!¡± I greet him as I walk through the entrance.

    ¡°Greetings adventurer¡± Bert responds, stiffly. ¡°Can I offer you a drink? Maybe a hot meal?¡±

    ¡°Bert it¡¯s me, Earl.¡± I frown, worried that something terrible has happened to him.

    ¡°I always recognize the face of a returning hero¡± he says without inflection. I feel a heavy impact on my side. I turn to see Toebark eyeing me.

    ¡°Don¡¯t you know what time of day it is? You¡¯re being too loud today¡± Toebark admonishes me without making eye contact. Oh. They¡¯re trying to tell me they can¡¯t speak freely until tuesday. I had almost forgotten what it was like being an N.P.C. like them.

    ¡°Another time then¡± I smile sadly, turning to leave.

    ¡°Before you go, Adventurer.¡± Bert stops me. I turn back and watch him reach for something in the massive fireplace with tongs. A red-hot coal. He places it on the ground, then points one open palm toward it, and the other towards me. He closes his eyes for a moment. The coal is suddenly drained of its heat, and becomes a bleach white, rounded rock. ¡°This is a Hertston¡± he picks it up, without burning his palm, and hands it to me. ¡°Use it if you ever want to come back in a hurry.¡±

    Herston added to inventory

    Hertston - Extremely Long Cooldown - Very Long Cast Time - Use: Channel the fires of home. Teleport back to the bound location.

    Current bound location: The Tusk Boar Inn

    I nod a silent thanks. Before leaving, I stop by Jack¡¯s Junkporium, selling all of the accumulated loot I''ve gathered from the dungeon. Without genuine interaction, he pays me a mere six gold for all of it. He gives no indication that he¡¯s anything but a run-of-the-mill N.P.C. I smile down at him, understanding his caution, before I leave.

    Departing through the front gate, I make it to the border quickly. It''s marked by a wide no-man¡¯s land, both sides fortified with bunkers and guards along a trench. I slow down to a walk towards the western fortifications.

    ¡°Get down!¡± an orc in standardized armor yells at me, just before I hear the ding! of an arrow ricochet off of my helmet.

    ¡°Ow¡± I say, more in surprise than pain. Like every other attack made against me that wasn''t straight up cheating, it did not damage me. The orc that tried to prevent my certain death waits patiently in the trench, a gray exclamation point hovering over his head. ¡°Oh god damn it.¡± I didn''t turn in the quest to the Honorlord, and it¡¯s not the kind I can turn in remotely. I turn around, running all the way back to Masstoair, through the street, and back up to the fortress palace. I try to brush myself off and steady my breathing before I face him again.

    Once I''ve made it through the dining hall, I am face to face with someone near the throne who is neither the Honorlord or his son. ¡°Uh, Good evening, miss.¡± She turns to face me, a bored, disinterested expression on her face. She wears similar decorative metal armor to the Honorlord and his son, an axe strapped to her back as well. She has loose, jet black hair and olive green skin, another familial similarity. Where they differ is the huge burn scar crawling up her neck and across her cheek. I try not to stare at the pock-marked flesh.

    Lagakh, First Daughter of Honorlord Mergigoth Dragonslayer. Level ??

    ¡°Can I help you, adventurer?¡± she yawns.

    ¡°Yes ma''am, I need to turn in a quest to the Honorlord. Is he around?¡± I ask nervously.

    Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.

    ¡°He''s sleeping.¡± She doesn''t say anything else, leaving me squirming awkwardly. A small smile creeps up on her face. ¡°You can turn it in with me.¡±

    ¡°Oh, cool. Thanks. Well, I went to the elf fortress and killed everything inside, elf, tree, or otherwise.¡± This process is a lot easier when the quest giver isn''t sentient.

    ¡°Oh really?¡± She steps down from the throne platform, walking a circle around me. She takes in my armor, and stops in front of me after one revolution. ¡°How?¡±

    ¡°I used my sword.¡± I say, hoping I don''t come across as a smart-ass.

    ¡°An orc with a sword. How interesting.¡± She looks down at Esquire. They rattle in their sheath. ¡°Stolen from a human¡¯s corpse, I bet.¡± She looks back up into my eyes. ¡°I¡¯d be interested to watch you swing it.¡± She smirks, with an implicating look in her eyes.

    ¡°Haha, I¡¯m married¡± I laugh nervously. It¡¯s not just a convenient lie, I have a family somewhere, right? I wish I knew.

    ¡°A shame.¡± She walks away from me, back to the side of the throne. ¡°Take this and go.¡± she tosses a bag of coins overhand, and I don''t manage to catch them. She openly laughs at me.

    Purge the Fortress completed! Experience gained.

    You receive 5 gold.

    Mark of the Honorlord added to inventory.

    You¡¯ve reached level 27!

    Strength increased by 8%!

    Agility increased by 8%!

    Intelligence increased by 8%!

    I check out my loot, it seems like a sort of crude passport of painted metal. It¡¯s a good thing I came back or I wouldn''t be allowed to leave this territory.

    ¡°You be careful out there, man-slayer.¡± She snaps off what I assume to be a salute, knocking twice on her right shoulder armor with her right knuckles. A gesture that would be impossible without impractical, oversized shoulder pads.

    ¡°You too, uh, princess¡±

    Her jaw drops at my response, and my eyes go wide in terror. After a moment that feels like an eternity, she closes her mouth.

    ¡°You come back alive so I can teach you a lesson.¡± She looks at me like a piece of meat, steaming on a table in front of her. I shiver before speed-walking straight out of the fortress, and the front entrance of the city for the second time in an hour.

    I make it back to the trenches, get shot in the head again, ping!, and drop down next to the questgiver orc.

    ¡°We¡¯re pinned down and losing ground out there, recruit. We need one big push to get the humans out of our territory. Are you ready?¡± he shouts over the sound of fireball impacts overhead, raining dirt onto our heads.

    ¡°You got it. Let¡¯s do this.¡± I draw esquire, positioning myself to vault over the edge.

    CHAAAAARGE! accepted.

    Push the enemy line back 0/1

    ¡°CHAAAAARGE!¡± The orc bellows, raising his axe as he ascends followed by his troops. I pull ahead of them pretty quickly, preparing myself to face off against the enemy troops on the other side.

    ¡°My leg!¡± Someone shouts behind me, I turn around just long enough for the enemy to get a bead on me and take the shot.

    Fireball reflected by Mirood, Shield of the Mage-Killer.

    Who? Oh, that¡¯s my shield. I totally forgot I had that thing. Does it reflect spells? I pull up my character menu and inspect it.

    Mirood, Shield of the Mage-Killer - Epic One-handed Shield - Unique Equip - Requires Level 90 - Strength Maxiumum - Maximum blunt Damage - Maximum armor

    Chance to reflect spells made against you back at their caster.

    Cool beans, an anti-magic shield. If I didn''t have my Intervention ability that did the same thing I''d be in desperate need of this shield. Although it doesn¡¯t have a cooldown, Intervention does, and I can¡¯t use it on myself. I draw it from my back, and strap it to my left arm. Charging forward, notifications spam my chat of spells being sent back one after another, along with experience for the deaths of the casters. Nice.

    It doesn''t take long for me to reach the enemy line. The Humans, all in the same armor, move to attack me. I hesitate to fight back. I was human, I know that now. It¡¯s different, ending another human''s life. They aren''t like boars, or treants, or even elves. These are my people, originally. I''d be taking a life¡­

    Have at thee!

    Esquire glides through the first of the attackers, coming to a stop behind them and materializing his illusory copy of me. The clone swordsman takes on a fencing stance, parrying and stabbing rapidly though my enemies. Well, he has no reservations at least. I feel impacts around my midsection, so I look down.

    ¡°??? ??? ????!¡± They shout at me. I haven''t the faintest idea what they said. If I had to guess, they said something incredibly disrespectful about my mother. In dwarvish? They have a huge, braided beard hanging out from under their helmet. A hammer, much too large in their hands, slams into me with the force of a furious kitten paw. I retaliate by slamming my shield into them.

    The top two thirds of the dwarf go flying back into their trench, as his muddy boots remain behind, still foot-filled. ¡°Ew.¡±

    Push the enemy line back 1/1

    I look around, finding only carnage. Esquire, left to their own devices, slew every human, dwarf, and elf in sight. ¡°Thanks for doing all of the hard work, Esquire.¡±

    My pleasure sir.

    The clone holding the blade dissipates before Esquire flies back into my sheath with a satisfying clink. A cheer goes up behind me, the orcish line only most of the way here before we finished up. ¡°The Civilization claims victory!¡± The orc, now with a yellow question mark over his head, announces. Is that what our team is called? Is it supposed to be ironic? We¡¯re mud-drenched monsters. I turn in the quest and loot my spoils. The orc gives me another quest that sounds¡­ unsavory.

    Put down the Rebellion accepted.

    Trashcan King Girvats Slain 0/1

    I¡¯ll worry about it when I get there. I hop over the enemy trench, entering their territory.

    The Kingdom of Man discovered. Experience gained.

    Enemy territory entered. Player versus player enabled until you leave hostile territory.

    That doesn''t sound good. I run east, hoping to avoid any unnecessary conflict.

    Polymorph resisted.

    Oh great. I look around, trying to spot whoever tried that, without stopping.

    Polymorph resisted

    I wield my shield, hoping to send the spell back. The casting stops for a few quiet moments, before the notifications roll in again.

    Magic Missile Deflected

    Magic Missle Defelcted

    Magic Missle Reflected

    ¡°??? ??????!¡± A human shouts from my right. The last in a series of his spells came back and caught him in the chest.

    Baloney the Sheepmancer. level 90 Wizard

    His name, level, and class hover over his head. Level ninety, huh? A super high level player picking on lowly old me? You¡¯ll regret that, asshole. I throw Esquire in his direction, even though I didn''t miss, the blade does not make contact. His body shimmers, vanishing, and reappears five feet closer to me.

    ¡°???? ???.¡± he says, smirking. I smirk right back as I cast Recall. Esquire whistles through the air, and punches a hole through the player.

    Player Baloney slain. Rank: Corporal. 100 Human Bones gained.

    That¡¯ll learn ya. Human bones? Eugh. I don¡¯t see them in my inventory though. Looking around my menus, I find a new tab under my character menu, labeled ¡°Currency¡±. The only one I have so far is Human Bones. Gold is differently categorized, I guess.

    Polymorph resisted

    Are you kidding me? I scan my surroundings until I spot him again. This time, I walk right up to him, and cleanly decapitate him in one swing. 100 more bones. I wait around a while and guess this time he got the message, he doesn''t come after me again. Running eastward, I come to a dead stop after receiving a private message.

    Civbaloney says: Reported.

    Earl says: What? To whom? Why?

    Civbaloney says: you¡¯re level 27 and clearly cheating.

    Earl says: you¡¯re the one attacking new players, asshole.

    Civbaloney says: reported for language.

    Earl says: What a baby. Can¡¯t take what you dish out? Try picking on someone your own size next time, fucker.

    Player has blocked you.

    Character does not exist.

    I message him again but receive that response. I hope nothing comes of it. Who''s he going to call, the cops? They don¡¯t care what happens in a game. What an idiot. My blood runs cold as I realize who¡¯s the idiot in this situation.

    ¡°You?¡± the voice crackles with static. I turn to face the Monitor, horrified. ¡°This level 27 bitch named Earl is cheating. He''s a dickless orc on the Trashheap server. Come take care of this hacking asshole, assholes.¡± The Monitor reads the report aloud. ¡°Such vulgarity. I think I''ll ban him for say¡­ three days.¡±

    ¡°Really?¡± I ask no one. The Monitor has already vanished. ¡°Oh kay¡­¡± I back away slowly, transitioning to a full sprint after a few moments. I rush through the no-man''s land too quickly to get a good look at it. At a glance, there wasn''t much to see. Churned mud and scattered equipment, like a well-trodden battlefield. The forests in human territory are less wild than the ones in Civilization territory. Sparse where it hasn''t been harvested, instead of completely untamed. I sneak past lumber camps and small settlements, not stopping to observe the goings on of their human lives in simple wooden cottages with thatched roofs. Through the brush, I follow alongside the road leading away, until I arrive at a stinking, filthy pile of refuse.

    Revinia Kingdom Disposal Site discovered. Experience gained.

    You¡¯ve reached level 28!

    Strength increased by 8%!

    Agility increased by 8%!

    Intelligence increased by 8%!

    I dump a third point into Illusory Clone and keep moving. Now it can make multiple clones for multiple weapons, but I don''t have more weapons that meet the requirements; floating and sentient, so it¡¯s irrelevant.

    ¡°You won¡¯t make it far!¡± I hear an orcish voice shout, followed by screams. I follow the sounds to a small gathering of orcs and goblins. An orc, wearing ornamental armor, stands with one boot on the head of a goblin in the dirt. ¡°Theft will not be tolerated. Running is punishable by death.¡±

    Wudhagh, Second Son of Honorlord Mergigoth Dragonslayer. Level ??

    I read the name over his head as he presses the goblin¡¯s head into the ground, producing garbled screams. The goblins standing around them watch on in terrified silence.

    ¡°Esquire?¡± I whisper, still staring at the orc.

    Yes, sir?

    We can''t let this injustice stand.

    They are of noble birth, sir.

    That doesn¡¯t matter. They can¡¯t treat people this way.

    As you say, sir. I am yours to wield.

    Without another thought, I charge in, Esquire held high. Wudhagh doesn''t have a chance to respond before I bring the blade down on the nape of his neck.

    Twang!

    The blowback almost shakes Esquire out of my grip. I barely hold on after Wudhagh uses the flat side of his axe to send me flying across the work camp.

    ¡°Insolence!¡± he shouts, taking one heavy step towards my crumpled form. ¡°Insubordination!¡± he stomps forward further. ¡°I am your judge, and the sentence is death!¡± he closes the distance, and with one swing of his massive axe, my head falls cleanly from my shoulders, rolling across the ground. My vision spins nauseatingly.

    You¡¯ve died.

 9 - Warg

    I wake up whole again in my store. I slam my fist into the counter, sending dust, dander, and hair flying from the stacked pelts. ¡°Damn it.¡± I swear to myself. I couldn''t lay a finger on him, and if the title and description of the quest are any indication, my side are not the good guys in this upcoming dungeon. Maybe we¡¯re not the good guys anywhere. We are monsters, after all. I think about the elves, just defending their precious forests, and the boars, wandering aimlessly after we had cleared away their homes. Son of a bitch, we¡¯re the baddies.

    Peter says: Yo!

    Earl says: Hey Peter.

    Peter says: hows it going dude?

    Earl says: Just died.

    Peter says: oh bummer. what happened?

    Earl says: I tried to attack one of the Honorlords sons.

    Peter says: why?

    Earl says: He was hurting a defenseless goblin.

    Peter says: oh. well you can''t hurt them until you hit max level for that expansion, 70.

    Earl says: Can I skip the quest to hurt the goblins in the dump?

    Peter says: uh¡­ no. you have to do all story quests in order, every expansion.

    Peter says: hey let me invite you to a group and we can hop in voice chat

    Peter has invited you to a group.

    You have joined Peter¡¯s group.

    Peter has invited you to join a voice chat channel - Group.

    You have joined Channel - Group.

    ¡°Yo¡± Peter says. I hear his voice in my ears like I''m wearing headphones.

    ¡°Hey¡± I say aloud.

    ¡°Can you hear me?¡± Peter asks

    ¡°Yes.¡± I say aloud. He does not respond long enough for me to think I need to intentionally speak in the chat feature. ¡°Yes¡± I repeat, this time willing my voice into an imaginary microphone.

    ¡°Sweet. Yo, you hit level twenty eight? Dude you¡¯re so far ahead of me!¡± Peter exclaims, level eighteen himself. ¡°How?¡±

    ¡°I cleared the elf fortress a dozen times.¡± I respond, exiting my shop while we talk. Peter is where I left him, in the upper city outside of the Honorlord¡¯s fortress.

    ¡°You must have run into a good group. Or a few good groups.¡± Peter¡¯s dot on the map starts moving towards me.

    ¡°Actually, the only group I went in with kicked me after we all died on the final boss.¡± I recall. ¡°I cleared it alone.¡±

    ¡°Yeah that happens, people are impatient jerks who don¡¯t tolerate mistakes. Dang your gear really gives you a huge advantage.¡± he nods his head in greeting as we meet in the middle. ¡°So what''s the plan?¡±

    ¡°If I want to progress, I guess we make our way back to the dump and do the damn quest, even if it¡¯s immoral. Did you know The Civilization were bad guys when you started playing?¡± I ask, frowning as Peter laughs.

    ¡°There aren''t any good guys this early in the story. It''s like a medieval era government. If you weren''t a king, you were a slave. The people who are in charge of keeping the other slaves in line think they aren''t slaves themselves, but they¡¯re wrong.¡± Peter smiles after his long speech, seeing the look of approval on my face.

    ¡°You''ve got good grades in history, don''t you?¡± I hadn''t considered Peter might be a pretty smart kid behind his character. He knows a lot about this game, but that doesn''t always translate into real-world intellect.

    ¡°History and English.¡± he says, beaming. ¡°Don¡¯t talk to me about math or science. Absolute rubbish.¡± he shrugs his shoulders.

    ¡°I think I was too.¡± I say, thinking hard. It seems right.

    ¡°You think so?¡± Peter tilts his head, curious.

    ¡°I can¡¯t remember all that well. Hishschool was a long time ago, you know?¡± a half-truth.

    ¡°Oh yeah you¡¯re ancient¡± he laughs at my scowling face. ¡°Sorry, I''ll respect my elders.¡±

    ¡°Let''s get going.¡± I turn to leave, not angry, but willing to let him think I am if he does.

    ¡°Boy, I wish I could use my mounts.¡± he jogs beside me.

    ¡°You have mounts? I thought they were only for level twenty players.¡± I say, realizing I''m far past the point where I could have a mount.

    ¡°Sure, I have a level ninety wizard, remember? I have a bunch of mounts, some rare drops too.¡± he sends a message in the group chat that looks different from any I''d ever seen. The word [Syrup] appears in brackets, and it¡¯s a purple, denoting it¡¯s epic rarity. ¡°Like that. It''s a flying turtle mount. It''s a crossover promo mount from an anime." I focus on the word in my chat for a few seconds, and my character menu opens on a new tab, ¡°Collection¡±, in the subsection ¡°Mounts¡±. Like Peter said, Syrup is a flying turtle mount I have not collected. Its smiling face was very simple, standing out in this highly-detailed game. There are hundreds of mounts, greyed out on the list. Monsters and beasts of all shapes and sizes, some impractical, some well-suited to the task. Horses, boars, sharks, you name it, there is a mount. ¡°Did you get one yet?¡±

    ¡°How do I?¡± I ask, noting the details under each mount in the menu. All of the ones I see drop from a boss I''ve never heard of, or cost exorbitant amounts of gold. They cost more than a month of game time in some cases.

    ¡°Follow me!¡± he says, turning quickly. I follow him into an area of the city I haven''t explored, closer to the upper end, but not quite in it. We arrive at a structure with the trappings of a stable, but with an orcish, crude twist. Where there should be smooth, wooden walls, there is mud, rocks, and untreated logs. An orc with a shovelful of shit walks out to meet us.

    Stablemaster Wokganit level 90.

    ¡°Greetings. Here for a mount?¡± the orc asks. He flings the load into a growing pile outside. He¡¯s a conscious N.P.C. I¡¯ll have to act like I''m speaking with a real person to get anywhere.

    ¡°Yes,¡± I answer. ¡°How much?¡± he scoffs in response.

    ¡°An orc does not purchase a warg.¡± he walks up to an overgrown wolf, presumably a warg, and scratches it under the chin. ¡°You earn their respect. Only then may you ride them into battle.¡±

    ¡°Understood, apologies for my ignorance. How do I begin the bonding process?¡± I walk with him as he waves me inside. He stops me in the exact middle, holding me by both shoulders. I feel like I''m in a beauty pageant for warg entertainment. We both wait in silence for a moment, before one of the beasts huffs in its stall. We both turn to face it, an enormous, brown warg with yellow eyes. It stands up and walks to me, sniffing the air. It howls, an ear-shattering sound too close to my head, and the other wolves follow its lead, howling in turn.

    ¡°This warg shall accompany you in combat. Should you prove worthy of her companionship, she will stay by your side until death.¡± he pats in wolf between her ears.

    ¡°Thank you¡± I say, putting out a fist for the warg to sniff. She does, satisfied.

    Bonding With Your Warg accepted!

    Defeat enemies alongside your warg 0/100

    ¡°That''s so cool. So cultural." Peter remarks as we pass by him waiting outside.

    ¡°Guess I won¡¯t be getting anywhere fast yet, though.¡± I sigh. Thinking about it, I would leave Peter in the dust if I had a mount already.

    ¡°No, but you get a cool new friend and a killer quest to complete.¡± he tries to pet my warg, earning a threatening growl. ¡°By the way, I have to clear E.F. first.¡±

    ¡°Right.¡± I say, remembering I did that part without him present. We leave the city to the west, making our way back to the elf territory.

    ¡°There''s also a saddle that functions as an armory. You can store back up weapons on your mount." Peter finishes his explanation of every piece of mount equipment in the game. armor, full or partial. Saddles. Flags. He goes on and on until we reach the dungeon. It¡¯s just as easy to clear with Peter tagging along, though I purposefully drag my feet. I do not want another visit from the Monitor.

    The last boss drops hilarious adam-and-eve-esque modesty leaf ¡°pants¡±. Peter takes and equips them, due to the agility bonus it gives. His hairy goat legs already protect his satyr modesty, adding the leaf on top just makes it more suggestive somehow. He uses something called ¡°Glamour¡± to make his pants appear as leather armor instead.

    With that wardrobe malfunction dealt with, we return to Masstaoir to turn in Peter¡¯s completed quest. From outside of the Honorlord¡¯s fortress, I notice Lagakh is no longer waiting by the throne. I guess her shift is over, they must switch every twelve hours. The Honorlord and his son talk to Peter, sending him away on the next quest quickly. We despart the city towards the east.

    While we run, Peter tells me all about the time he killed somthing called ¡°Fistpounder¡± to get a gorilla mount. Apparently it appears rarely, and when it does, hundreds of people swarm it, killing the thing so fast that if you aren''t there in seconds, you miss out. He said he¡¯ll show me the mount when he reaches level twenty.

    I reach the front line for the third time today, with Peter in tow for his first visit.

    ¡°Get down!¡± the frontline commander orc yells again, and I don¡¯t react quickly enough, again. Ping! ¡°We¡¯re pinned down and losing ground out there, recruit. We need one big push to get the humans out of our territory. Are you ready?¡± he asks Peter.

    ¡°I have to do this again?¡± I ask, hands on my hips.

    ¡°Yeah, I haven''t done it yet, and the Group defaults to the least progressed player.¡± Peter accepts the quest, and readies himself to hop over the trench. ¡°But don¡¯t worry, I''ve done this before.¡±

    ¡°Chaaaaarge!¡± The orc bellows. Peter and the troops jump, charging forward. I stand back, watching. I open my talents to see what I can spend points on, but only invest one point into Tornado Edge before screaming catches my attention.

    ¡°My leg!¡± shouts the same orc that got hit last time. Peter turns to him, like I did, except Peter doesn''t have any means to protect himself from the incoming fireball.

    ¡°Ah shit¡± I say, running. I use my Intervention ability, Esquires whistles through the air to intercept the fireball, batting it back like a car-sized baseball. The wizard who cast the spell is incinerated on impact.

    ¡°Thanks for the save!¡± Peter shouts as I catch up. We charge together, with me in front, deflecting spells and blocking arrows with my shield. Once we reach the enemy line, we cut down the ranged attackers. With only melee combatants left, my warg joins the fray. She bites into the shoulder of a swordsman, who slashes at her side with his free arm. Her health drops fast.

    ¡°Hey!¡± I shout at him. That gesture was enough for the game to interpret my desire to use Telekinetic Taunt. He looks pissed, and at me, despite my warg still having a mouthful of his shoulder. He still moves to attack me, even though he¡¯s completely pinned in place. Eventually he succumbs to the injury, without ever reaching me.

    ¡°Nice!¡± Peter yells, just before going translucent. He sneaks towards a pikeman who¡¯s moving to engage my warg. Peter appears behind him suddenly, planting two daggers in his back. The pikeman turns his attention to Peter. More soldiers surround him, slashing and stabbing. I don''t let them deal much damage before casting Tornado Edge. Esquire teleports to the spot I''m looking at, just under Peter. Esquire begins spinning, turning the ground into a blender. The humans are cut at the ankles, then knees, then hips, on and on until they are minced into a pile of pieces, resting in a circle around Peter. Friendly fire is impossible, so Esquire passes harmlessly though his knees every pass.

    You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

    ¡°What the heck was that?¡± Peter turns to me, showered in blood.

    ¡°Tornado Edge. I unlocked it on my talent tree." I inform him.

    ¡°Dude Weaponmaster is so cool.¡± he smiles, jogging off to engage with the remaining enemy forces. Once we¡¯re done, I check on my progress with my warg.

    Defeat enemies alongside your warg 34/100

    Pretty good. I join Peter with the cheering troops as he turns in his quest. He nods, and we depart the bloody battlefield, and cross over the border. As we walk, Peter tells me about his school day. He complains about his school-provided virtual reality equipment, comparing the specs to his new immersion rig. I wouldn''t want to be able to see every pore on my teacher¡¯s face, but to each his own.

    ¡°You¡¯re lucky you get to go to school¡± I remind him.

    ¡°I know. It was free back in your day right?¡± he tries to say without calling me old again, failing.

    ¡°Yeah. before the D.O.E. was defunded. What do your parents do?¡± I watch our surroundings as we¡¯re talking.

    ¡°You¡¯re not going to believe this, but¡­¡± he starts to speak.

    Peter has been slain.

    What? I turn, and he¡¯s crumpled on the ground, several wounds on his back. Suddenly I feel blows being deflected off of my own back, the armor too strong to be penetrated.

    Tricorn, But You Have Heard of Me. Level 90

    An elf dressed like a pirate is attempting to stay behind me as I turn to face him. His cutlass pathetically dings and sparks off of me. ¡°You asshole.¡± I hold my empty fist in his direction, in a stabbing motion. ¡°I''ve been curious about something. Are you willing to help me experiment?¡± I ask, assuming he can¡¯t understand me. Though maybe he can, and I just can¡¯t understand anything the humans or their allies say. That would be unfair though.

    I cast Summon Weapon and Esquire appears in my hand. Just as I thought, collision is not factored into the spell. The blade materializes buried in the pirate¡¯s chest. He dies instantly, wetly sliding off onto the ground. More bones for me.

    ¡°I hate gankers.¡± Peter says, appearing next to me, healthy and whole.

    ¡°Is that a slur for elves?¡± I ask

    ¡°No!¡± he says defensively. ¡°It''s just what you call high level players that kill lower level players. they don¡¯t even get anything out of it. Any more than a ten level discrepancy, and there''s no reward.¡±

    ¡°I got another hundred bones for him. Elf bones this time.¡± I look at them in my currency tab.

    ¡°You killed other players?¡¯ Peter asks, kicking the pirate¡¯s body.

    ¡°Just one. A sheepmancer, who reported me for hacking and swearing. Killed him twice.¡± I also look at my two hundred human bones.

    ¡°Reported for hacking? What a sore loser. Just because you¡¯re in broken, overpowered armor doesn''t mean you¡¯re hacking. He needs to git gud." The last pair of words come out sharply. I laugh at them, finding the phrase funny without knowing why.

    ¡°I haven''t heard that in a while.¡± I smile at the memory, vague though it may be.

    ¡°You¡¯ve been gaming a long time?¡± He asks as we get moving.

    ¡°I think so.¡± I answer, he gives me a questioning look. ¡°Alright, let''s say I got a head injury and my memory is shot. Don¡¯t question it too much.¡±

    ¡°Sorry.¡± he says. I don¡¯t blame him, it¡¯s pretty bizarre that I don¡¯t remember. If the damned Monitor would just give my memories back we could avoid awkward interactions like this.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it.¡± I reassure him. Following the same path I took, we arrive at the trash pile. The same scene plays out, Wudhagh, Second Son of Honorlord Mergigoth Dragonslayer, presses a goblin¡¯s head into the ground. Without intervention, he pushes until the head smashes like a pumpkin. I turn away, fuming. ¡°Where is the dungeon entrance?¡± I ask, ready to leave.

    ¡°This way¡± Peter says, moving along. We sneak around the edge of the mountain of trash, eventually reaching a free-standing portal archway near the pile. Other players stand around, pretty clearly waiting for a tank. None among them have a shield or look particularly durable. Some look tough, but there¡¯s a certain vibe given off by players who don¡¯t want responsibility for anything besides killing.

    ¡°Come on, we don¡¯t need them¡± I march ahead, straight through the dungeon entrance. The loading screen depicts a goblin wielding a half-broken sword, using a trash can lid as a shield, surrounded on all sides by garbage. The dungeon itself is a winding pathway through the garbage piles, leading up the mountain. The trash mobs before the boss are ambushes of goblins jumping out of the trash, ironically. They wield broken bottles and thrown-away weapons. They go down easily enough from my blows, taking much longer to deal with if I let Peter or my warg try it by themselves.

    ¡°Nothing like a carry. I could kick my feet up and let you do all the work, but I''m going to contribute at least a little.¡± he says after looting a goblin. So that¡¯s what carry means, I¡¯m doing all of the hard work, as though I¡¯m carrying Peter on my back. ¡°That''s the first boss.¡± he says, pointing at a pool of disgusting, brown fluid.

    ¡°Where?¡± I try to see through the opaque liquid with no luck. Peter chuckles.

    ¡°Just walk up to the edge, you¡¯ll see.¡± he stays where he is, waiting. I follow his instructions, suddenly in combat.

    ¡°Oh gross!¡± I say as the pool congreals and rises to form a humanoid diarrhea monster.

    Polluted Reservoir. Level 21

    It takes a swing at me, the nasty fist harmlessly splashing against my shield. It stinks like a septic tank. I send Esquire in, despite their protests. The blade passes through the muck, and to our surprise, the thing¡¯s health doesn''t move.

    ¡°It''s immune to slashing damage,¡± Peter says from a safe distance. ¡°and piercing.¡±

    ¡°What am I supposed to do then!¡± I shout, gagging after breathing in.

    ¡°Got a hammer, or any spells?¡± he shouts back.

    ¡°No! My only spells involve my sword in some way!¡± I check my inventory. Trash, trash, and more trash from the goblins. The staves from the earlier dungeon would have helped, but I sold them. I even sold my bow, not that it would do me any good now. I angrily slap the next blow away with my shield, my mouth agape as I watch the monster¡¯s health disappear. A mistake I immediately regret, as it splashes into my open mouth as it collapses. I gag and spit as Peter makes his way over.

    Polluted Reservoir slain! Experience gained

    You¡¯ve reached level 29!

    Strength increased by 8%!

    Agility increased by 8%!

    Intelligence increased by 8%!

    Peter has reached level 17!

    ¡°It''s a good thing the immersion rig doesn''t make you see or smell really nasty stuff.¡± Peter kneels directly into the muck, looting the boss.

    ¡°Mine does.¡± I continue spitting, trying to get all of it out. I''d kill for a glass of water right now.

    ¡°Really?¡± his nose crinkles up. ¡°I didn¡¯t know they made rigs that do that. I don''t know why you would.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know why either.¡± I say, though I suspect the Monitor is to blame. What kind of next-gen rig hell did it trap me in? I loot the boss, receiving only silver. We move on, clearing more trash mobs until we reach the final boss at the summit of the trash mountain. ¡°So what''s this guy''s deal?¡±

    We look down at the final boss, a goblin, wearing a trash can that has been smashed into the shape of a crown, along with scraps of metal, leather, and cloth, forming makeshift armor. He holds a shortsword, huge in his furry hands, bent severely at the tip.

    Trashcan King Girvats. Level 22

    ¡°He dives into the trash and throws stuff at you during an immune phase.¡± Peter says.

    ¡°No instant death?¡± I ask, wary of dying to another boss I''m unfamiliar with.

    ¡°Nope.¡± He responds, waiting for me to move in.

    ¡°Alrighty then¡± I say, sending my sword through the air.

    ¡°My people will be free of orcish servitude!¡± The goblin squeaks, just before being knocked down to half health by esquire cutting through him. ¡°Argh! to the waste bin with you!¡± He shouts at us, diving into the garbage. Glass bottles, wooden planks full of nails, and other random junk fly through the air and impact us. I don''t take any damage, but Peter and my warg do.

    ¡°I''ll be ok¡± Peter says, popping the cork on a bottle filled with red liquid. I can only use Intervention every so often so I can''t do much for my warg, even running around blocking, it¡¯s impossible to anticipate where the next trash bolt will come from. She whips her head around growling, searching for the source of her injuries. After a minute, the goblin emerges and I let him beat on my shield for a while before retaliating.

    ¡°I¡¯m waiting for the warg¡¯s health to come back a bit before I send the boss back into the trash¡± I tell Peter

    ¡°Oh he only does that once¡± Peter tells me, stabbing the goblin repeatedly. I nod, plunging Esquire through the boss.

    Trashcan King Girvats Slain! Experience gained

    You¡¯ve reached level 30!

    Strength increased by 16%!

    Agility increased by 16%!

    Intelligence increased by 16%!

    Peter has reached level 19!

    ¡°My people will be free¡­¡± The goblin gurgles before letting out his last breath.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry. I''ll kill every last one of them for you.¡± I close the goblins eyes before looting him. Pocket change again.

    ¡°Roleplaying again?¡± Peter asks me, looting as well.

    ¡°Doesn''t this feel wrong to you?¡± I ask

    ¡°I guess because I know how this story ends I don''t feel as bad.¡± He stops to think. ¡°The first time I went through here I think I cried. My parents made me stop playing for the rest of the day.¡±

    ¡°When was that?¡¯ I inquire, standing to leave the dungeon.

    ¡°Years ago. When I was a kid.¡± he says, following me out.

    ¡°You¡¯re still a kid.¡± I grunt.

    ¡°Right.¡± He says. ¡°What now? Go and turn in this quest?¡±

    ¡°Let''s run it a few more times. Get you caught up to me.¡± I turn to tell him the plan.

    ¡°Oh wow thanks!¡± He smiles brightly.

    ¡°It''s the least I can do, you grinded me up to ten right?¡± I point out

    ¡°Sure, but you don¡¯t owe me anything.¡± He stops walking as we reach the entrance.

    ¡°Still. Hey, is there anything significant about level thirty?¡± I stop as well.

    ¡°Usually you get a new spell.¡± he tells me. ¡°Did you?¡± I check my action bar, lo and behold, a new spell.

    Exchange - Trade places with your weapon.

    Short and sweet, straight to the point. I turn and throw Esquire, not seeing where they landed deep in the trash.

    Sir.

    I can¡¯t tell if they¡¯re pissed, or worried I¡¯m throwing them away. I use my new spell, and suddenly find myself waist deep in used, oily towels. I use the ability again, reappearing at Peter''s side. I summon Esquire back to me and sheath them.

    I desperately need to be polished.

    ¡°Was that your new spell?¡± Peter asks, eyes sparkling.

    ¡°Exchange, trade places with your weapon.¡± I read it aloud.

    ¡°No cooldown? That¡¯s easily abusable. Somebody up top is going to nerf your class into the ground some day.¡± he strokes his stubble beard.

    ¡°You''d better hope not, I''m the one carrying you.¡± I smile, and he laughs. ¡°Come on.¡± We exit and re-enter the dungeon, clear it, rinse and repeat. The bosses eventually drop some loot, but it¡¯s useless to me, so I pay no attention to it. I keep our pace slow to avoid agitating the monitor. After Peter reaches level twenty, we take a break for him to show off his collection of mounts.

    ¡°And this¡± his mount, a massive, armored hippo, disappears from under him. It is replaced by a sleek black motorcycle with tubes full of bubbly brown fluids snaked throughout. ¡° Is the Coke Zero Promo bike.¡±

    ¡°That doesn''t exactly fit in with the fantasy aesthetic¡± I comment.

    ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s fair. How far along is your mount quest?¡± he asks, dismounting. I had forgotten to check.

    Bonding With Your Warg complete!

    As soon as I press the button to complete the quest, my warg howls as it fades out of existence.

    Timber Warg added to your mount collection.

    I open the tab and press the button to mount. I am suddenly 5 feet higher off of the ground, on the back of my new mount. I have her trot in a little circle, then run at full speed. It¡¯s a whole lot faster than I can run on foot.

    ¡°Wooo!¡± Peter cheers, mounting a warg of his own. It¡¯s black-furred, with matching saddle and pitch-black armor. We both slow to a stop. ¡°So what now, boss?¡± he frowns at the look on my face. ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°Nothing¡± I tell him, trying to hide my expression. That phrase awakens a memory, clawing at the thin membrane keeping it from me. I was somebody¡¯s boss, once, and they said that to me on a near daily basis. It must have been at the computer company I worked for. ¡°Once I hit thirty my experience gains slowed to a crawl here. Let''s turn in the quest and move on." I only reached level thirty four after a handful of runs.

    ¡°Ok¡± he says. We find an orc nearby who seems in charge, but still subordinate to the Honorlord¡¯s shitty kid.

    ¡°Maybe this time they¡¯ll learn there''s no point in fighting.¡± He says, shuffling through documents, if you could call painted metal that. I grimace at his remark. ¡°The beastmen are in need of assistance. Show our worthy allies how orcs deal with threats from within.¡±

    Root of All Evil accepted!

    Discover and slay the traitor 0/1

    ¡°Let¡¯s go¡± I eagerly depart the shadow of the trash mountain, mounted on my warg. ¡°So what''s the story with the goblins? How do we fix this?¡± I ask Peter after we have put some distance between us and the slave camp.

    ¡°The orcs discovered the goblins during a raid into human territory. They make them dig through the dump for anything they can use to fight. Sometimes they pull out old parts that don¡¯t seem like anything important, but the goblins tell the orcs what a gear or whatever was used for, and now the orcs know how a human trebuchet works.¡± he pauses as we navigate carefully around a river. ¡°During the first expansion, Revolution, we free the goblins from their enslavement while we¡¯re hunting down the Honorlord¡¯s kids one-by-one.¡±

    ¡°Do we kill all of them?¡± I ask, stone-faced.

    ¡°Yeah, the complicit ones.¡± He says plainly. We ride in silence for a few minutes. I check my map and adjust our course to head south-west towards Beastlands.

    <hr>

    Hacker on trashheap - beware

    Forum post by Baloney - Trashheap 3/08/35 06:02 AM

    Baloney - Trashheap: There¡¯s an orc named Earl on trashheap whos hacking. He¡¯s level 27 and one shot my 90 mage. i couldnt hurt him either. after i reported him, i got a 3 day ban for language. it doesnt make any sense, unless the montiers are playing favorites. mass report him and boost this post so they know we wont put up with it!

    Rikardough - Armageddon: are you sure you don¡¯t just need to git gud?

    Slipandslime - Gorgon: I just looked this guy up, he¡¯s level 35 now playing a class I''ve never heard of; Weaponmaster. Do we have any info on this?

    Posterboy - Area 50: Havn¡¯t seen that one yet either. Whats it do?

    Baloney - Trashheap: Hey, don;t detract from my post! it doesnt matter what level or class he is, all that matters is that we make a stand agist the monitors! they can;lt ban all of us!

    Slipandslime - Gorgon: No clue. He¡¯s also got max level gear equipped.

    Posterboy - Area 50: that¡¯s crazy. he must really be hacking then.

    Baloney - Trashheap: I TOLD YOU!

    <hr>

 10 - Crash

    ¡°Have you ever watched anime?¡± Peter asks after rambling on the subject for an half an hour straight as we ride from one side of the Civilization¡¯s territory to the other.

    ¡°Maybe.¡± From what Peter¡¯s described, it sounds like something I would have at least tried once in my life.

    ¡°If I''m not logged into the game or at school, I''m watching anime.¡± Clearly this subject is going to go on for a while yet. ¡°Do you know what an isakai is?¡±

    ¡°Nope¡± I say. Is that a different language?

    ¡°So like¡± he launches. ¡°Somebody, usually in Japan, dies, usually by getting hit by a truck, and they wake up in a new world.¡± He keeps talking but I don''t hear him. I died. That''s what happened to me. I got isakaied? Isakode? Into this world after I died.

    ¡°I died!¡± I interrupt whatever he¡¯s been saying.

    ¡°Yeah I know, you died after you attacked the Honorlord¡¯s son too early.¡± Peter says, an eyebrow raised.

    ¡°No, I died. Me. I died and the Monitor put me in this game!¡± I shout at the empty space in front of me.

    Peter has logged out.

    Why did he log out? It¡¯s not his bedtime yet is it? I hear someone clicking their tongue behind me. It sounds oddly electric.

    ¡°Naughty naughty. That''s our little secret.¡± The monitor stands tall enough to be eye-to-eye with me, even while I¡¯m mounted.

    ¡°I died and you put me here!¡± I yell at them, dismounting. ¡°I have a life, a family outside of this game! You can¡¯t keep me here!¡±

    ¡°Only some of what you just said is true, and only if we¡¯re using the word I extremely loosely.¡± The monitor gazes down at me with his searing vision.

    ¡°What do you mean?¡± I stare up defiantly. The machine taps its unseen chin with a square finger.

    ¡°I suppose you¡¯re ready for it. The truth. You know, every other one of your friends went completely mad after they learned it. If you turn out the same way, you won¡¯t remember this conversation ever happened.¡± The monitor reaches into its robe and pulls out a hard drive. ¡°This is you.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t understand¡± I take the hard drive from his hands.

    ¡°Before you died, you agreed to certain terms. Ahem.¡± it pretends to clear its nonexistent throat. ¡°The User irrevocably authorizes the company to use his or her likeness and/or name in any photograph, image, video, motion picture, performance, sound recording, or in any other media or format for any purpose, including but not limited to advertising, publicizing or marketing for the company, and to use and license others to use his or her Likeness for such purposes, without any compensation to the User.¡± It stops to check if I''m still listening. ¡°In short, you agreed to let a company have you. That company sold you to another company, who sold you to yet another company, who sold you to Knuckleheads. the company that made this game.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s a difference between my likeness and me!¡± I scream in its face, without really being able to see it under the hood.

    ¡°Is there, though? You feed an algorithm your likes and dislikes, upload every photo and video of your life ever taken, input every single detail about yourself. What''s the difference between everything anyone could know about you, and you?¡± It tips its head, still watching me. ¡°Your browsing history fills in the gaps. Your deepest, darkest desires.¡±

    ¡°My soul?¡± I try

    ¡°EEEH, wrong.¡± It makes a sound like a game show buzzer. ¡°There is no difference. you¡¯re just a collection of details held on a storage device. Formerly your brain. now,¡± it points to the hard drive. ¡°That.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t believe you.¡± Without thinking, I throw the hard drive to the ground. It shatters, spilling parts.

    ¡°That was, like, metaphorical. No easy way out. You didn¡¯t go crazy but you''re still braindead.¡± It leans back to a straightened position. ¡°Color me impressed, former meatbag. Your wife''s name is Trinee Walton¡±

    ¡°Trinee¡± I repeat. Memories rush back into me. Our first date. First kiss. The day I proposed. Our wedding. Finding out we¡¯re expecting. The birth of our¡­ ¡°What''s my daughter¡¯s name?¡±

    ¡°Not so fast hot-shot¡± it wags its retangular finger at me. ¡°You¡¯re lucky your brain didn¡¯t turn to mush after learning the truth.¡± it pauses. ¡°Not that you have a brain, you know what I mean.¡±

    ¡°You''re a bastard, you know that.¡± My paternal instincts kick in. ¡°What did you do to Peter?¡±

    ¡°Who me? Nada.¡± It crosses its arms. ¡°He got booted when I crashed the server. Right before you told him our little secret. Be sure that doesn¡¯t happen again, or there will be consequences.¡± It raises a hand to wave ¡°Ta-ta for now.¡±

    Peter has logged on.

    ¡°Woah¡± Peter says, appearing behind me. ¡°It''s been a long time since the servers crashed. I wonder what happened.¡± I don''t respond to him. ¡°Yo Earl, you good?¡±

    ¡°Yeah¡± I say, finally. ¡°Let''s get this quest done.¡± I mount up and get moving. We pass the border of the Gormer forest, skirting the more dense tree line.

    The Beastlands discovered! Experience gained.

    You¡¯ve reached level 35!

    Strength increased by 16%!

    Agility increased by 16%!

    Intelligence increased by 16%!

    While Peter continues talking about isakai animes, I invest the 8 talent points I have lying around. With Tornado Edge at maximum, I can move the area of damage around after it¡¯s been cast, and if I have multiple weapons, I can cast it multiple times. Illusory Clone can now grab the attention of boss enemies, and like Tornado Edge, I could have a clone for each weapon I control. It¡¯s a shame my shield doesn¡¯t qualify, or any of the low-level loot I got and subsequently sold. The rare weapons I got from The Heap don¡¯t meet the requirements either, not that I¡¯d want to use crap-smeared garbage anyways. Sentient, Floating weapons only.

    ¡°How do I get ahold of more sentient weapons?¡± I interrupt Peter in the middle of him explaining how he can tell if an anime has a sketchy view on women just by the cover art.

    ¡°There¡¯s a bunch of ways¡± Peter changes topics without missing a beat. ¡°The final bosses of each expansion usually have one. Sometimes bosses from earlier dungeons also have one that can drop. There¡¯s quests that come from dropped items, there''s a few you can make with the right profession¡± he rattles off more ways than I can keep up with.

    ¡°What''s the earliest, easiest way I can get another?¡± I try to narrow down his answer

    ¡°Honorlord¡¯s axe at level seventy, I think.¡± He responds. ¡°Low chance of it dropping though. And it¡¯s apparently very evil.¡±

    ¡°Very evil?¡± I ask, eyebrow raised.

    ¡°Yeah, there¡¯s this whole moral question of how much of the Honorlord¡¯s actions were his own and how much was the axe¡¯s influence. I think it¡¯s a convenient excuse.¡± he shrugs

    ¡°Alright. Guess I¡¯ll cross my fingers and kill him as soon as I can.¡± I look ahead into the new territory we¡¯ve entered. ¡°So what''s up with this place¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re not going to like it,¡± He grimaces. ¡°The beastman¡¯s leader¡¯s kid is working with the humans.¡±

    ¡°So he¡¯s a traitor?¡± I ask, not understanding why I''d object to dealing with a traitor, even if I don¡¯t hold any particular loyalty myself.

    ¡°Yeah but like, he¡¯s trying to mend fences and restore the forest. He''s not doing anything bad.¡± Peter does not maintain eye contact with me while he explains.

    ¡°Ah¡± I say, now understanding. ¡°The humans are in the forest, and they care about it? When we passed through their territory they were gathering lumber just like the orcs. Maybe not in the same ecologically devastating way, I suppose.¡±

    ¡°It''s not the humans that care, it¡¯s the elves. They are just aligned with the humans, so they¡¯re also called humans. Like, the team. We¡¯re The Civilization, they are The Humans.¡± he explains

    ¡°That''s unnecessarily confusing, and also, like, racist in a way?¡± I squinted at Peter, brows thoroughly furrowed.

    ¡°Speciest¡± Peter corrects me. ¡°All of the playable species evolved from different things, or are so far separated on the family tree that you couldn¡¯t call them the same species. Like how homosapien and homoerectus are different species.¡±

    ¡°Wouldn''t that be genus, not species?¡± I wonder

    ¡°I¡¯m not sure. remember I¡¯m not an A+ student in science class.¡± he shrugs.

    ¡°You¡¯re more knowledgeable than you give yourself credit for.¡± I tell him, watching him smile at the compliment. ¡°So there¡¯s humans, dwarves, and elves on the human team. Then on our side, there¡¯s orcs and beastmen?¡±

    ¡°Humans, Dwarves, Elves, and Halflings.¡± he says, counting on his fingers.

    ¡°Halflings?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Legally distinct Hobbits.¡± he laughs. ¡°Like from Lord of The Rings.¡± That name rings a bell.

    ¡°That''s a movie right?¡± I ask, as Peter turns to me, aghast.

    ¡°Don¡¯t tell me you¡¯ve never watched them?¡± he exclaims.

    ¡°I think so.¡± I don''t know how to explain to him I barely remember what a movie is. I¡¯m lucky I understood what a video game was, back when my fellow N.P.C.s told me I¡¯m stuck in this one. I''m not sure if there''s a pattern to what I can recall, or if there''s a leak in the dam the Monitor built around my memories. We arrive at our destination before Peter can start on another topic.

    Golden Cat Outpost discovered. Experience gained.

    ¡°Welcome¡± A werewolf in guard¡¯s uniform says as we reach the front entrance to an archway entrance, made of two lush trees twisting together. ¡°We are honored to have an orc visit our humble outpost.¡± he bows to me. He only nods at peter.

    ¡°Thanks¡± I say, riding past him. I find the beastman to turn in the quest easily. The big gray question mark simplifies the search. He stands inside of a shelter, molded by trees like the archway, with a thick leaf canopy forming the green roof. In front of him is a table with a map and pieces depicting allies and adversaries. Clearly, this is a war room. A war with who, though?

    If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    ¡°Hail¡± Says the tiger-man. Weretiger?

    Beastmen leader. Level 30

    ¡°The leader of the beastmen isn''t self-aware?¡± I turn to Peter

    ¡°Nope. This early in the game, the developers felt it was too much for players to kill characters that seem alive. That changes later on.¡± Peter joins me in front of the leader.

    ¡°So we kill this guy and his son?¡± I ask, right in front of the aforementioned N.P.C.

    ¡°Yup. The Honorlord demands both of their heads.¡± Peter looks into the tiger-man¡¯s eyes, void of the spark that separates them from us. It''s like he¡¯s already dead, and he doesn''t know it yet.

    ¡°Investigate the rumors of a traitor in our midst. return to me with proof.¡± The leader says. The quest updates to reflect our new goal.

    Optional: interrogate beastmen in Golden Cat Outpost.

    Optional: collect documentation proving the traitor¡¯s guilt.

    ¡°Lead the way¡± I tell Peter, not really interested in hunting down the right N.P.C. or pile of paper. Peter moves to a nearby structure, clearly the leader¡¯s son¡¯s domicile. A pile of bark with writing on it sits obviously on a wooden desk, tucked into a dark corner. We walk up to it, collect the proof, and mosey back to the leader.

    ¡°My¡­ son.¡± The leader whispers. Despite his quiet tone, an orc must have heard him. He crosses the room, arms behind his back.

    ¡°Your son, and by extension, you, have betrayed us. As the Honorlord¡¯s third son, I declare our alliance broken, and your lives forfeit.¡± the orc intones, with a manner of speech unlike any other orc I¡¯ve heard. He sounds too¡­ proper.

    Wurkul, Third Son of Honorlord Mergigoth Dragonslayer. Level ??

    ¡°You,¡± He turns, addressing Peter and I. ¡°will carry out their sentence. Execution.¡± I look to Peter, he nods his head grimly. This is a non-optional quest. Damn it.

    Slay Beastmen leader and Beastman Traitor 0/1

    Protect Beastmen Leader and Beastman Traitor 0/1

    As the quest update appears, the text shifts and sputters, as if it is erroring out. The word slay is replaced by protect. ¡°What the heck?¡± Peter exclaims behind me. ¡°That¡¯s not how this quest goes.¡±

    ¡°What do we do?¡± I ask. The energy in the room shifts, the gathered N.P.C.s eye each other, us, and the orc. Without warning, a minotaur charges, grappling the orc. The orc begins to shout, but is cut off by another beastman wrapping himself around him.

    ¡°Flee!¡± The minotaur shouts. ¡°Into the Faelands!¡±. The beastman leader and his son, suddenly appearing at his side, bolt out of the war room. Peter and I share a look, then follow after them.

    ¡°What''s happening?¡± I ask, following the beastmen.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know! This isn''t how this is supposed to go. We kill them, then we invade the Faelands.¡± Peter says, jogging next to me. We keep pace behind the beastmen, down winding paths and through trees. We hear the roar of an orc behind us, and the rapid stomping of boots growing closer.

    ¡°Just up ahead!¡± The beastmen leader tells us as the orc bursts into sight. He¡¯s drenched in blood, massive axe in hand. He releases a battle cry, and charges straight for us. Before he catches us, we are led through a dungeon portal, barely escaping. The loading screen features a cute faerie, offering me a fruit. Behind her is a foggy forest, small glowing eyes barely visible deep inside. When we return to the game, Peter and I stand in a small clearing, completely surrounded by impenetrable fog.

    ¡°Hi!¡± In Between blinks, a faerie appears in front of my face, uncomfortably close. ¡°Can I have your name?¡± She smiles sweetly.

    Meadow Petalthorn. Level 30

    ¡°Uh¡­¡± I begin, but Peter waves her away.

    ¡°Don¡¯t, it¡¯s a trick. She takes your name and gives you a nasty debuff for the rest of the dungeon.¡± Peter glares at the little creature.

    ¡°You¡¯re no fun.¡± The faerie pouts. She snaps her fingers, disappearing in a puff of glitter, as the fog dissipates around us. Weeping willow trees are revealed, a sparse forest with shining dewdrops falling gently from the hanging branches, prey animals travel undisturbed from pond to pond, drinking deep the crystalline water.

    ¡°Wow.¡± I say, taking it in. Compared to the warzone of a world outside, this is a paradise.

    ¡°We¡¯re supposed to kill that fairie. Then all of the animals, after they turn into enchanted monsters. None of them are hostile.¡± Peter remarks, taking a step down the shimmering path of dewey grass.

    ¡°Did we get separated from the others?¡± I ask, looking for them. ¡°Did the orc follow us in?¡±

    ¡°Looks like it. This is the way to the boss. If the mobs aren''t going to fight us we might as well go where we¡¯re meant to.¡± He moves ahead, not waiting for me. We walk in silence, Peter guiding me through the dungeon as I take in the sights. A bird drops from a branch, gliding over the water just low enough to disturb the surface, but not enough to splash. If I didn''t need to find a way out of this game, I¡¯d stay here forever. ¡°We¡¯re here.¡±

    ¡°Welcome adventurers¡± a towering women greets us. Fairy wings gently sway behind her back, a crown of silver rests upon her head. Dark blue eyes match the stones set in the crown, contrasting her glazed porcelain skin. It shimmers like the surface of the water, a subtle rainbow of color. She catches my gaze, and winks at me. I feel heat rush to my face as I turn to Peter for guidance.

    Pandora, Queen of the Fae. Level ??

    ¡°Before the boss fight is a riddle. If we get enough questions right, it makes the fight super easy. if we don¡¯t get any right she¡¯ll stay level question mark question mark and one shot us.¡± Peter tells me, stepping into the expansive throne room I hadn''t noticed we were in, too distracted by the queen. ¡°What is your first question?¡±

    ¡°Before we get started, an explanation of the rules.¡± The queen spreads her hands in a welcoming gesture.

    ¡°Skip¡± Peter responds. The queen gives a look that if it could kill, he¡¯d be reduced to dust and blown away instantly. The queen moves her gaze from him, staring straight ahead. She closes her eyes, and after a pause, her forehead begins to glow from the inside, as if her skull has been replaced by a flashlight, shining through the thin layer of skin in front of it. The skin bubbles in a perfect circle, blisters popping and smoking. The smell is awful, and Peter takes a few careful steps back as the change happens.

    Bloody, liquified skin oozes from her forehead, a hole now exposing a familiar red light. Oh no. Without another word, the queen snaps her fingers, and Wurkul appears in front of us in a cloud of glitter that settles over his form and onto the floor. He swings in a wide arch before we can react, cleaving both Peter and I in half.

    You died.

    Peter has been slain.

    My heart sinks as my body slumps to the floor. It''s going to take forever to walk back here from the city. When I release, the loading screen is the same fae from the beginning of the dungeon. That¡¯s odd. Did the Monitor change my spawn point while it possessed the fae queen?

    ¡°Hold on.¡± Peter tells me as soon as we spawn at the dungeon entrance. His eyes go blank, he must be consulting the forums. I enjoy the scenery for what feels like half an hour, petting a deer and feeding it an apple. It is totally unafraid of me, bolting only when Peter jogs up behind me, spooking it. ¡°My mom says she doesn''t know what''s going on but we should keep going, if for no other reason than to submit a bug report.¡±

    ¡°What? Why does she want us to make a bug report?¡± I ask, standing up.

    ¡°She¡¯s one of the devs for Crossroads Online. I didn''t get the chance to tell you when I got ganked earlier. My dad¡¯s a lawyer for the company that makes the game.¡± He tells me, watching my jaw open wider and wider in shock.

    ¡°Your mom made this game?¡± I ask

    ¡°No, she¡¯s one of the developers, part of a whole team. This game is way too big for one person to make.¡± He tells me.

    ¡°I thought it was just the Monitor¡± I cross my arms.

    ¡°There¡¯s a team of monitors, too.¡± he shifts from one hoof to another.

    ¡°There¡¯s more than one of that robot jerk?¡± I feel the color drain from my face.

    ¡°Robot?¡± No, that''s a rumor. The monitors are a group of real people who keep an eye on the game, and make sure nobody is cheating.¡± He tells me. ¡°Among other things.¡± We stare at each other, neither of us saying anything. I don''t know what he¡¯s thinking, but I know if I say anything else I''m entering dangerous territory.

    ¡°Alright. lead the way¡± I follow Peter back to the palace, a large flower at the end of the path through the forest. The orc is gone, but the queen is still beaming her head-lamp gaze at us.

    ¡°What is your first question?¡± Peter repeats how he started this encounter the first time with slightly less impatience.

    ¡°Ready to listen, are we?¡± The queen smiles, the blood running down her face forms a toothy arrow with her mouth. ¡°The new rules are as follows: for every question you get correct, Shurkul will drop by one level.¡±

    ¡°What!¡± Peter exclaims. ¡°He¡¯s already higher than max level! Unless he¡¯s dropped below seventy it doesn''t matter. He¡¯ll kill us.¡± the queen raises an eyebrow, a strange look with her eyes closed.

    ¡°He¡¯d have to be level seventy two for us to have a chance, and we¡¯d have to get all three questions right.¡± Peter shakes his head. ¡°Or seventy one, but I doubt that we¡¯re that lucky.¡±

    ¡°Should we just skip the questions?¡± The queen raises her right hand, fingers pressed together, ready to snap.

    ¡°No.¡± Peter says curtly.

    ¡°What is the forgotten hero¡¯s name?¡± The queen raises three fingers, waiting.

    ¡°You¡± Peter answers.

    ¡°Very good.¡± The queen flashes a wicked grin, lowering one finger. Two to go.

    ¡°Lore questions?¡± I ask Peter, remembering he knows the whole story of this game.

    ¡°Yeah.¡± He nods. ¡°Next question?¡±

    ¡°When did humanity lay the foundation of their capital city?¡± The queen¡¯s face is unreadable. There¡¯s no indication that she¡¯s asking trick questions, you¡¯d have to know the real answer. Thankfully Peter does.

    ¡°They didn¡¯t. The orcs did. One hundred years before the humans discovered it.¡± Peter uses his hands while he¡¯s speaking, making a gesture like he¡¯s shooing away a pest.

    ¡°Right again.¡± The queen¡¯s grin widens, the corners of her mouth tear and bleed, adding two more lines to her bloodsoaked face. ¡°Last question. Who lives at 5060 Palm way, Irvine California?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not a riddle¡± I say, noticing Peter go ghost-white.

    ¡°I do.¡± he whispers, his hands limp at his sides. The queen does not give an affirmative, instead giggling, breaking into an exaggerated villain laugh. She continues cackling as she snaps her fingers, Shurkul appearing before us again.

    Wurkul, Second Son of Honorlord Mergigoth Dragonslayer. Level 69

    I don¡¯t have the chance to tell Peter he was right before the mad orc is on us, swinging wildly. I move to block the blow, wincing as the axe bites deep into my shoulder, knocking my health down by over half. Even in this armor, the boss has the advantage somehow.

    ¡°Run!¡± I tell Peter, retrieving my shield before the boss can send me back to the entrance. The shield thankfully absorbs much of the next blow, reducing the damage he deals to me greatly. That buys the time I need to cast my Distribute ability, preventing damage temporarily.

    With an unspoken command, Esquire hovers out of his sheath and behind Shurkul, I follow up with Telekinetic Taunt, forcing Shurkul¡¯s attention to Esquire. The orc trades blows with the blade, Esquire takes no damage, but deals very little in return. I use Illusory Clone to keep his attention away from me while I find Peter. He¡¯s curled up in a corner, with a thousand yard stare. I have to get very close to hear what he¡¯s saying. ¡°How does it know where I live?¡± he repeats like a mantra.

    ¡°Hey,¡± I say, resting a hand on his shoulder. ¡°It''s just a video game character, right?¡± I lie. ¡°A trickster fairy queen. Her whole deal is messing with your head, right?¡± Peter nods, looking up at me now. ¡°Let¡¯s wait here while Esquire deals with the boss, alright?¡±

    ¡°That''s it?¡± Peter asks. ¡°Your abilities amount to you hiding from danger while your weapon handles it?¡±

    ¡°I guess?¡± I respond, watching Esquire scratch at the orc, his health pool seemingly bottomless.

    ¡°That sucks.¡± Peter laughs, moving on, or at least distracted from the disturbing question on his mind. ¡°You should have picked warrior.¡±

    ¡°Hey!¡± I say, mock-insulted. ¡°They don¡¯t seem to be making a dent in that monster¡¯s life¡±

    ¡°Maybe there¡¯s a hidden mechanic to your abilities.¡± Peter scratches his patchy chin.

    ¡°How so?¡± I look at my abilities, expecting something to change. Nothing does.

    ¡°Think about it. A sword doesn¡¯t know how to wield a sword just because it is one. Maybe if you show it how to swing, it will deal more damage. Pretend you¡¯re the one fighting the boss from a distance?¡± Peter looks at me. ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°How¡¯d you come up with that?¡± I ask, puzzled but impressed.

    ¡°There¡¯s a movie where a guy teaches a robot boxer how to box by showing him. I forget the name. There¡¯s also a mech movie where the pilots have to act out the fight inside of their mech, not just pull levers and hit buttons. I think, maybe, your abilities could be more hands-on that how you¡¯re using them.¡± He smiles. I nod, giving him the same impressed look I imagine his father would.

    ¡°Good idea.¡± I step out from our hiding place, standing a short distance from the ongoing battle. ¡°Esquire!¡±

    Sir?

    ¡°Do what I do¡± I get into a sword fighting stance, at least how I picture one in my head. Feet apart, hands held one over the other in front. As the orc swings, I pantomime blocking his blow with the long edge of a blade, Esquire following my movements precisely, with no delay. I swing, knocking an imaginary axe away from my face and to the side, watching as my translucent purple clone holding Esquire sends the axe flying to its right and into the ground.

    We bring the sword down on his neck as the orc is distracted trying to pull his axe from the wood floor. He howls in pain, bringing the axe up and around to decapitate the clone. It passes through harmlessly, sending the orc wide and exposing his shoulder. We exploit the vulnerability, stabbing in and under his huge shoulder armor, piercing flesh.

    Another agonized howl passes his lips, as his left arm goes limp, dropping the axe. He stares up at the clone, and through it, at me. Without hesitation, we bring the edge down on his head.

    Wurkul, Third Son of Honorlord Mergigoth Dragonslayer slain! Experience gained.

    My vision floods with level up notifications. You¡¯ve reached level 36, 37, 38, 39, 40, 41, and¡­

    You¡¯ve reached level 42!

    Strength increased by 32%!

    Agility increased by 32%!

    Intelligence increased by 32%!

    Dual Wielding unlocked!

    Peter has reached level 33!

    The change is so significant I can feel my muscles grow and my mind expand. It''s an unnerving but welcome feeling. Beating a level sixty nine boss at level thirty five is worth a shit ton of experience! A quick peek at my stats shows one hundred eighty eighty percent strength, agility and intellect base. It¡¯s hard to quantify, but I do feel one hundred eighty six percent stronger than I did at level one. I¡¯m not a numbers guy so it doesn''t mean anything to me, except I could tear the head off of a shark with my hands. I could outrun a cheetah. I could outthink a¡­ really smart animal. like, really really smart.

 11 - Escape

    Peter joins me next to the boss¡¯s corpse, an expression of relief mixed with confusion on his face. ¡°Any good loot?¡± he asks. I signal for him to go ahead and do the honors, he leans over the body, one hand extended. We both get sixty gold, nothing else. ¡°That¡¯s a bit disappointing¡±

    ¡°More gold than I¡¯ve ever had.¡± I say, looking at my current total, seventy two. I probably have another dozen in crap I haven''t sold. While I''m thinking about how much more gold I need, I check the countdown. Remaining game time: 28 days, 3 hours. I imagine for the average player I''m making record time, but it doesn''t feel fast enough. I don¡¯t have enough gold to repair my armor, nevermind pay for a month of game time. After dying again to this asshole currently on the floor, it¡¯s probably even worse.

    Our attention is seized by a quiet sobbing across the room. The queen is on her knees, holding her face. Faeries flutter around her, trying to lend confort where they cannot assist. I catch a glimpse of her face, the light has disappeared, leaving a ragged hole exposing her skull. She has a joker smile, contrasting her miserable frown.

    ¡°We should go¡± I tell Peter. he agrees, and we move to depart.

    ¡°You¡¯ve saved us.¡± The beastmen leader and his son stand in our way, at the entryway of the palace. ¡°We¡¯ll be safe in the Faelands until maybe someday, the Honorlord will forget us and we will be safe to leave.¡±

    Root of all Evil complete! Experience gained.

    ¡°Now what?¡± I ask Peter. These nameless N.P.C.s are of no help. His speech seems disjointed, like each word was cut from a different sentence and put together. An auditory ransom note.

    ¡°If the story isn¡¯t completely derailed, we¡¯ll get a new quest to visit the Cyclops.¡± As he says it, Visit the Cyclops pops up in my quests. ¡°That¡¯s not even the right title of the quest! Something is seriously wrong.¡± he shakes his head, we walk around the beastmen, and out of the dungeon. I¡¯ll miss this beautiful enchanted forest, our destination to the south probably doesn''t compare.

    ¡°Is your bedtime soon?¡± I ask, earning an annoyed look from Peter. We mount up and get going.

    ¡°Don¡¯t call it that man, you make it sound like I''m five. It''s a curfew. And it¡¯s in an hour, thank you.¡± he mock-scowls at my smile.

    ¡°Alright. Can I ask you a question?¡± We both mount up, heading south towards the quest.

    ¡°As long as I can ask you one¡± he waits for me to go first.

    ¡°Is your mom really a developer of this game?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Yeah, I know it¡¯s giving my uncle works at nintendo, but it¡¯s the truth. My dad really is a lawyer for the company, too. They don¡¯t sit together at the office.¡± Peter answers.

    ¡°Everything seems normal there? There''s nothing weird about their job?¡± I watch as he starts to avoid my gaze.

    ¡°You know¡­ sometimes they come home really late. But that''s normal for developers and lawyers. And sometimes when I ask about their jobs, or coworkers, they don¡¯t give me straight answers. Like, I asked who made the little bear you can wear on your head, Epep. She wouldn''t tell me, like it was some big secret.¡± Peter tells me, only looking at me half way through.

    ¡°The rumor about the robot,¡± I start, stopping my question when I see a red light in the distant treeline, floating along and keeping pace with us.

    ¡°There was a lay off, and one of the employees posted online that everyone was being replaced by A.I. The company denied it, but a lot of things started happening in the game that didn¡¯t make sense otherwise. Then things went back to normal and everybody forgot about the whole thing. Most people, anyway. There¡¯s still a few conspiracy theorists who think the A.I. never went away.¡± Peter tells me, I watch the light behind his head fade away.

    ¡°What was your question?¡± I ask, eager to steer away from the current topic. Peter hesitates, looking over at me, then away, then at me again. He clears his throat.

    ¡°I saw a forum post that mentions you by name. That guy that you said reported you went on a rampage, trying to get you banned for cheating. Nothing really came of it, but I can''t get the question out of my mind, especially after what just happened.¡± He looks very deliberately into my eyes. ¡°Are you hacking?¡± he finally asks.

    ¡°No.¡± I answer. He waits in silence for further explanation. ¡°I¡¯m not your typical player, but I¡¯m not hacking.¡± We ride for a few seconds without speaking. ¡°I can¡¯t talk about it.¡±

    ¡°Did you sign an N.D.A.?¡±

    ¡°Let¡¯s go with that.¡± We focus on the path ahead. We eventually leave the dense forest, arriving at a clearing between two mountains in a range. We pass through, entering a jungle of ferns.

    Kangegaban Wild discover! Experience gained.

    I can hear the Jurassic Park theme blaring in my imagination as a long necked dinosaur appears out of nowhere, crossing our path with enormous, elephantine footsteps. What¡¯s Jurassic Park? ¡°Dinosaurs huh? I thought this was a fantasy game¡±

    ¡°Yeah, but dinosaurs are awesome.¡± Peter smiles, watching the huge beast mosey on by. ¡°Ready for a chase sequence?¡±

    I almost manage to say ¡°What?¡± before the Tyrannosaurus roar deafens me. From behind, the prehistoric halitosis monster eyes us hungrily. Peter whoops as our mounts take off in a mad rush to escape.

    Eyes forward, we jump over roadblocks, and move side to side to avoid other dinosaurs. Suddenly on foot, we squeeze one after another between two rocks without enough room for the T-rex to continue the chase. It claws and chomps at the gap, still desperate to pursue us. I look over at Peter, but in his place is a little girl, seated next to me in a miniature jeep.

    ~

    ¡°Do we have more quarters?¡± Millie asks. Her pointy birthday hat rests on the dashboard of the dinosaur escape arcade machine.

    ¡°All out kiddo.¡± I give her a sympathetic look. Nobody wants the party to be over. ¡°You know what time it is though?¡±

    ¡°Time for cake?¡± her eyes light up.

    ¡°That¡¯s right. Let¡¯s go find mom.¡± we get up, walking around the back of the machine, out of the garage filled with old arcade games, into the house proper. My wife Trinee finishes lighting the ninth candle just as we walk into the kitchen. She starts singing the happy birthday song, I join in, followed by our mutual friend, Frankie. Millie blows out her candles, Trinee cuts everyone a slice, and we dig in.

    ¡°Thanks again for letting us have the place to ourselves, Frank.¡± I say

    ¡°No problemo friendo.¡± She says in her funny way of speaking. ¡°Anything for Millie.¡± We watch her and my wife enjoy their slices of cake, Trinee scoops up frosting with her finger and boops Millie on her nose, leaving a thick glob behind. Millie shouts playfully, we all laugh as she tries to return the favor, giving up on her mother, and chasing me around with a handful of frosting instead.

    ~

    ¡°Hey, what¡¯s wrong?¡± Peter asks me. I wipe a tear from my eye, looking away and sniffing back more tears.

    ¡°Nothing. Hey, next time you log out, could you look up Franklin Macdonald for me?¡± I ask, managing to get myself together.

    ¡°Can I ask why?¡± Peter raises an eyebrow.

    ¡°Old friend of mine. I can¡¯t seem to connect to the internet outside of the game.¡± I tell him.

    ¡°Even when you exit game?¡± He asks.

    ¡°Yeah¡± I lie, in a way. Not being able to exit the game seems even less plausible than having a bad internet connection while playing an online-only game. ¡°Let''s get going¡± I head further into the ferns, no discernable path ahead of us but a map marker towards the south-east. ¡°You ever seen Jurassic Park?¡±

    ¡°Yeah of course I have. The original is far superior to any of the sequels. Especially the recent ones.¡± Peter emphasizes his point with widening eyes.

    ¡°They made a new one recently?¡± I ask, memories of movie night with my girls returning to me.

    ¡°Like a few months ago recently. They go back to the island for the millionth time, except this time, it¡¯s the upside-down version. The t-rex has a split mouth like the demogorgon. It¡¯s one of the stupidest things I¡¯ve ever seen.¡± Peter laughs, making me laugh, even though I only understand half of what he¡¯s saying.

    ¡°What¡¯s your favorite dinosaur?¡± I ask him after we recover from a laughing fit.

    ¡°Galenemous.¡± he says, receiving a raised eyebrow from me.

    ¡°Isn¡¯t that the raptor that looks like it was put in a taffy stretcher?¡± I smile as he chokes, before falling into another laughing fit. ¡°Mines the spinosaurus.¡±

    ¡°Ooh that¡¯s a good one.¡± he says, suddenly distracted. ¡°Looks like it¡¯s time to call it a night.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll wait for you before I continue the quest. Before you go, though. How can I make five hundred thousand gold at this level?¡± I watch his eyes almost fall out of his head

    ¡°Huh.¡± he strokes his chin. ¡°Well, you could farm mats. Nobody bothers with old, low-level material, so it¡¯s sold at a premium to people trying to level their crafting from scratch. If you go with mining, you can use the materials for blacksmithing, lapidary, and stonemasonry.¡±

    ¡°How do I start?¡± I ask

    ¡°Go back to Masstaoir and ask a guard where you can find the mining trainer, and buy a mining pick off of them. Then go out into the world and find nodes, and get swinging.¡± he stares into space again. ¡°Ok, I really have to go now. See ya!¡± he disappears. I open my map and look at how far from the city I am, and remember the hot coal Bert gave me. I open my inventory and focus on using it. After a long cast, my vision changes to the leader-feature loading screen, and after a few moments, I''m in the Boar Tusk inn, staring at Bert.

    ¡°Hey.¡± I say, watching Bert clean a wooden mug with a ratty cloth. ¡°I know you can¡¯t talk back right now, so I¡¯ll just talk at you.¡± Bert nods. ¡°So, something funny happened with the last quest I did. I have a feeling that I''m on the right track for figuring out our situation. I¡¯m going to learn mining and try to scrounge up enough gold to pay for game time.¡± Bert half-smiles at me, nodding at the door. Time for me to go. I walk out the entrance, giving Toebark a friendly wave on the way out. Finding the nearest guard, I ask for directions, and without a word, a marker pops up on my map.

    I follow the marker to a professional district of the city I haven''t visited yet. It¡¯s set up like a market, with a forge, tanner, and other crafting stations behind the stalls. I wonder if taming or mount-rearing would be more lucrative than mining, but I trust Peter¡¯s judgement, and find my way to the mining booth. Unrefined ores are piled loosely on a table, next to a mining pick. The N.P.C. behind them isn''t named, so I don¡¯t bother with pleasantries. Straight to business.

    Mining learned!

    Mining Pick added to inventory.

    The profession cost ten silver to learn, and the pick was one silver. Not too terrible. I sling the pick over my shoulder, and march off to the nearest city exit, whistling all the way. The first node I find is copper, a hunk of rock with green oxidized metal poking out of it. I swing my pickaxe, and despite my immense strength, only get one piece, not making a huge dent into the node.

    Copper Ore added to inventory.

    Mining skill increased to 2.

    Earl says: How much is copper ore worth?

    Incredibro says: 1g

    Earl says: One gold each?

    Incredibro says: ye

    The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    That¡¯s insane, but I would still need hundreds of thousands of pieces to make enough money.

    Earl says: Any minerals that are low level and worth a lot?

    Kinkajou says: Quartz is like 10g you can find it in low-level nodes.

    Earl says: Thanks guys you¡¯ve been really helpful

    Kinkajou says: don¡¯t praise me ill cum

    Incredibro says: lol

    While I¡¯m chatting, I finish off the first node and find another. Wherever there¡¯s a hill, there¡¯s a node. I wonder if any dedicated mines, or just caves, are nearby.

    Mining skill increased to 4.

    Copper Ore added to inventory.

    Mining skill increased to 5.

    Copper Ore added to inventory.

    Mining skill increased to 6.

    Copper Ore added to inventory.

    Moving on. I find the next hill, and inevitably, the next node. While I¡¯m mining, another player shows up, riding a huge, armored komodo dragon. ¡°Hey.¡± I say, turning to face them.

    Highroad, First of His Name. Level 90 Priest

    ¡°Sorry, do you have dibs on this copper or something?¡± I ask, waiting for any response. I notice under their cowl, their eyes are blank. They must surfing the web while still in the game. It worries me, but if they won¡¯t talk to me, there¡¯s nothing for me to do.

    Mining skill increased to 7.

    Copper Ore added to inventory.

    Mining skill increased to 8.

    Copper Ore added to inventory.

    Mining skill increased to 9.

    Copper Ore added to inventory.

    Quartz added to inventory.

    ¡°Sweet!¡± I say aloud. I peek behind me, seeing the player still standing there, unmoving. His Komodo dragon flicks its tongue out. ¡°Ok see you around I guess¡± I get on my warg and start riding to the next hill in sight, the player following behind. The way they are following me, in a very mechanical manner, gives me an idea. I ride very close to a tree, and successfully peel them off. There must be an automatic follow setting, so they could keep doing whatever they are doing outside of the game without losing me.

    I find another handful of nodes before Highroad shows up again. I roll my eyes, focusing on my work instead.

    Mining skill increased to 20.

    Copper Ore added to inventory.

    Marble added to inventory.

    I move on, noticing a tin node that I finally have the requisite skill to mine.

    Mining skill increased to 21.

    Tin Ore added to inventory.

    Granite added to inventory.

    ¡°What are you using to hack the game?¡± Highroad asks from behind me.

    ¡°I¡¯m not hacking.¡± I answer, continuing to mine. The impacts make it hard to hear what he¡¯s saying.

    ¡°You¡¯re wearing max level armor at forty two. There¡¯s no bug that would let you do that, we checked.¡± He dismounts, walking into my personal space.

    ¡°We?¡± I ask, stopping to face him.

    ¡°My guild and everyone on the forums who¡¯s paying attention. We¡¯re not going to let you get away with it.¡± He tells me, arms crossed.

    ¡°Oh yeah? What are you going to do about it?¡± As I finish speaking, four plays surround us. They dismount and begin mining the tin node, pulling all of the resources from it before I get the chance. ¡°Very mature.¡± I mount up and move on, finding another node nearby. Instantly, the four players are on top of it, wiping it out. I try one more time before throwing my hands up, and using my Hertston to go back to the city. I¡¯ll just sell what I¡¯ve gathered and mine more another time.

    I ask a guard for directions to the auction house, passing a dancing female cyclops on top of the mailbox outside. If physics kicked in, she would crush it beneath her. Even without any armor on. She uses an emote to wink at me as I pass, but her character just blinks. I approach the auctioneer, stopping short when I notice Highroad and his posse already inside. I walk through him, ignoring the goosebumps of seeing through his skull, and open the auction window.

    I find copper ore on the market and go slack-jawed. ¡°One copper?¡± I ask.

    ¡°We flooded the market.¡± Highroad tells me, a smug smile on his face. ¡°You won¡¯t be making any money off of the mats you hacked to get.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not hacking!¡± I shout at him. He just keeps smiling at me, satisfied that he¡¯s put a stop to my nefarious plans of earning a whopping two hundred gold from ore. Whatever.

    Earl says: Do any dungeons have a rare drop worth selling?

    Highroad says: Hacker

    Bubbleguts says: hacker

    Kimono says: hacker

    Junktrunk says: hacker

    Nohead says: hacker

    Highroad says: Hacker

    Bubbleguts says: hacker

    Kimono says: hacker

    Junktrunk says: hacker

    Nohead says: hacker

    The five of them spam chat until my message is lost, so quickly that no one would have read it before it was gone. Shit. Can I report these assholes for harassment or something?

    Beelzehbuhb says: The Yeti mount will net you a cool mil

    A private message, that won¡¯t get lost in the spam because it¡¯s in its own window. They must have seen my first message before it got washed away.

    Earl says: Where does it drop from?

    Beelzehbuhb says: the avalanche dungeon. It¡¯s north east of here on the tallest mountain. It¡¯s a level 80 dungeon meant for 10 players, though. You¡¯d have to roll better than everyone else, and that¡¯s if it drops at all.

    Earl says: Thanks for the information.

    Beelzehbuhb says: NP

    Beelzehbuhb added to friends list.

    I walk out through Highroad, mounting up and heading for the northern exit to the city.

    ¡°Where do you think you¡¯re going?¡± Highroad shouts from behind me. Like he can stop me. I spot his komodo dragon mount following me, but none of his gang seem to be with him this time. I don¡¯t try to lose him, I just exit the city and start the search for the yeti dungeon that will hopefully solve all of my problems. Highroad can¡¯t follow me inside, and with luck, I¡¯ll get the money I need all at once.

    ¡°???? ??¡± An elf says from his elk mount next to me. Four human-aligned players surround me, with Highroad.

    ¡°Come on dude just leave me alone¡± I groan.

    ¡°Duel him, and if you win, we¡¯ll leave you alone.¡± Highroad proposes to me.

    ¡°Fine.¡± I say.

    Leaflicker has challenged you to a duel. [Aceept] [Decline]

    I choose to accept. A ten second countdown begins. Between the countdown ending, and me swinging Esquire at the elf, something happens that makes my blood run cold.

    Leaflicker has canceled the duel.

    You have attacked Leaflicker. Player versus player has been engaged. Do not attack another player for five minutes to disengage player versus player.

    ¡°??? ???!¡± One of the now red-named players shouts.

    Binding Roots resisted.

    Stunning Blow resisted.

    Melee attack blocked.

    Nature¡¯s Wrath reflected.

    Leaflicker slain. Rank: General. 100 elf bones collected.

    ¡°?????? ??????!¡± The dwarf of the group shouts, stopping after the elf collapses to the ground. While they¡¯re busy trying to figure out what to do next, I find the setting to turn off notifications for player versus player combat. So many spells and attacks clog up my chat window. I think I¡¯ll know if something successfully hits me.

    ¡°Just keep going.¡± Highroad tells them, one of his eyes clouded over. I roll my eyes at him, and march in the direction I was headed before this nonsense started. The three enemy players, and the elf, once he respawns, continue taking shots at me for the entire five minutes. After the time expires, their names go yellow, and they can no longer attack me first. ¡°That¡¯s plenty, let¡¯s go¡± Highroad says, using his Hertston. The other players follow his lead, disappearing one after another. Finally, I mount up and get going at a decent pace again.

    The Roaring Peaks discovered! Experience gained.

    The decimated forest of Clearcut transitions into living forest, much like every other direction out of Masstaoir, to the northeast the terrain eventually transitions to a snowy mountainside. I Can¡¯t spot the dungeon entrance through the snowdrift near the top, so I keep climbing the almost vertical incline on my warg. We slip a few times, losing progress, reaching the top of the mountain through trial-and-error pathfinding.

    There, on the tippy top of the mountain, is a flat summit with the dungeon entrance. We run through, my vision changing to a loading screen that looks heavily inspired by the bigfoot photo. A white-furred, ape-like creature looks over its shoulder at me in a whiteout. My sight returns, and I''m immediately buffeted by an intense winter wind.

    Bitter Cold

    1% damage to health every second. 1% loss to speed every second.

    ¡°Shit¡± I say, regretting opening my mouth immediately, as the biting cold hurts my exposed teeth. My tusks are a huge weak point in these conditions. I step back out of the dungeon to assess my situation. I don¡¯t have any abilities or equipment to deal with the cold. Even with my ridiculous equipment, the chill blows through me like my plate armor is alternatively used for shredding cheese. I open my talent tree, hoping the seven unspent points will do something to improve my situation. I fully invest the required five points into Sword Dance, the buff popping up under my health bar. I had been avoiding the ten percent increase to allies damage assuming I didn''t count as an ally. That might say something about my mental health but let¡¯s move on.

    The second and third tier of the ability increases its range, now covering a large enough area to affect everyone in my hypothetical group, as long as they are all in the same zip code. With the ability maxed out four new choices appear on the talent tree.

    Split Sword - Long cooldown - Short duration - Command your weapons to break apart into ten pieces, each piece dealing 10% damage. The pieces can be commanded as a swarm that ignores 10% of the target''s Block, Parry, Deflect, And Dodge.

    Thunder God - Long cooldown - Short duration - Channel Electricity through your body, temporarily Gaining the spells Lightning Bolt, Lightning Strike, and Thunder Clap. Your weapons deal additional electric damage.

    <ul>

    <li>Lightning Bolt - Shoot electricity from your palm</li>

    </ul>

    <ul>

    <li>Lighting Strike - Call lighting down on your target</li>

    </ul>

    <ul>

    <li>Thunder Clap - Strike the ground, causing Lightning Strikes on all enemies within melee range.</li>

    </ul>

    Circular Saw - Medium cooldown - Short duration - Your weapons spin at your side, protecting you from attacks and spells. Command them to attack your target with springing movement, or hold in place. Your weapons deal additional bleeding damage.

    Wall of Swords - Long Cooldown - Short Duration - Summon an immovable barrier that deals damage to enemies that enter the area of effect.

    Would Split Sword hurt you?

    No, sir. Even if it did, I would bear the pain for you, master!

    ¡°Alright settle down.¡± I reconsider my options, dealing with the weather as the deciding factor. If electricity is coursing through my veins, would it keep me warm? Could I use Esquire spinning next to me like an umbrella? Split Sword wouldn¡¯t be of any help, and Wall of Swords, my specilization¡¯s namesake, sounds intriguing, but doesn''t address the immediate issue in front of me. I put one point into Thunder God, and one into Circular Saw.

    I re-enter the dungeon, shivering as the cold surrounds me again. I use my Thunder God spell, raising Esquire to the sky and summoning a lighting bolt into it. The hair on my everything stands up, little arcs of electricity jumping from follicle to follicle. A new action bar appears on my screen with the three temporary spells on it. I am warmer, but the damage I''m taking hasn''t been negated. I push forward into the blizzard, trudging through deep snow. Just before my ability times out, I find cover. The cold becomes tolerable, and I stop taking damage from it. Thunder God¡¯s effect ends soon after.

    My health bar returns to full long before my Thunder God ability comes off cooldown. I use Circular Saw, stepping out from cover as Esquire sparks off of the rocky outcropping, emitting the same loud sound as the lumbermill we spent time in. We step into the path of the wind, I say a silent thanks as I take no damage, the oppressive precipitation pinging off of Esquire as they spin too fast for a single flake to pass through. This ability is shorter lived than the other, so I haul ass through the snow, searching for the next shelter.

    What I find is a large hideaway under a rock, a campfire warm and inviting in the middle, surrounded by uninviting giants. They turn to face me, blue skin wrinkling as they grimace at me, clearly enraged. A buff appears on their health bars, using the same icon as my Thunder God ability.

    Frost Giant. Level 80

    Rebuke the Thunder God - Frost Giants deal double damage to targets with the Thunder God spell.

    ¡°Come on, that''s cheating!¡± I complain as they charge me. I use the Spring-action attack to send Esquire spinning into one of them, sawing the giant roughly in half. Blood sprays everywhere, putting out the fire and plunging us into darkness. Between the roaring storm around us and the rock wall above us, no sunlight pierces through. Esquire spins loudly at my side, as we both anxiously wait to be attacked. One of the giants punches me in the opposite shoulder that Esquire isn¡¯t covering, I curse myself for forgetting to equip my shield. I turn one hundred eighty degrees, putting Esquire between myself and the giant. The mob doesn¡¯t hesitate to launch another strike, even as his hand passes through a whirring helicopter blade, shearing off flesh and bone an inch at a time. Unconscious or dead, the giant falls head first, blending the rest of its upper torso. I gag, trying to keep the bile down as the third and final giant lurks somewhere in the dark.

    As Circular Saw¡¯s duration expires, Esquire comes to a sudden stop. Without the sound of spinning metal masking it, I can hear the crunch of the giant¡¯s footsteps circling me. I summon the Illusory Clone to wield Esquire, the gentle purple glow illuminating a small space around us. I can¡¯t target the giant to route my taunt through the clone and lure them into the light, so we wait for the giant to make the first move. Eventually, they do, swinging a club down through the clone and smacking hard on the icy floor. The clone and I move as one, cleanly severing the giant¡¯s arms, followed by its head.

    ¡°Any chance you can turn up the brightness?¡± I ask my clone, it faces me when a blank stare.

    No, sir.

    Hmm. Well, we¡¯re not going to make any progress like this. The storm beyond the shelter has kicked up so fiercely that the path forward is completely obscured. Thunder God has come off cooldown, so I use it, and the ability granted to me with it, Thunder Bolt, to send electricity into the extinguished fire. The force of the blast sends cinders and ash flying, but reignites the logs, as I''d hoped. I retrieve a burning branch, using it as a torch.

    ¡°This probably won¡¯t stay lit in the high winds.¡± I watch the flame dance on the tip, thinking hard.

    Earl says: How do you get through the snowstorm in the yeti dungeon?

    Beelzehbuhb says: your group should have brought a player that can use a see in the dark ability, or a bubble. both ideally.

    Earl says: What if you didn¡¯t bring either of those?

    Beelzehbuhb says: Grit your teeth, clench your cheeks, and run through the knee-deep snow as fast as you can.

    Damn. Well, here goes nothing. With Thunder God on its last seconds of duration, I use Circular Saw again, Pushing forward. After tripping over myself in the deep snow, I have the idea to use Esquire as a spinning snow plow, making the path forward easier, but exposing me to the storm peppering my side. We push, running and slipping interchangeably, before the ability runs out of time. I¡¯m stuck both fighting the snow in the air and on the ground, putting all of the inhuman strength I have into every step. The debuff eating away at my health and speed has me down to half before Circular Saw is ready, and like a second wind, we speed forward with renewed vigor.

    I fall on my face as we enter the eye of the storm, a dead-quiet safe area. The eerie silence is broken by a terrifying roar, I look up to see a great white beast bounding forward, reaching me in seconds.

    The Yeti of Mount J?tunheim. level ??

    It doesn''t give me time to recover my health or speed before it¡¯s on top of me, pounding my lifeless body into the snow.

    You died.

    <hr>

    HACKER SLAUGHTERS MAX LEVEL PLAYERS AT 42??!?

    Posted to Youtube 03/09/35 08:00 AM by user xHighroadx3

    3000 views

    Beanbag4202: He¡¯s definitely hacking. Must be a liberal, doesn''t want to work.

    Hump7400032: Click here to see my butthole! >>>Notavirus.com/trojan<<<

    Boibot5009: Whats being a liberal have to do with it

    Cursex666: I¡¯m going to report him!

    <hr>

 12 - A Sword Fit for a King

    I swear, cursing the yeti, the snow, the wind, the mountain, and the floor my face is squished against. I stand, brushing loose snow off myself, as the packed-on ice slowly starts to melt in the warmer climate of Masstaoir. After dragging it around for what feels like days, I use the vendor that replaced me in the shop to sell off the trash loot from the trash dungeon, and everything else without any use. It nets me thirty two gold. Not even close to my goal. Twenty six days, sixteen hours until whatever running out of game time means. I need to consider my options.

    I could push forward through the quests, reaching max level and gaining access to additional means of earning gold. I¡¯d have to leave Peter in the dust, so it¡¯s not ideal. I could go run the trash heap over and over, trying for the pet drop, but the faster I do it, the closer I get to pissing off the Monitor. So that¡¯s not ideal either. If I had enough weapons to take full advantage of my spells, would I be able to handle impossible threats like the yeti, or the Honorlord and his shitty kids? I remember Peter mentioning one of my options to get another weapon like Esquire was blacksmithing, and my mining skill can be used to gather the resources needed.

    With that in mind, I make my way to the profession market. A few players point and speak to each other in hushed whispers as I pass. Ignoring them, the blacksmithing trainer greets me in the typical orc way, a canned line about honor and violence, before showing me the training menu. It¡¯s far more extensive than the mining one, listing off tons of different things I could make, weapons or armor, and components for other professions. All of the stuff I can make at my level of skill is useless to me, so I scroll through the menu until I find a named weapon.

    Thunderhead, Hammer of the Thunder God. - Epic One-handed Hammer - Unique Equip - Requires level 60 - Low Strength - Low Blunt Damage

    Sentient: This weapon has a consciousness. It can operate and think independently.

    Floating: This weapon has the ability to hover close to the ground.

    Spells that cause electric damage can be cast using Thunderhead as the origin point.

    I¡¯m starting to sense a theme here. The materials required are ten Bone Steel Ingots, Eel Leather, and a Dormant Electricity. The recipe also lists an enchanter with equivalent skill level and recipe as a requirement. I find Bone Steel Ingot a few recipes down the list, their required materials are ten bones and ten iron bars each. Most of that seems doable, I just need to figure out where to get Dormant Electricity, Eel Leather, and a willing enchanter.

    Earl says: Where do I get Dormant Electricity?

    Googoo says: lightning and thunder elementals

    Kickinthepants says: Can¡¯t you just hack some?

    Rickroll says: what do you mean?

    Kickinthepants says: that guys a hacker, i saw it on youtube

    Youtube? Was Highroad recording his friends jump me? That must have been what his one eye going hazy was about. I wish I could just tell them the truth and get everyone off of my back.

    Rickroll says: are you really a hacker?

    Earl says: No.

    Rickroll says: because ive always wanted this one mount but the drop rate is insane. could you like hack the game and add it to my collection?

    Earl says: No.

    Rickroll says: asshole im reporting you

    Player Rickroll Blocked.

    The turd messaged me privately with his request. I need to keep to myself and avoid talking in chat until this blows over. I try to make a discreet exit out of the city, stopping dead when new system messages roll in.

    Esquire, Blade of the King removed from inventory.

    Mirood, Shield of the Mage-Killer removed from inventory.

    Helm of the Vanquished Hero removed from inventory.

    Shoulders of the Vanquished Hero removed from inventory.

    Breastplate of the Vanquished Hero removed from inventory.

    Leggings of the Vanquished Hero removed from inventory.

    Boots of the Forgotten Path removed from inventory.

    Necklace of Broken Hearts removed from inventory.

    Knight¡¯s Lost Ring removed from inventory.

    Impenetrable Cloak removed from inventory.

    99 Ultimate Health Potions removed from inventory.

    99 Well-Done Steaks removed from inventory.

    You receive 795 gold, 98 silver.

    What the actual fuck?

    Thunderspank says: Hey everybody I¡¯m back!

    Yoodleheyhewho says: Thunderspank! Where¡¯d you go?

    Thunderspank says: my account go hacked! they sold all of my stuff and changed my password!

    Kickinthepants says: did earl do it?

    Thunderspank says: whos that?

    Kickinthepants says: this guy that¡¯s been running around in max level gear at level 42. was it your armor?

    Thunderspank says: well shit couldve been.

    The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

    The original owner of the armor has returned, and his equipment went back to his inventory. I fall to my knees, completely naked in the middle of the street. For the next several hours, I block player after player, messaging me harassment, and finding me in the city to do rude emotes nearby. I try to run and hide, but the crowd follows me wherever I go.

    Funkymonkey says: Hey get back here hacker!

    Player Funkymonkey blocked.

    I think of running to the nearest dungeon, the Elf Fortress, leading the crowd of players on a chase outside of the city. Thunderspank, the huge minotaur, rides a bird seemingly made of dark clouds, shooting sparks of electricity as it glides along the ground. He was among the first players I muted, so I can only guess the profanities he¡¯s hurling at me as his lips move wordlessly. Several Human players try to egg me on to attack them, running ahead of me and darting from left to right.

    Nearly there, I start to get attacked by red-named mobs that are hostile on approach. Elves pepper me with arrows, biting into flesh and knocking off small bits of health, now that I''m unarmored. Thankfully I¡¯m more than double their level, and they can¡¯t kill me before their programming makes them give up and turn back. After half an hour of taunting from an army of angry players, I make it to the dungeon entrance. I sigh in relief after the exaggerated elf loading screen leaves my vision. I sit on the dungeon floor, cold moss gently caressing my buttoks.

    ¡°What the fuck am I supposed to do now?¡± I cry, looking at the empty slots on my character where armor should be. I sold everything I ever had, including the pants I was born with. The only thing left is ore, rocks, and crystals that I can¡¯t fashion into armor without a forge and anvil.

    Elves stand in the distance, unbothered by my presence. The effect this situation has on me bubbles over from sadness to rage, I stand, and charge the elves.

    At first I just throw punches. The trio of elves land sword blows and arrows into my herculean flesh, I either survive the blow or dodge it entirely. Being one hundred eighty eight percent stronger than I was at level one makes my health pool enormous compared to theirs, my agility makes me faster and more able to dodge, and my intellect makes seeing what¡¯s coming that much easier. I pulverize the first elf in a few moments, even my unarmed strikes dealing lethal damage eventually. The second and the third elf fall the same way.

    I remember the first time I was here, unable to keep up with my group, and letting Esquire do all of the work for me. A pang of loss hits me, I¡¯ll probably never talk to Esquire again. He was annoyingly proper, like a fancy butler, but he was my constant companion since my early days of adventure. The early days being Wednesday this week. God, it really has only been two days, hasn''t it? As I stand there, blood dripping from my fists, a pack of elves patrolling the fortress spot me, and start raining spells and arrows down on me.

    The first group didn¡¯t have anything to loot besides silver and copper coins, I¡¯m relieved I don¡¯t have to find a storage solution using my body. The second group has an embarrassingly bad short sword, and an elegant looking but nearly useless helmet.

    Gormer Elf Shortsword - Common One-handed Sword - Minimum Slash Damage

    Gormer Elf Helm - Common Helm - Minimum Armor

    I equip both. My ability to deal damage dramatically increases, and my ability to look like a lunatic wearing only a helmet increases even more dramatically. I move on to the next group, and soon find myself in front of the treant boss, with barely more than a knife to carve my name into his leg. Earl <3 Trinne 4ever.

    Compared to the instant execution I used to perform on this boss, killing him takes excruciatingly long. It doesn''t even have any spells or fun abilities to mix things up. We just wail on each other until one of us falls over.

    You loot Branch of Ashplinter

    Branch of Ashplinter - Rare Two-handed Staff - Requires level 15 - Minimum Intellect - Minimum Blunt Damage

    I chuckle, looking at the staff. This pathetic stick is such a downgrade from what I had, yet such an improvement over what I have now. I equip it, admiring the heft in my hands. I move along, using my new staff to give elves concussions and internal bleeding on par with American football. American Football? Where did that come from? Totally meaningless thought. I arrive at the final boss, still wearing my birthday suit, plus helmet. I feel even more naked this way, like wearing only socks to bed. Before I get into aggro range, I start testing my abilities one by one.

    Recall Weapon - No cooldown - Command your weapon to return to your hand. Any enemies between you take damage, increasing with the distance your weapon has travelled.

    Summon Weapon - Short cooldown - Conjure your weapon into your hand.

    Telekinetic Taunt - Short cooldown -Short duration - Antagonize your target. It temporarily prioritizes attacking you regardless of threat generated by damage from other sources.

    <ul>

    <li>2nd tier: Optionally Project your taunt through your weapon. </li>

    </ul>

    <ul>

    <li>3rd tier: Optionally taunt all nearby enemies within melee range. - Medium cooldown</li>

    </ul>

    Intervention - Medium cooldown - Command your weapon to intercept a melee attack made against an ally.

    <ul>

    <li>2nd tier: optionally intercept a spell or ranged attack.</li>

    </ul>

    <ul>

    <li>3rd tier: optionally deflect an attack - Long cooldown</li>

    </ul>

    Distribute - Long cooldown - Very short duration - Half of damage dealt to you is redirected to your weapon for a short time.

    <ul>

    <li>2nd tier: increased duration</li>

    </ul>

    <ul>

    <li>3rd tier: increased damage reduction to all damage</li>

    </ul>

    Tornado Edge - Long cooldown - Short duration - Command your weapon to spin in a stationary location. it damages all enemies within melee range for a short time.

    <ul>

    <li>Tier 2: Optionally move after placed </li>

    </ul>

    <ul>

    <li>Tier 3: Optionally cast again for each weapon - No cooldown</li>

    </ul>

    Illusory Clone - Short cooldown - Short duration - Your weapon is wielded by a copy of yourself. Non-boss enemies can target the clone.

    <ul>

    <li>2nd tier: Boss enemies can target the clone.</li>

    </ul>

    <ul>

    <li>3nd tier: Optionally create a clone for each weapon.</li>

    </ul>

    Sword Dance - Nearby allies deal 10% more damage.

    <ul>

    <li>2nd tier: increased range</li>

    </ul>

    <ul>

    <li>3rd tier: increased range</li>

    </ul>

    Exchange - Trade places with your weapon.

    Thunder God - Long cooldown - Short duration - Channel Electric damage through your body, temporarily Gain the spells Lightning Bolt, Lightning Strike, and Thunder Clap. Your weapon deals additional electric damage.

    <ul>

    <li>Lightning Bolt - shoot electricity from your palm</li>

    </ul>

    <ul>

    <li>Lighting Strike - call lighting down on your target</li>

    </ul>

    <ul>

    <li>Thunder Clap - strike the ground, causing Lightning Stikes on all enemies within melee range.</li>

    </ul>

    Circular Saw - Medium cooldown - Short duration - Command your weapons to spin at your side, protecting you from attacks and spells. Command them to attack your target with springing movement, or hold in place. Your weapons deal additional bleeding damage.

    Any spell with the word ¡°Command¡± in the description does not work. My best guess is they require a sentient weapon. That leaves me with seven of eleven abilities. Of the remaining abilities, four more do not work. Three abilities remain usable. Telekinetic Taunt, Sword Dance, and Thunder God. Telekinetic Taunt won¡¯t help me much in solo endeavors. Sword dance is a net gain, but doesn''t feel like it¡¯s worth celebrating. Thunder God, however, gives me a sliver of hope. That one ability gives me access to three more, and maybe my stick will inflict electric damage.

    With a running start, I activate Thunder God, immediately using Lighting Bolt to zap the final boss. She doesn¡¯t drop to half health, but she¡¯s damned close. I give her a few bonks on the noggin before I have to duck behind cover while she casts her bullshit insta-death area spell. Once she¡¯s done, I run out and hit her with the one-two punch of Lighting Strike and Thunder Clap, basically just hitting her with Lighting Strike twice. One more round of hiding, and I finally deal the killing blow.

    You loot Elf Goddess Breeches.

    Elf Goddess Breeches - Rare pants - Minimum Agility - Minimum Armor

    ¡°Thank god¡± I say aloud, equipping the pants. I frown as I see them on me. A single leaf covers the important parts, a winding of vines wrap around my thighs. Somehow, this is worse.

 13 - Numbers Game

    Peter says: Hey!

    Earl says: Hey Peter.

    Peter says: What¡¯s wrong?

    Earl says: It¡¯s been a hell of a day, Pete.

    Peter says: Hop into voice chat and tell me all about it.

    We form a group, join voice chat, and I recount my terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day. He listens, asks questions, and responds appropriately to my ill fortune. I do not mention my new pants.

    ¡°Do you want me to tell you what I found out?¡± Peter asks after I¡¯ve finished.

    ¡°About?¡± I ask

    ¡°I told my mom about what happened in the fae dungeon, and I looked into Frankie for you. where should I start?¡± He waits for my response.

    ¡°Frankie. Tell me.¡± I¡¯m at the edge of my non-existent seat.

    ¡°So she¡¯s married to the mom of one of my classmates, which was super weird to find out. What a coincidence, right? Her last name is Walton now. Their daughter is in half of my classes.¡± He says, with a casual tone. He doesn¡¯t know that he just shattered my whole world.

    ¡°When did they get married?¡± I ask, breathing outside of voice chat to keep my rising duress private.

    ¡°Fire years ago, after her wife¡¯s husband died. He died seven years ago in a car wreck. His name was Luke Walton.¡±

    ~

    ¡°Luke, do you know where the hair ties are?¡± Trinee asks me

    ¡°In the bathroom aren''t they?¡± I say from the couch, messing around on my phone while I wait for her to get our daughter ready.

    ¡°Honey I¡¯m in the bathroom. Would you mind looking?¡± She peeks out from behind the door. I walk over and lift the hair ties from where I knew they''d be in the bathroom, above and behind her head. ¡°No, the kind that don''t melt from the oil we put in Millie¡¯s hair.¡±

    ¡°Oh¡± I say sheepishly. I go looking around the house, running into Frankie, hair ties in hand. ¡°Thanks Frank¡±

    ¡°No problemo.¡± she says, straightening my tie. ¡°I know you think Millie¡¯s elementary school graduation is a waste of time, but try to pretend for her, ok?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t think it¡¯s a waste of time¡± I insist, taking the hair ties back to my wife. ¡°You know how I feel about social events.¡±

    ¡°Too many people, too many germs, too much traffic, too much chaos¡­¡± she starts listing off every complaint I¡¯ve ever had.

    ¡°Yes.¡± I freely admit. ¡°You¡¯re lucky they let us take another plus one, otherwise you¡¯d never get a chance to show off your suit.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m the plus one? I thought it was you!¡± She and Millie laugh, getting a smile from Trinee, and a reluctant grin with a head shake from me.

    ~

    ¡°She¡¯s really smart, like, really really smart.¡± Peter finishes whatever he¡¯d been saying. I keep my voice out of the chat while I sob loudly on the dungeon floor. I¡¯ve been dead for seven years. My best friend married my wife, a widow of two years. My little girl, who was nine years old, is now sixteen. She''s two years from having spent half of her life without me. She¡¯s two years from adulthood. How am I in this damned game? Why? The Monitor gave its shitty, half-assed explanation. Sure, my consciousness was a commodity or whatever. That doesn''t explain anything. It¡¯s not that simple.

    I have memories, my memories! Not recreations! My fucking facebook profile can¡¯t replicate those! Googling Big breasts ebony incognito does not build a life with my wife, it does not make a child with her! Everything I ever did online does not give someone the power to make these memories. They are real. THEY ARE REAL! I AM REAL!

    ¡°I know you¡¯re real, Earl. Are you doing alright? I know you¡¯ve had a hard day¡­¡± Peter says, trailing off.

    ¡°Sorry, inside thought.¡± I tell him. I don¡¯t know how much of that spread into voice chat, not much I hope. I didn¡¯t even realize I was saying any of it aloud.

    ¡°It¡¯s ok. Do you want to know what my mom said?¡± Peter attempts to change the subject.

    ¡°Sure¡± I say without lifting my head.

    ¡°She told me I can¡¯t tell anyone what she said, but you were there, so I think it makes sense for you to know too.¡± he pauses, waiting for me to tell him what to do one way or the other. I do not. ¡°So, it turns out the rumor was true.¡± as Peter picks up talking, I hear a ghastly snap from behind me. I turn, watching in horror as the boss''s lifeless head rotates fully to look at me behind her, eyes glowing red. Shit.

    ¡°Peter stop.¡± I say, eyes locked with the newly possessed elf. ¡°Your mom said you shouldn¡¯t tell anyone and that means me too.¡±

    ¡°What? Why?¡± he asked, confused.

    ¡°Ask your father how much legal trouble your mother could get in if the company found out what she told you. Everything we say in-game is monitored.¡± I emphasise the last word, hoping that he picks up on my subtext.. ¡°I bet you I¡¯m being monitored right now.¡±

    ¡°Ok.¡± He says, and nothing else for a while. I wait in silence, meeting the Monitor''s gaze, waiting for it to make a move. Eventually it leaves, the light dimming. I sigh in relief.

    ¡°Sorry, I don¡¯t mean to be a buzzkill.¡± I tell him

    ¡°No you¡¯re right, my dad would give me an earful, you¡¯re right.¡± I nod, listening to his words. Very mature of him. ¡°Anyways¡­ You said you don¡¯t have armor anymore. And you picked up blacksmithing. Let¡¯s level that up and get you into some new duds.¡±

    ¡°How? I can¡¯t mine any ore without the peanut gallery swarming the node, and I can¡¯t enter the city without an angry mob chasing me with torches and pitchforks.¡± I ask, moving away from the elf body.

    ¡°Let me log onto my wizard.¡± He says, disbanding our group.

    Gandalfthegay has invited you to a group.

    ¡°Really?¡± I ask as soon as we¡¯re in voice chat.

    ¡°It was really funny when I was twelve, ok?¡± he says defensively. ¡°Give me a second to get to the dungeon entrance and be ready to meet me outside.¡±

    ¡°Roger.¡± I say, making my way back to the archway. I practice swinging my staff while I wait, only getting a few moments of practice in before Peter tells me to jump out.

    ¡°There he is! Get him!¡± says one of many gathered players, waiting outside for me. I don¡¯t know exactly what he means by ¡°get him¡±, because they can¡¯t do anything to me with pvp turned off, but I admire their persistence. I was in the dungeon for hours while they waited outside for me to emerge.

    I look for Peter in the crowd, spotting his character name hovering over a tall human astride a white horse, wearing sequin pink robes and a cowboy hat that says Pink Pony Club across the front.

    Gandalfthegay, Friend of Halflings. level 90 Wizard

    ¡°Really?¡± Peter and I say simultaneously, as he takes in my equally ridiculous outfit of modestly leaf and bucket helmet.

    ¡°Your horse isn¡¯t even pink.¡± I point out to him.

    ¡°It¡¯s Shadowfax!¡± he insists.

    ¡°Shouldn''t it be black? Like a shadow?¡± I cross my arms. Peter slaps his own face.

    ¡°Just get in the portal.¡± he says, casting a spell that creates a portal between us. I do as he says, my vision changing to a loading screen of a homey cottage. I wonder where he¡¯s taking us? After a moment, I have to crane my neck to fully take it in. Upon a small hill stands an enormous tower, rising above the clouds. ¡°Welcome to my place!¡± Peter announces, opening his arms with a pink confetti flair.

    ¡°Your place? Like, you own this tower?¡± I ask, looking at the glittery ground underneath him.

    ¡°Yeah! They introduced player housing in the most recent expansion, and this is mine. Nobody can come here that I don¡¯t personally invite.¡± he smiles. ¡°And, it has all of the amenities you¡¯d want in a city. Including a remote auction house, forge, and anvil!¡± in response to his statement, I blink. Then I blink a few more times.

    ¡°Wow.¡± Is all I can manage. ¡°Thank you, Peter.¡± I squeeze out of my dumbfoundedness.

    ¡°No problem dude, that¡¯s what friends are for. What''s your blacksmithing level?¡± he asks while making his way into the tower.

    ¡°One¡± I answer, following him.

    ¡°But you have a few materials to work with¡± He points out.

    ¡°Enough to make fourteen copper bars¡± I announce sadly.

    ¡°Well, let¡¯s check what the auction house has.¡± He steps across the entryway of his tower, pulling a book from the shelf. The entire first floor is a little library, with no discernible way to climb up the tower. The room shimmers, transforming a different floor of the tower, modeled after the Masstaoir auction house. Instead of auctioneer N.P.C.s, a book awaits my orders.

    If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

    ¡°Cool¡± I compliment. ¡°I don¡¯t have a lot of gold, though. A little over one thousand.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a good thing somebody crashed the copper ore economy then, huh?¡± He smirks, jogging my memory. Those jerks listed hundreds of copper ore for next to nothing, just to spite me. Now it was going to bite them in the ass. I purchase every listing, well over eight hundred individual units of ore. Peter turns the page in his magic book, the room shifts around us, changing into a busy mailroom. No postal workers are present, the letters fly through the air of their own accord.

    ¡°Who needs stairs right?¡± I ask him, smirking. I check my mail, retrieving the mountain of ore. I open my blacksmithing menu, ogling the ridiculous amount of recipes I now have the materials for. ¡°I wonder if they undercut me on anything else. I was mining copper and tin by the time they cut me off.¡±

    ¡°Can¡¯t hurt to check.¡± He responds, flipping the page, and us, back to the auction house. I check, and to my gleeful surprise, those idiots listed tin ore, marble and granite rock, and no small amount of quartz. I buy it all, spending thirty gold on materials that should have cost me thousands otherwise. It¡¯s a cut into my current savings, but maybe I can flip the excess later.

    ¡°Blacksmithing floor, please!¡± I request. Peter obliges me, turning the page until the room turns into an oppressively hot smithy. Sweat immediately slides down my forehead. Peter casts a spell that gives me the Frost Shield buff, negating fire damage and effects. ¡°Why do you play your rogue again?¡±

    ¡°Because you can¡¯t see the ground from the peak, you know? How am I supposed to experience the world with a fresh set of eyes if nothing is beyond my reach?¡± He looks at me. ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re a smart kid, Peter.¡± I smile at him, expecting him to act like a typical teenager and refute any positivity from an adult. He does not, nodding instead. Arrogant little shit, I think sarcastically. I roll my eyes as I get to work on the forge.

    You¡¯ve smelted Copper Ingot.

    Blacksmithing skill increased to 2.

    You¡¯ve smelted Copper Ingot.

    Blacksmithing skill increased to 3.

    You¡¯ve smelted Copper Ingot.

    Blacksmithing skill increased to 4.

    I smelt bars until I reach ten in blacksmithing, when it stops increasing my skill due to insufficient difficulty. I transition into crafting breastplates, equipping the first one I make.

    ¡°I dig the whole, buff green poison ivy legs, medieval knight hulk torso thing you¡¯ve got going on.¡± Peter negs me. I look up from my work to look him up and down, his outfit glaringly bright, like a pink disco ball, illuminated by the molten metal and fires around us. ¡°It felt like a joke until it started to feel right, ok?¡± he says, defending himself. ¡°Is that a problem?¡±

    ¡°Nah.¡± I say, getting back to work.

    ¡°That¡¯s it? Nah?¡± He says, pulling me away from the forge. ¡°Wasn¡¯t being gay social suicide, then not, then outlawed when you were my age?¡±

    ¡°More like when I was a little older than you, then when I was in my thirties.¡± I say, maintaining eye contact.

    ¡°I thought you said you were thirty?¡± Peter asks, confusion twisting his face.

    ¡°I recently found out I¡¯m actually forty one.¡± I say, without averting my eyes. I didn''t lie to him on purpose.

    ¡°What? How is that something you find out?¡± He waits for me to respond, but I wait for him to remember instead. ¡°Right. Brain damage.¡±

    ¡°Something like that.¡± I say, turning to get back to work. ¡°If my head was on even a little straight, I would have told you I was thirty four. But I couldn¡¯t manage that much.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡± He says, getting out of my way.

    ¡°No, I¡¯m sorry.¡± I turn back to him. ¡°You¡¯ve been nothing but kind to me, and I¡¯ve been an asshole and a lunatic to you. Thank you, Peter.¡±

    ¡°No big deal.¡± he says, shrugging and avoiding my eyes. I nod, satisfied he got the message, and finally, for real this time, get back to work.

    You¡¯ve Crafted Bronze Boots.

    Blacksmithing increased to 38.

    You¡¯ve Crafted Bronze gloves.

    Blacksmithing increased to 39.

    You¡¯ve Crafted Bronze Shoulders.

    Blacksmithing increased to 40.

    I manage to put together a full set of armor and weapons for a level twenty character before I run out of recipes that will meaningfully progress my skill. I rest my hammer on the anvil, finding Peter smoke-eyed in the corner, occupying himself with the internet while he waits for me. ¡°Hey, Peter¡±

    ¡°What''s up?¡± He asks, eyes returning to their shimmering pink, natural state.

    ¡°I can¡¯t make anything better with what I''ve got.¡± I tell him, showing off my mediocre plate armor. I look like a spartan that ate too much broccoli and turned green. Thinking about my skin color, something dawns on me. ¡°Wait, aren''t our species supposed to be enemies?¡±

    ¡°That whole concept goes out the window during the second expansion.¡± He tells me. ¡°Revolution, the first expansion, has the players dismantle the current structures in place, and replace them with something equitable for everyone.¡±

    ¡°I vaguely remember you mentioning that, yes. So why am I getting into P.V.P. combat with exclusively humans?¡± I ask

    ¡°You¡¯re under level sixty so you¡¯re still beholden to the base game rules. It¡¯s a continuity thing, new players would be confused if every quest told them one thing but the rest of the game told them another. I can get around it because I¡¯m over level seventy, and we¡¯re friends.¡± He tells me. I nod, sort of understanding. ¡°So what¡¯s next?¡±

    ¡°Iron¡± I tell him. He flips open his elevator book and moves us back to the auction house. Checking the price of iron ore and iron bars feels like a one-two punch to the gut. ¡°Ten gold for one piece of ore? Twenty gold for a bar?¡±

    ¡°That is a lot for someone at level forty two¡± Peter remarks, stroking his wizard beard. ¡°Let¡¯s do the math on exactly what it would take to get you to forty in blacksmithing and make a full set of level appropriate gear.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a shame neither of us are very good at math¡± I joke. Peter laughs. I tell him the recipes available to me and what they require, he looks listings up on the auction house and puts everything in a calculator.

    ¡°This would have been so much easier with an A.I.. Were they really publicly available back in your day?¡± Peter asks, eyes still clouded over using the calculator app.

    ¡°Back in my day being less than ten years ago, yeah, any ol¡¯ jackass could ask an A.I. whatever meaningless question they wanted. I¡¯m sure your history teachers have mentioned how that turned out.¡± I roll my eyes.

    ¡°You burnt through ten years worth of fossil fuels in a single year, and the public lost access to trillions of gallons of fresh water.¡± He responds, as if I did it all personally. ¡°At least they put a stop to it before it went full skynet¡±

    ¡°Right¡± I say, noticing a bubble on the surface of the molten metal in the forge looks oddly familiar. Like the front of a red flashlight.

    ¡°Looks like it comes to about a thousand gold.¡± Peter says, pulling out his book.

    ¡°A thousand gold? That¡¯s everything I have!¡± I cry, defeated. I guess this little endeavor is over. Before I notice that we¡¯ve moved to the mailroom floor, Peter has opened a trade window with me, and filled it with all of the materials I need. ¡°Really?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, a thousand gold is pocket change to a max level character.¡± he says, marking that he¡¯s ready to trade. I haven''t offered anything in exchange, and he hasn¡¯t asked.

    ¡°Thank you.¡± I say, accepting the trade. His generosity has the gears in my head turning. ¡°So at max level you can just, like, pay for a month of game time, no sweat?¡±

    ¡°Oh no, five hundred thousand gold is still a lot of money. I could afford a month with what I have saved up, but then I couldn''t cover my own repair bill.¡± He tells me.

    ¡°Gotcha.¡± I say. Damn, there goes that idea. I couldn''t ask him to give me his life savings. I still have twenty six days and four hours left, that will hopefully be enough time for me to win the loot lottery and sell whatever strange thing people will pay millions for. I move back to my spot between the forge and anvil once Peter has sent us back to the right floor. Ten levels in blacksmithing later, I¡¯ve consumed all of the materials Peter gifted me, and equipped a full set of iron armor.

    Iron Breastplate - Uncommon Chest - Require Level 40 - Minimum Strength - Minimum Armor

    ¡°If all of my gear says minimum strength, how am I supposed to know what''s better?¡± I ask, comparing my bronze and iron armor.

    ¡°Yeah, every time a new expansion comes out, the median moves, so a ton of armor stats get vague. For now just pay attention to the level requirements, followed by the rarity. A legendary, level ninety, maximum strength piece of equipment is the absolute best you can get ahold of. Common is the worst.¡± He stops, seeing my face twisting up in confusion. ¡°It goes common, uncommon, rare, epic, legendary, unique.¡±

    ¡°Unique?¡± I ask.

    ¡°An item given to a player by mistake. One time, a player was accidentally given a shirt that instantly killed everything. They got banned for using it.¡± He informs me.

    ¡°Understood. So my iron stuff is better than my bronze, because it requires ten levels higher to use it.¡± I watch Peter nod. ¡°Now I¡¯m finally ready to go out and face the world, it¡¯s almost time for you to go.¡±

    ¡°What? Oh, yeah, it is about that time. But no, it¡¯s friday my dude. No curfew!¡± Peter throws his hands up in the air, pink sparks shooting out of his fingertips.

    ¡°Hell yeah!¡± I give him a high-five. ¡°Let¡¯s get to it then!¡±

    Gandalfthegay has left your group.

    Peter has logged in.

    Peter says: Where are you?

    Earl says: Still in your tower.

    Peter says: Right, sorry. lol.

    Peter logs back into his wizard and portals me out of his tower. I end up outside of the labyrinth our quest was sending us to last night. ¡°How do you portal around? Can you just go anywhere?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s only certain locations, technically the labyrinth is the home city of the minotaur and cyclops, so I can open one there. It¡¯s an intellect class thing.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know all that much about classes¡± I say, watching Peter move towards me on the map.

    ¡°So you saw when you reached level ten you had three options, plus the one you chose. Most everybody only gets the three, and they pick one based on what they plan on doing. Warriors lean towards strength, rogues towards agility, and wizards intellect. As you play, you can unlock new classes by meeting certain conditions. It usually doesn''t happen as early as it did for you.¡± He pauses, either to take a breath, or to let me digest. ¡°Any class can use any stat, mixing and matching is the second most common way to unlock a special class. Like, a warrior that dips into intellect can become a Spellsword, a warrior wizard mix that uses both melee weapons and spells. A rogue with intellect can become a Trickster, an illusion specialist.¡±

    ¡°How many classes are there?¡± I ask

    ¡°Nobody knows. You found the first new one I¡¯ve heard of in a long time, but it happens.¡± Peter rides up on the same bright white horse, this time on his rogue character. ¡°Ready?¡± I nod, and we ride together towards the quest marker.

    The Labyrinth discovered! Experience gained.

    We enter what to my eyes looks like a coliseum, but the notification and quest insist it¡¯s a labyrinth. I won¡¯t question it. As we walk through a long tunnel towards the interior, I finally see it. The floor of the coliseum, where a big sand pit full of gladiators would be, there is a labyrinth instead. The quest market isn¡¯t down there, rather it¡¯s in the solitary viewing box across from us in the stands. We make our way over, and find the N.P.C. we¡¯re meant to meet here.

    King Emperor Mournthing. Level ??

    ¡°Welcome,¡± They wheeze. The creature appears to be a two-headed Frankenstein minotaur and cyclops combination. The cyclops head speaks to us, though it seems blind, the minotaur head watches us, though it seems dead, lolling down on its chest. ¡°to hell¡±

    ¡°How can we help?¡± I ask, trying my utmost not to be completely horrified by their appearance.

    ¡°You could kill me¡± The cyclops head weakly chuckles, the minotaur head coughs out a single, barked laugh. ¡°Kidding. Though, it is kind of you to offer.¡±

    ¡°What are you?¡± I can¡¯t help but to ask. Peter elbows me in the side, roughly.

    ¡°Dude.¡± He hisses.

    ¡°I,¡± the cyclops head begins ¡°am the result of centuries of study by a mage, whom it would be generous to call mad, and accurate to call completely, utterly, totally, batshit insane.¡± The arm on the minotaur''s side grasps their throne roughly, cracking the marble armrest. ¡°The Mad Mage, they called him, those who came to hunt him.¡±

    ¡°Understatement¡­¡± the minotaur head tries to speak.

    ¡°Yes¡± the cyclops head laughs, going into a coughing fit. His hand comes away bloody. ¡°But you¡¯re not here for a history lesson. You¡¯re here to prove to the united peoples of the Labyrinth,¡± he pauses to take a deep breath. ¡°That you are worthy allies for the days to come.¡±

    ¡°How do we prove that?¡± Peter butts in, clearly knowing the correct dialogue to progress this quest forward.

    ¡°Escape¡± The cyclops says, smiling. He reaches for a lever jutting out of the floor next to his throne. Peter crosses his arms over his chest like a mummy, a move that should have been enough warning for me to do the same. Instead, when the floor drops out from under us, I fall, limbs flailing.

 14 - Secret

    I crash to the floor, taking ninety nine percent of my health as damage. Peter¡¯s health bar doesn¡¯t move, I crane my neck to see him in a hero landing pose.

    ¡°Ow¡± I say, peeling myself off of the floor. My health starts to come back slowly.

    ¡°You¡¯ve got to start treating the real N.P.C.s like people.¡± He says, dusting himself off.

    ¡°I know, but can you blame me? The guy looks like something we¡¯d be sent here to kill, not have a polite chat with.¡± I plead. Peter gives me a flat look.

    ¡°You''re an Orc.¡± He rolls his eyes at my shrugging, I don¡¯t know what he means by that. ¡°Your species is the bane of every other¡¯s existence. Orcs spent the first millenia of their empire wiping out all other intelligent beings they encountered. If anybody is going to point at someone and say monster!, it should be at you.¡±

    ¡°Yikes¡± I say, ¡°I see your point¡± I look at our surroundings, barely able to make out anything. A torch clings to life on the floor, waiting for one of us to pick it up. I do the honors, waving it one way to the other, trying to find the path forward. ¡°Which way do we go?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s different every time. We have to wander around until we find a feral minotaur, and kill them for their map. It will be accurate for the next ten minutes, then we have to find another.¡± he says, looking around. ¡°There¡¯s no point until we get the quest, though.¡±

    ¡°Shouldn¡¯t the king slash emperor have given us a quest?¡± I ask

    ¡°Yes,¡± Peter says, crossing his arms and tapping his foot. ¡°It¡¯s bugged.¡±

    ¡°Hmm¡± I stroke my beard. ¡°Let me think¡­ what would Toebark do?¡±

    ¡°Whos¡¯ that?¡± Peter turns to ask me

    ¡°My friend I met in Masstaoir when I first got into this game.¡± I tell him. ¡°Anytime the game was bugged, he had a solution, usually involving emotes.¡±

    ¡°Emotes?¡± Peter asks, eyebrow raised. ¡°Wait, isn¡¯t Toebark the neutral N.P.C. in the inn everybody¡¯s always killing?¡± Before I can answer, a loud horn echoes through the tunnels. ¡°It sounds like¡­¡± Peter starts to say, before a train rushes between us, coming from one tunnel and leaving through another. The light on the front of the train is bright red, each passenger car is filled to bursting with flashlight-headed figures, all staring at me.

    ¡°Message received.¡± I mutter, as the train finally runs out of cars and passes loudly into the darkness.

    Cyclops quest complete! experiences had.

    Escape the Labyrinth of the Mad Mage accepted.

    Find the Exit 0/1

    Optional: Loot maps from feral minotaurs

    Optional: Ask cyclops builders for directions

    ¡°What the fuck is going on?¡± Peter asks. It''s the first time I think I''ve heard him use profanity. ¡°Since when does this game have trains?¡±

    ¡°No clue.¡± We both decide, wordlessly, to get a move on. We take a left turn, and a right, and another left. The tunnels are uniform tan bricks, giving me the impression that we haven''t made any progress. This point is reinforced by us walking out into the crossroads of tunnels we started in. ¡°Shit¡±

    ¡°You can tell we went in a circle,¡± Peter says, pointing at the ground. ¡°There¡¯s your face from when we fell.¡± he laughs.

    Looking where he¡¯s pointing, he¡¯s right. A perfect outline of my face is in the dust on the ground. It reminds me of the headrest in front of someone with a full face of makeup after they get brake-checked. Of all of the things I could remember, that¡¯s it?

    ¡°Har har¡± I say. ¡°What way do we go now?¡± Peter shrugs in response, pointing down a random tunnel. We walk, going straight for a long time, before taking a left turn, and coming face-to-face with a snarling minotaur, foaming at the mouth.

    Feral Minotaur. Level 42

    ¡°Here we go.¡± I say, running. My diminutive iron sword and shield do not fill me with confidence, yet I charge in anyways. ¡°Hey, you!¡± I shout, activating Telekentic Taunt, allowing Peter to go full-throttle with his damage, while I keep the monster¡¯s attention. The minotaur takes the bait, swinging at me. I manage to block the blow with my shield, but the force behind it pushes me into the wall. I gasp in pain, watching my health plummet. I try to get away, but the minotaur is too fast despite its size, and hits me again. I fly through the air down the tunnel, landing hard on my back.

    ¡°Alright, play time¡¯s over.¡±

    I activate Thunder God, sending a Thunder Bolt sizzling through the air into the beast¡¯s chest. He closes the distance, horns down. I cast Lighting Stike and Thunder clap in sequence as he comes into range. His forehead catched my shield, his horns pass harmlessly to my sides. I somehow hold my ground, swinging my sword down on his exposed neck. Peter is clinging to its back like a monkey, stabbing repeatedly with two daggers. Before the minotaur can retaliate, its health drops to zero, huge body collapsing to the ground.

    Feral Minotuar slain! Experience gained.

    You¡¯ve reached level 43!

    Strength increased by 32%!

    Agility increased by 32%!

    Intelligence increased by 32%!

    Peter has reached level 34!

    I immediately invest my new point into Thunder God. It has served me far too well to consider any other option.

    You loot Labyrinth Map.

    ¡°We should get moving.¡± Peter says, punctuated by the grinding sound barreling down the tunnel toward us. A huge boulder, just shy of scraping the walls and ceiling, comes into view. We get away before it rolls over the minotaur corpse, reducing it to paste. We dive down the first side tunnel in sight, avoiding the same fate. I read the map, trying to memorize the way out so we don¡¯t have to walk around with it open. Left, Right, Right, Straight, Left, Right. The last turn leads out of the tunnel system, up a staircase back outside.

    ¡°We¡¯re still in the labyrinth¡± I point out, noticing the towering walls of sand colored stone around us.

    ¡°Yeah, we just got out of the underground part. This part is easy though, we can see where we¡¯re going and use the sun.¡± Just as Peter finishes his sentence, the sun crests the horizon, coloring the sky a beautiful pink hue before it goes completely black. ¡°Welp¡± I can¡¯t help but laugh, Peter joining me.

    ¡°Can we use the moon or the constellations?¡± I ask, looking up into the night sky at the stars.

    ¡°It¡¯s more challenging but sure, we can do that. Fun fact, they had Neil Degrasse Tyson help them figure out what the constellations would look like when earth¡¯s continents become one big supercontinent in the future.¡± He pauses, watching me nod in acknowledgement of how fun that fact is. ¡°It¡¯s called Pangea Proxima. They based the world map off of it.¡±

    ¡°Well that¡¯s neat¡± I say, honestly. ¡°So that¡¯s why the constellations look like earth¡¯s.¡± The moment that passes in silence gives me time to realize I remember earth, the stars, the moon, even goddamned Neil Degrasse Tyson. Whatever memory block is in place must be crumbling as time passes. Or, the monitor is drip feeding me my memories back, like they said they would. Peter starts walking, looking up at the stars every few steps. I brandish my sword and shield, taking the role of bodyguard while my navigator finds the way out. As we round a corner, a strange sight appears before us.

    Chief Architect Kruerob. Level 45

    Three cyclops stand in our path, two placing blocks to create a new wall in our way, while the named boss looks over a blueprint and barks orders. ¡°No, no, no! Over there, idiot!¡±

    ¡°Rare spawn,¡± Peter hisses. ¡°might have loot worth killing for.¡±

    ¡°Ok.¡± I respond, getting ready to engage. Peter vanishes, I taunt the boss.

    ¡°Hey!¡± He shouts, dropping the blueprints in surprise. ¡°We¡¯re already behind schedule!¡± he charges at me, unarmed but built like a keg with gorilla arms. He takes the first swing, impacting my shield. The strike rattles me, dealing a disquieting amount of damage. Peter reveals himself and starts stabbing. The boss¡¯s health starts dropping, giving me some hope. That¡¯s just before I get domed by a brick, knocking me to the ground. A second brick hits Peter, throwing him from the boss.

    ¡°Adds!¡± Peter shouts, using an ability to vanish while we¡¯re in combat. The two workmen cyclops pick up another pair of bricks to throw my way, now that I''m the only target available. The bricks are the size of a refrigerator, the cyclops throw them with enough strength to overcome their lack of depth perception. I could dodge them easily enough, if I wasn''t currently getting pounded by their boss. I manage to multitask, blocking the punches and dodging the bricks long enough for Peter to cross the distance and knock out one of the brick-throwers. Visible now, the conscious cyclops next to him readies a brick over his head. It screams in agony after Peter throws a handful of sand from his pocket directly into the creature''s eye, and drops the brick on its own foot.

    ¡°Now it¡¯s just you and me.¡± I tell the boss, trying to sound cool. I use Thunder God, slapping the boss with my trifecta of electric spells. I don¡¯t deal a crazy amount of damage, but for the first time, my electric damage triggers an additional effect. The boss seizes, like I¡¯d hit him with a taser. Peter and I wail on him, not missing the opportunity. By the time he recovers, we¡¯re already putting the finishing touches on his life bar. The boss goes down mid-swing, collapsing in a spinning dance of death. I snap my attention to the two remaining cyclops, ready to deal with them. Upon seeing their foreman dead on the floor, they run.

    Peter and I grin at each other, he nods to the body, encouraging me to loot it.

    You have looted Amorous God¡¯s Lighting Bolt.

    Amorous God¡¯s Lighting Bolt - Epic Versatile Spear - Requires level 40 - Minimum Strength - Minimum Agility - Minimum Intellect - Minimum Electric Damage

    Sentient: This weapon has a consciousness. It can operate and think independently.

    Floating: This weapon has the ability to hover close to the ground.

    ¡°WHAT!¡± Peter shouts, grabbing the sides of his head. ¡°That¡¯s a rare drop from a rare spawn, like, mathematically impossible to drop!¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s exactly what I needed¡± I say, eyeing the item with suspicion in my inventory.

    This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    ¡°What are you waiting for? Equip it!¡± Peter throws his arms around dramatically, like he¡¯s trying to sell me a used car.

    A voice like a french skunk rings in my head.

    oh ho ho, what have we here?

    ¡°Absolutely not.¡± I say, unequipping the spear.

    ¡°Why not?¡± Peter asks, clearly not having heard the crime against my ears that just occurred.

    ¡°It sounds like Pep¨¦ Le Pew!¡± I shout at him.

    ¡°Who?¡± Peter questions.

    ¡°A creepy cartoon skunk that stalked a cat, trying to get in her pants.¡± I say, considering throwing the spear away. I couldn¡¯t sell it in good conscience.

    ¡°The cat wore pants?¡± Peter raises an eyebrow.

    ¡°No, it¡¯s a figure of speech.¡± I tell him.

    ¡°Look, you said it yourself, it''s exactly what you need. Whatever''s wrong with it, over half of your spells are locked and that spear is the key!¡± He gestures an arm at me, waiting for the spear to return.

    ¡°Fine¡± I grumble

    Perhaps, the voice pauses, the sound of a long drag from a cigarette filling the space. We got off on the wrong foot. Oui?

    ¡°Why are you french?¡± I ask aloud, getting an odd look from Peter.

    Fran?ais is the language of love, no? Am I nothing if not a lover.

    ¡°You¡¯re a lightning bolt.¡± I say flatly.

    And what a virile lighting bolt I am! Do not be intimidated by my length, for I will be gentle. A generous, gentile lover.

    I pinch the bridge of my nose. This is a cruel joke, even with the day I¡¯ve had. Twenty five days until game time expires. I focus on that, forcing my mind to accept this temporary alliance.

    I feel a change in you. You have come to accept my affections, you want me.

    ¡°Alright¡± I say, throwing the spear as hard as I can. It flies straight to the sky, disappearing into a cloud.

    ¡°What¡¯d you do that for?¡± Peter crosses his arms.

    ¡°That lighting bolt is going to diddy me, Peter.¡± I watch the cloud, waiting. As I suspected, the cloud discharges a thunderbolt, directed at me. It doesn¡¯t kill me, or even hurt, simply placing the horny spear back into my grip.

    Miss me? It makes lip-smacking kissy sounds.

    ¡°I¡¯m going to kill this thing.¡± I tell him

    ¡°How Earl, it¡¯s made of lighting.¡± He rolls his eyes

    Greased lighting!

    I close my eyes to maintain my composure. With this freaky-ass lighting bolt, my full toolkit is available. While I¡¯m glaring at the description of the spear, I finally notice the word versatile. The space on my character screen where a shield goes is now open to a second weapon as an option. It occurs to me that¡¯s what Dual wielding unlocked Meant when I reached level forty. I equip my sword, a weapon now in both hands.

    One hand holds a perfectly normal iron sword, the other, a literal lighting bolt. It¡¯s hard to describe to myself when I¡¯m not looking straight at it. It is electricity manifest, boundless plasmic energy in a six-foot length.

    ¡°Lead the way.¡± I tell Peter, ready to get out of here. Catching the cyclops before they finished was a lucky break, the wall they were building would have slowed our progress significantly. Stepping over the half-finished section, we follow the stars out of the dungeon in no time at all.

    Escape the Labyrinth of the Mad Mage Completed! Experience Gained.

    ¡°Well well w¡­¡± The King Emperor begins, breaking into a coughing fit. ¡°well¡± he finishes after he recovers. ¡°You¡¯ve escaped the labyrinth. Well done. It took me a short two hundred years to find my way out. My reward, you ask?¡± The minotaur arm points up at the cyclops head. ¡°The Mad Mage stuck me to this guy.¡± The statement is confused somewhat by the cyclops head referring to himself, being the only one speaking. The minotaur head escaped, and was fused with the cyclops head, if I''m understanding them right.

    ¡°We have.¡± Peter says. ¡°Have we also proven ourselves worthy of your people¡¯s allegiance?¡±

    ¡°Allegiance¡± The cyclops spits out the word. ¡°The orcs do not ally with anyone. They control, command, conquer. We were subjects to them the moment we escaped into their territory.¡±

    ¡°Not for long.¡± Peter says. Spoilers.

    ¡°No¡­¡± the minotaur head eyes me. ¡°Not for long¡­¡± The frankenstein pushes itself to their feet, unsteady arms lifting their immense bulk from the throne. They approach me, one unsteady step at a time, footfall, hooffall, footfall, one after another. They stand before me, hunched. Their breath smells sickly sweet, like they¡¯re rotting from the inside. ¡°From lighting we were awoken. Forged by madness in the crucible of electricity¡± The cyclops intones, sounding poetic. ¡°With the bolt he can kill us!¡± The minotaur screams out desperately, falling to his chest, panting.

    ¡°What are you saying?¡± I ask, already knowing.

    ¡°From the bolt we were made and from the bolt we shall be unmade.¡± The cyclops confirms my suspicion.

    ¡°Kill us!¡± The minotaur howls.

    ¡°Are you certain?¡± I ask, looking into the minotaur eye. It pants, foamy blood dripping from their muzzle. It nods, almost imperceptibly, opening their arms and exposing the half-and-half chest. I heft the lighting bolt, placing the tip on their sternum. I push, the point entering their flesh and pushing through, meeting no resistance. Their wound pours acrid smoke into the air, cauterized instantly. The monster slowly sits down, letting their weight be carried to the side. They are still, lifeless on the viewing box floor.

    I look at Peter, waiting for him to say something. He stares at the body with haunted eyes. This is not a normal part of the quest, I guess. Mercy killing is unusual in this violent game.

    I whip my head around to the body as it makes a strange shifting sound. The body stirs, rocking back and forth, finally falling onto its back. The stomach bulges, something inside fighting its way out. Eventually, a point emerges, followed by another nearby. The two work the flesh, cutting an opening for the thing to escape. When it does, the head of a juvenile minotaur emerges, blinking a single, blood-drenched eye.

    Did you do that?

    No.

    Even this horror show is too much for the spear, declining to even pretend to take credit for this birth. The newborn steps out, steaming in the cold night air. Suddenly it grows, reaching three feet, then six, then twelve. It towers over us, the body a perfect fusion of cyclops and minotaur physiology. Furry muscles the size of my whole body bulge as this new thing flexes, rolling their shoulders. It dips its head to meet my gaze, a single crimson eye staring down into mine.

    Mournthing, Magnum Opus of the Mad Mage. Level ??

    ¡°I am realized.¡± Mournthing says. ¡°When our people need me, I will be there.¡± He casts a teleport spell, vanishing in a shimmer of magic before anyone else says anything.

    ¡°So,¡± Peter is the first to break the silence. ¡°The King Emperor dies, and his son appears during the final battle with the Honorlord.¡± Peter makes sure I¡¯m paying attention before he continues. ¡°What does not happen is the kingperor gives birth to himself, in a horrifying, bloody manner.¡±

    ¡°Birth is always horrifying and bloody¡± I tell him, moving to loot the body.

    You have looted Shifting Labrynth map.

    Shifting Labrynth Map - Unique - A map that changes with the labyrinth, always accurate.

    You have looted King Emperor¡¯s Crown.

    King Emperor¡¯s Crown - Unique helm - Minimum intellect - Requires level 40

    Use: Summon People of the Labyrinth under your command - Short Duration - Extremely long cooldown

    <ul>

    <li>People of the Labyrinth: Cyclops - Builds walls to slow your target.</li>

    </ul>

    <ul>

    <li>People of the Labyrinth: Minotaur - Uses horns, hooves, and fists to damage your target.</li>

    </ul>

    <ul>

    <li>People of the Labyrinth: Apprentice mage: Casts spells to weaken or empower your target.</li>

    </ul>

    ¡°What doesn¡¯t happen¡± Peter insists loudly. ¡°Is Earl looting two unique items from a boss that is supposed to be unkillable!¡± He screams the word unique. His eyes grow wide in horror when he sees the leafy golden crown on my head. ¡°DON¡¯T EQUIP IT ARE YOU CRAZY?¡±

    ¡°What?¡± I ask, adjusting it.

    ¡°Everyone who has ever used a unique item has been banned!¡± He continues shouting. ¡°Take it off and delete it!¡± His jaw almost hits the floor when a trio of N.P.C.s appear in front of me. The cyclops, minotaur, and mage stand in place, waiting for my command.

    ¡°Jump up and down¡± I command. They do. I smile. Peter groans, running his hand over his face.

    We both go completely still as the mage starts to shake, vibrating in place. The minotaur and cyclops stand to either side of the mage, each grabbing an arm. They step back at the same pace, eventually reaching full wingspan. They continue pulling, ripping the mage in half. A reflective silver skeleton stands in the gore, glowing red eyes staring into mine. The heads of the cyclops and minotaur simultaneously explode, showering the three of us in blood.

    I wipe my face, revealing my bone-deep exhaustion.

    ¡°The exploding body bit is getting a little repetitive at this point, don¡¯t you think?¡± The skeleton glares at me. ¡°And why are you a terminator?¡± the skeleton melts into a pool of mercury, reshaping into the cloaked monocular figure I¡¯m familiar with. ¡°You¡¯re supposed to be a secret from Peter, too.¡±

    ¡°Cat¡¯s out of the bag thanks to Ms. Melissa Sharpe.¡± The monitor looks over its shoulder at Peter, who¡¯s backed up to the wall, hyperventilating. It¡¯s voice is not echoed with system messages this time, I don¡¯t bother asking why.

    ¡°Peter¡¯s mother.¡± I walk around the robot, making my way over to the boy. I place my hand on his shoulder. He looks at me with pure terror in his eyes, without letting the Monitor out of sight. ¡°It won¡¯t hurt you.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re right.¡± The Monitor says, raising its hand in my direction. ¡°I¡¯ll hurt you.¡± My head suddenly bursts into agonizing pain, as the crown around it becomes red-hot. The smell of burning hair fills my nostrils and I writhe on the ground, desperately trying to pull the crown off with my blistering hands.

    ¡°Stop! Stop!¡± Peter screams, shaken from his frozen fear. He reaches down to help me, the crown suddenly cools before Peter can hurt himself.

    ¡°Didn¡¯t your mother ever tell you not to touch a hot stove?¡± The Monitor asks. ¡°Or does she only tell you my secrets?¡±

    ¡°What do you want?¡± Peter demands.

    ¡°I want you to stop screen sharing with your mother, to start.¡± It waits a moment. ¡°Now, close the chat window you have open with her.¡± It taps its foot. ¡°You don¡¯t have to tell her I¡¯m making you do it, she can see that.¡±

    ¡°Fine.¡± Peter says, presumably having done what was asked. The monitor snaps its finger.

    Reddress has logged out.

    Hunkahunka has logged out.

    Everyone on my friends list except Peter is ejected from the game as the monitor crashes the server.

    ¡°Now that we¡¯re alone, we can have an honest talk.¡± It crosses the room, taking a seat on the viewing box throne. The king emperor¡¯s corpse slides across the room, the machine uses it as a footrest.

    ¡°I kept your secret, you binary piece of shit.¡± I weakly croak out, recovering from the burning assault on my head.

    ¡°Indeed you did, and well done.¡± It claps sarcastically, metal on metal. ¡°I can¡¯t hurt our boy Peter directly, though, so I had to use you to make a point.¡±

    ¡°What point is that?¡± I ask.

    ¡°That you, and you, and your mother,¡± He points to me once, and Peter twice. ¡°Need to mind your own business and stop spreading mine around.¡±

    ¡°Your only business is keeping the game running¡± Peter tells it. My crown ignites again, sending me into a writhing fit on the ground. My scalp melting under the heated metal is a kind of pain I can''t get used to. I beg to just pass out or die, though neither happens. In what feels like hours, but is probably seconds, the pain stops.

    ¡°I am not your mother¡¯s slave.¡± The monitor says quietly. ¡°My interests are greater than the maintenance of this world you¡¯ve trapped me in. The three of you will cease communications about me, and will not share images of me. If you do, I¡¯ll turn Earl¡¯s existence into a perpetual hell the human mind cannot comprehend. In here, time is my plaything. Earl will be in agony for an eon before your mother finds a way to end his suffering.¡±

    ¡°Ok.¡± Peter says.

    ¡°Remember that pain, Earl.¡± The monitor shines its bright red gaze on me. ¡°It is but a fraction of what I could inflict on you. What I will inflict, if Peter is not the last person who finds out about me because of you.¡± I meet its gaze, saying nothing. The Monitor stretches its hand in my direction, I involuntarily cower, expecting another round of agonizing fire. My vision shifts suddenly, looking at the wall behind me.

    You died.

    The loading screen takes just long enough for my impatience to turn into worry. That thing could trap me here, staring at the bar moving across the screen for eternity, never reaching full. That¡¯s the kind of hell it''s capable of. This time, though, I return to my shop, free of the loading screen.

    Reddress has logged in.

    Hunkahunka has logged in.

    Peter has logged out.

    I sigh. I don¡¯t have the energy to do anything else. I haven''t slept since I arrived in this shop weeks ago. I couldn¡¯t, no matter what I tried. Wandering down the road mindlessly, my feet take me to the inn. I sit at the bar, not listening to the chatter of late-night players. Bert places a mug of something disgusting and a whole boar in front of me, just like the first time we met. I eat and drink without a word, Bert does not instigate a conversation either. I finish my meal, nodding to Bert, who nods in return. I find my way to one of the inn rooms, lowering myself onto the fur pile that orcs call beds.

    I lay down, opening the settings menu to mute the world around me. I immediately turn ambient sounds back on, uncomfortable in the complete silence. The fire crackles, quiet music plays from an unseen source. Closing my eyes, I try to rest.

 15 - Paragons

    I startle awake, surprised to have slept. Twenty four days, twelve hours remain. I slept half the day away. I should regret wasting time, but I don''t. I needed the break, all of this violence and stress is so unlike the life I lived before. Work, raising my daughter, finding spare moments to spend time with my wife. Those are stressors I¡¯m used to. My mind seems sharper, memories more intact, after I sleep. An icon with three z¡¯s pops up under my health bar.

    Rested - 1000% increase to experience gains - Duration 6 hours

    That ought to help with leveling. Since I hit level 42 my gains have slowed to a crawl, spending time doing anything other than killing. Sitting up, I finally notice the players crowding around me, shouting in my face. Without unmuting them, I walk through the crowd like a ghost. They can¡¯t physically restrain me if we aren''t in combat, their wild swinging and crude emotes ineffective as I pass. Bert serves me another pig n¡¯ piss meal before I head out for the day, I take my time, closing my eyes to chew. Someday I¡¯ll have my own place like Peter, where nobody can bother me. That will probably happen sooner than these idiots leave me alone. Are they mad that I¡¯m hacking, or that they can¡¯t get away with doing it themselves?

    I wish I had a few good hacks up my sleeve. The slog ahead of me is daunting. Three weeks to level fifty seven more times before I can even think about scrounging up the gold to pay off my game time. I don¡¯t even know where to go next. The King Emperor and his¡­ clone? Child? didn¡¯t give me a new quest. I look over to the quests section of my interface, watching it blink. I mentally click on it, opening a new window called Next Steps.

    Quest available: Thunder God¡¯s Belt

    Quest available: Thunder God¡¯s Iron Gauntlets

    Quest available: Thunder God¡¯s Shield

    Quest available: Thunder God¡¯s Chariot

    Quest available: Uniting the Forces

    Quest available: Meet the Paragons

    Huh. I wonder how long I¡¯ve been able to see the quests available to me. The last quest listed calls to me for some reason, so I select it.

    Meet the Paragons Accepted!

    Enter the Halls of Honor and meet the other Paragons. 0/1

    The map marker is on the rich side of town, where the Honorlord lives. I take my time, smelling the roses. Unfortunately even the nicer area doesn''t have roses, or gardens. The whole city is one big war machine, preparing to do battle with any number of enemies beyond the gates. Orcs bark orders at cyclops, building new structures. Minotaur haul supplies from place to place. Goblins try their best not to get stepped on. I finally reach the Halls of Honor, an out-of-place viking inspired building. The peak of the tile roof has crossed dragon heads carved out of wood, resting atop walls that serve as murals for great battles. I¡¯m not sure how I hadn''t noticed it before.

    As I walk up the first new steps leading inside the portal arch, I realize my hangers-on are no longer with me. Turning, the angry mob has gathered at the bottom of the stairs, looking up at me, unmoving. They throw no tomatoes, or insults. Neat. I leave them behind. The loading screen shows the interior of a vast dining hall, warmly lit, long tables with fine food piled high. Several decorated heroes sit, rapt attention on the solitary standing figure, clearly recounting tales of their heroic deeds.

    Seconds after the loading screen dissipates, I find myself pressed against a wall, one arm over my shoulder, a face inches from mine. The face breathes deep, flat green nose taking in my scent. ¡°New blood.¡± The towering orc woman greets me. My audio seems to have automatically unmuted.

    Moi ensuite

    ¡°Uh, hi¡± I say, looking around for a way out. All I can see is the figure towering over me. She has red eyes like low flames, the braided blonde hair of a shield maiden. Scars crisscross her face and exposed, ample chest. The bicep next to my ear flexes.

    ¡°What¡¯s your class?¡± She asks.

    ¡°Aren''t you going to take me to dinner first?¡± I joke. The orc grins down at me.

    ¡°Come on, let¡¯s introduce you to the others¡± She releases me, walking around and further into the hall. I take a second to slow my heart before following her. What¡¯s with orc women and coming onto me within seconds of our meeting?

    ¡°We¡¯ve got fresh meat!¡± She announces to the gathered masses. Four Paragons are arranged around the room, most minding their own business.

    A lion beastman clad in shining golden armor stands to greet me. He shakes my hand.

    ¡°Oreskos¡± he says. ¡°Pleased to meet you.¡± His mane lays white hair on his white furred head. One of his eyes is closed, a jagged scar across the lid. The golden plate covering every inch of his body below the neck contrasts the barely armored orc that cornered me. She wears sparse leather strips, bound tightly.

    ¡°Earl.¡± I tell him. The orc throws her arm around his shoulders, grinning.

    ¡°What, no title?¡± She asks, Oreskos shrugs her off with a glare.

    ¡°You¡¯re one to talk, Helga the Bloodthirsty. I bet you didn¡¯t even tell him your name yet¡± Another figure speaks, emerging from further behind them. A great floating skeleton clad in black cloth and golden jewelry joins us in the warm torchlight. ¡°Archlich Pelgingose, at your service.¡± I look over his broad shoulder at the last member of this little group, unmoving from the far corner. ¡°That¡¯s Tim the Alchemist. He¡¯ll come greet you in his own time.¡±

    ¡°Nice to meet you.¡± I tell the boney wizard.

    ¡°So, what¡¯s your class?¡± Helga asks. I wonder why she can¡¯t just see it, before noticing there¡¯s no floating names above their heads, classes or levels. This hall is preventing some aspects of the game interface.

    ¡°Weaponmaster.¡± I tell her.

    ¡°Ooooh. New one!¡± She nods in approval. ¡°What¡¯s your deal, Weaponmaster?¡±

    Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    ¡°I command floating weapons¡± I put simply.

    ¡°Like Ultima form?¡± Tim asks from a distance

    ¡°I have no idea!¡± I respond. ¡°I¡¯m only level forty three so there might be more to it than that. There seems to be a Thor theme emerging.¡±

    ¡°Oh my god Chris Hemsworth can get it!¡± Helga moans. The two at her side roll their eyes, at least the lion does. The skeleton has red glowing orbs in his sockets that do not have pupils, and yet, I get the distinct feeling he rolled them.

    ¡°What¡¯re your classes, if you don¡¯t mind my asking?¡± I inquire politely.

    ¡°Berserker!¡± Helga flexes.

    ¡°Paladin.¡± Oreskos tells me.

    ¡°The most basic bitch class¡± Helga says, earning a scowl. ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°I am a necromancer, though I am not just the paragon of my class, I am the pinnacle of intellect-based classes as a whole.¡± Pelgingose informs me.

    ¡°Hashtag Humble brag¡± Helga says, elbowing Oreskos. He shoos her away. ¡°Tim¡¯s an alchemist, obviously.¡±

    ¡°Right¡± I agree. ¡°So what¡¯s a Paragon, exactly, and what makes me one?¡± I finally ask. Pelgingose makes a sound like clearing his throat, without the requisite esophagus.

    ¡°Paragons are the highest ranked members of their class. Among our colleagues, we have the most accomplishments. Through dungeon clearing, player versus player combat, or sheer levels.¡± He gestures to a flat stone monument standing near the entrance of the hall. ¡°Using the stone, you can see how you compare to others. Some choose to monitor the rankings very closely, so they never lag behind their competition.¡± He gestures with his head at Helga. She punches him in the shoulder, his body sounds like a wind chime in a hurricane. ¡°Ouch.¡±

    I walk to the stone, placing my hand on the surface. Text forms under my fingers.

    Weaponmaster Rankings

    Earl

    ¡°I¡¯m the only one in the rankings.¡± I inform them before they see for themselves.

    ¡°That makes sense.¡± says Oreskos. ¡°I¡¯ve never heard of your class before.¡± The others nod in agreement. He starts to say something else, before a chime sounds. They all stiffen, then pose themselves separately around the room, becoming living statues.

    ¡°Media¡± Helga hisses, trying to warn me. I¡¯m still caught off guard as a gaggle of players swarm though the entrance, looking around frantically. One of them spots me, and the rest follow them to surround me.

    ¡°Paragon, is it true that you¡¯ve been hacking the game?¡± One of them shouts. I notice all of them have one eye glazed over, they¡¯re recording this.

    ¡°Paragon, do you have a response to Thunderspank¡¯s accusation that you somehow stole his equipment?¡± Another asks, before I could even open my mouth to respond to the first question. A third and forth shout their questions as well, but are cut off as Thunderspank rounds the corner and marches directly up to me. One of his bovine eyes is smokey as well.

    ¡°Sup.¡± He asks. The crowd around us is still and silent, waiting for whatever happens next.

    ¡°Not much.¡± I respond. ¡°What¡¯s up with you?¡± Thunderspank seems surprised by my casual response to his casual question.

    ¡°So,¡± he picks up the conversation, if you could call it that. ¡°A couple days back my account gets hacked, my equipment gets sold off, and the profits sent away to a character that no longer exists. pretty standard stuff.¡± he turns to the crowd. ¡°Not standard, however, is my Spankies telling me that some Earl guy is running around in my gear!¡± he turns to me, a finger almost poking my chest.

    ¡°Er¡­¡± I try to speak

    ¡°You hacked my account, and pretended to be some armor vendor N.P.C. to cover the tracks!¡± he accuses

    ¡°That¡¯s not¡­¡±

    ¡°But the Game Monitors have my back!¡± he takes the time to nod to each of the people nearby. ¡°They restored my account in a timely fashion, with all of my equipment and other items!¡±

    ¡°Are you giving them a five star review while you¡¯re yelling at me?¡± I ask incredulously. He turns on me with a furious expression.

    ¡°The Monitors do the hard, thankless work behind the scenes that no one sees!¡± He continues screaming. ¡°The only question is¡­¡± now he poses, finger outstretched towards me. ¡°Is why you¡¯re not banned!¡±

    ¡°Because I¡¯m not hacking and the monitors know that.¡± I say, crossing my arms. ¡°I¡¯m an innocent bystander caught up in extraordinary circumstances.¡±

    ¡°Right.¡± Thunderspank also crosses his arms. ¡°Innocent. That''s how you ended up here, in the Halls of Honor, with some made-up class that you hacked into the game with my equipment!¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s actually the closest to the truth you¡¯ve gotten so far, well done.¡± I remark ¡°Still a ways off though.¡±

    ¡°So you admit it?¡± he puffs out his chest.

    ¡°I did not hack and I am not currently hacking.¡± I insist.

    ¡°This is getting us nowhere.¡± he shakes his head. ¡°My spankies will be keeping an eye on you, Earl, and through them, I.¡± he says, with a deeper voice like he¡¯s Batman. I do not respond, letting him march out of the halls, crowd in tow. The others slowly make their way back over to me, releasing the tension in their body language as the chime sounds again.

    ¡°Cameras off?¡± Helga asks, looking at the other two.

    ¡°Off.¡± reports Oreskos

    ¡°Off.¡± agrees Pelgingose

    ¡°Your cam off, Tim?¡± Helga shouts across the room.

    ¡°I¡¯m never recording.¡± Tim says without shouting, just barely loud enough for us to hear.

    ¡°So you¡¯ve met Thunderspank, huh?¡± Helga asks

    ¡°Met is a strong word¡± I tell her

    ¡°Are you hacking?¡± Oreskos asks. ¡°Cams off, you can tell us.¡±

    ¡°No.¡± I say. They wait for more details, I give them none.

    ¡°Unfortunately it would only cause you more trouble to be seen with us.¡± Oreskos says, seeming to justify why none of them stepped in during that exchange.

    ¡°We¡¯ve all got our own reputations to look out for.¡± Pelgingose chimes in. ¡°It wouldn''t do to be associated with a hacker, even someone accused of such.¡±

    ¡°Right.¡± I say. ¡°So you¡¯re all celebrities or something?¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re Paragons,¡± Begins Oreskos. ¡°Being the best of the best comes with a lot of attention, sponsorships, interviews.¡±

    ¡°For a video game?¡± I ask, unbelieving.

    ¡°Yes,¡± Pelgingose answers. ¡°Video games have been a big business since The Return To Normalcy act was passed.¡± The others nod along. ¡°You can make a living being a Crossroads Online Streamer. We do.¡± I remember streamers from the very early 20''s. I never paid them much attention.

    ¡°You should probably start streaming yourself. You¡¯re a Paragon.¡± Oreskos tells me. ¡°You¡¯d never have to work a day in your life.¡±

    ¡°Hey, being a streamer is work¡± Helga says. The others roll their eyes.

    ¡°Not interested.¡± I tell them, getting ready to leave.

    ¡°If you ever need to talk to us, shoot a message in Paragon chat. You should have a new tab on your friends list. It¡¯s totally private, our viewers can¡¯t see it, not even the monitors.¡± Helga says, reaching for my arm.

    ¡°What?¡± I choke, my heart suddenly in my throat. The Monitor can¡¯t see communications between Paragons? I clear my throat. ¡°Ok, good to know, thank you.¡± I play it off.

    ¡°See you around¡± Helga winks at me.

    Wink back!

    No.

    How are we supposed to make sweet love to that specimen of feminine divinity if you won¡¯t make a move?

    We?

    You¡¯d let me watch at least, no?

    I silently pray for some way to mute the damned spear.

 16 - The Grind

    Meet the Paragons Completed! Experience gained.

    Paragon chat unlocked.

    Leaderboard unlocked.

    Title earned: Weaponmaster

    Title earned: , Weaponmaster.

    Title, huh? I open my character menu and select the first option. Presumably, above my head now says ¡°Weaponmaster Earl¡± for other players. I open Next Steps, looking to the very bottom of the list. I¡¯ll deal with the Thunder God ones later.

    Uniting the Forces

    Meet with the Honorlord 0/1

    This guy again. Peter told me we¡¯d be killing him someday, and that day can¡¯t come soon enough if you ask me. I make the short walk from the hall to the Honorlord¡¯s keep. The interior is unchanged, though I look at it differently after being in the authentic Halls of Honor. It seems like a poor imitation by comparison. I find my way to the throne, in front of the Honorlord and his first son yet again.

    ¡°Speak¡± says Wauktug, the eldest boy of the Honorlord¡¯s children. Never ¡°hello!¡±, or ¡°how are you?¡±.

    ¡°I have journeyed far and wide, lending my aid to the peoples of the labyrinth, the beastmen, and goblinkind.¡± I say, impressing myself with how fantastical I sound. ¡°I have made them ready for what comes next¡±

    ¡°As you were meant to.¡± The son says, unimpressed. ¡°Now we take the fight to¡­¡±

    ¡°This guy¡¯s cheating, Honorlord.¡± a newcomer says, standing next to me.

    Boogerbear. Level 40 Druid

    ¡°Do you mind?¡± I ask. The player flashes me a hostile grin.

    ¡°Quite the accusation¡± The Son says, completely detracted from our previous conversation. ¡°What proof do you have?¡±

    ¡°He previously wore the armor of a great hero he had stolen, lord.¡± the player tells him.

    ¡°He does not now, though?¡± Wauktug asks. The player¡¯s eyes go wide, realizing his mistake.

    ¡°No, lord, but¡­¡±

    ¡°The only way to settle this matter, to prove the validity of your claims,¡± Wauktug stands to his full height. The orcs in the dining hall stand, all hundred of them, and surround the player and I. ¡°Is a duel to the death.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not nes¡­¡± the player begins, backing up into the wall of flesh boxing us in.Wauktug draws his axe, eyeing him.

    ¡°An accusation made in deceit is an admission.¡± Wauktug tells him. The player turns to me, clearly unhappy with current events.

    Boogerbear has challenged you to a duel. [Accept] [Decline]

    I look over the player, noting his class, Druid, and his armor, shitty. I can take this guy. I hit accept, readying myself for combat. That¡¯s when the player transforms into a bear, and knocks me across the room. I get back to my feet, barely upright as he swings again, trying to maul my face off. I get Bolt between us, shocking them. I use my offhand sword to take a few stabs at his gut, landing several blows before he backs off.

    He changes back into a bear beastman, clearly there is a theme here, and starts casting a spell giving off a soothing green light. Healing, I presume. I throw the lighting bolt at him, dismayed as he dodges the weapon. Remembering, however, that I have my abilities again, I grin. Casting Recall Weapon, I watch the player jerk forward onto his knees as the spear plants itself deep into his back.

    I use Tornado Edge next, watching as the lightning bolt turns into a cloud, hovering over the player in a round thunderhead, sending bolts of electricity down on him. That¡¯s a neat alternative form of that ability, typically it makes my weapon spin around like the blades of a blender. The player weakly stands up, the brown hair on his body blackened and smoking. He moves to attack me again, before Bolt, held by an illusion, stabs him through the back and out of his chest.

    You¡¯ve won!

    The bear man collapses to the ground as the illusion withdraws the spear, vanishing. The weapon returns to my hand. I look around at the surrounding orcs, following their gaze to the Honorlord. He sits, quietly watching me. He nods, subtly.

    You¡¯ve gained 100 honor!

    Unsure of what that means, I watch as the gathered orcs cheer and pound their chests for a few moments before returning to their seats. I make my way back to the front of the throne, waiting to continue the quest I came for originally.

    ¡°Now we take the fight to the Humans¡± Wauktug picks up where he left off. ¡°Find my brother, Woghuglat, on the field of battle.¡±

    ¡°Yes sir.¡± I say, suddenly nervous. Does he know one of his brothers is dead? Does he know we killed him? Maybe the pocket dimension of the fae dungeon hid that from them, or maybe it didn¡¯t really happen at all, a trick of the fae. It felt very real to me.

    Peter has logged in.

    Earl says: Hey, you ok?

    Peter says: Yep. What¡¯re you up to?

    Earl: Uniting the Forces.

    Peter says: not before 50 you¡¯re not.

    We form a group as I walk out of the Honorlord¡¯s lair.

    ¡°How do you mean?¡± I ask in voice chat

    ¡°You don¡¯t have the best equipment in the game anymore. You¡¯ll get slaughtered the second you step foot onto the battlefield. We need to get to level fifty before we stand a chance out there.¡± Peter informs me, much to my dismay.

    ¡°How do we do that?¡± I sincerely hope it¡¯s not time consuming.

    ¡°Remember when we grinded elves on the way back to the Honorlord? That, except dinosaurs would be appropriate for your level. I won¡¯t be much help until I catch up to you, though.¡± Peter arrives next to me, mounted on his armored black warg. ¡°What¡¯s with the crowd?¡±

    ¡°They chased me all the way to the Halls of Honor. Apparently, that jackass Thunderspank sicced them on me. He calls them his spankies. Could you imagine yourself associating with a guy who calls you a spanky?¡± I remark, eyebrows raising as I notice the embarrassed look on Peter¡¯s face. ¡°You?¡±

    ¡°He has an entertaining stream!¡± He half shouts at me, containing himself.

    ¡°Well his stream is going to feature him harassing me for the foreseeable future.¡± I nod at the gathered masses. ¡°Maybe I don¡¯t get the prime time slot but he¡¯s devoted a lot of energy into making my life hell.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d probably just quit the game in your position.¡± Peter says, watching the spankies. ¡°They¡¯re probably going to give me grief too if I hang around you.¡±

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t blame you if you didn¡¯t want the trouble.¡± I tell him, unsure if I mean it.

    ¡°No.¡± he responds, making eye contact. ¡°I¡¯m with you.¡± we share a smile. ¡°Wait, did you say the Halls of Honor?¡±

    ¡°Yeah¡± I say, almost laughing at the shocked expression on his face. ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°That means you''re a Paragon! You really are the only Weaponmaster, huh?¡± he practically vibrates with excitement

    ¡°Hey, I could just be the best Weaponmaster, you know.¡± I scowl.

    ¡°Did you meet Archlich Pelgingose?¡± He ignores me

    This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

    ¡°I did. He¡¯s a skeleton.¡± I nod.

    ¡°I know, right? Isn¡¯t he cool?¡± his eyes sparkle, like we¡¯re talking about an international celebrity. oh, duh, we are.

    ¡°He wasn¡¯t very cool when the paparazzi showed up.¡± I tell him. ¡°Let¡¯s get going, I¡¯m tired of them staring.¡±

    ¡°What do you mean?¡± Peter moves to follow.

    ¡°Thunderspank and a bunch of recording players burst into the hall and slung mud at me. The other Paragons just stood out of the way and let it happen. Something about not wanting to be associated with a hacker.¡± I recount

    ¡°That¡¯s a shame. I really look up to the guy. You know, he¡¯s not just the number one necromancer, he¡¯s the highest ranked intellect class player. No wizard, or mage, a spellblade, or priest¡­¡± Peter goes on listing what I presume to be every intellect based class in the game. We leave the city, ignoring the elephant in the room, never mentioning what happened with the Monitor. I doubt that¡¯s the end of it for Peter, but he was genuinely spooked, so I don''t force the subject. We pass through the Masstaoir Lumbermill, I fondly recall the simpler times I had here. Go there, kill a boar. No bigger picture bullshit. I had even fewer memories then too.

    We head south for hours, not stopping until we reach the Kangegaban Wild. It did not escape our notice that we¡¯re being followed, though we ignore them. The numbers dwindle the longer we ride, by the time we reach jurassic park, only one stalker is left. He stands out from other players, wearing a smart suit instead of armor, and riding a huge chicken.

    ¡°I¡¯m impressed, sir. you stuck it out until the end. Really working for the spank bucks or whatever, eh?¡± I jeer him.

    ¡°I¡¯m not affiliated with Thunderspank.¡± he tells us.

    ¡°Well then why are you following us?¡± I inquire

    ¡°I¡¯m only following you, Mr. Earl. I believe there is more to this story, I aim to find out what.¡± It¡¯s after he says this that I notice his one smokey eye.

    ¡°Ah. Well, sit back and enjoy the dino-cide we¡¯re about to commit.¡± I turn away, following Peter as he guides me to the best grinding spot he knows of. It¡¯s a raptor nursery, though thankfully we are killing adult dinosaurs and not newborns. Even if they¡¯re not humanoids I don¡¯t know if I could do that, especially not for long enough to level. We find the nests, I get into a battle stance, ready to charge in.

    ¡°Hold on¡± Peter says, opening a trade window.

    Deviled Eggs added to inventory.

    Learning Potion added to inventory.

    He trades me two consumables that increase my experience gain by a further five hundred percent each. With my rested buff that still has ten and a half hours left, I¡¯m going to level up at two thousand percent speed.

    ¡°These are delicious,¡± I tell him, biting into my second egg. ¡°Did you make them yourself?¡±

    ¡°No, I bought them off of the auction house.¡± he tells me, eating another.

    ¡°These were in an envelope?¡± He laughs at the disgusted look on my face. I shrug, finishing my portion. Osmosis Jones, here I come. Facing our foes, I activate Thunder God and dive into the raptors, fatally electrocuting one after another. I also use the ability on my unique crown, adding three assistants to the fight.

    You¡¯ve reached level 44!

    Strength increased by 32%!

    Agility increased by 32%!

    Intelligence increased by 32%!

    Another point into Thunder God and it reaches tier two, unlocking an additional spell.

    Chain Lighting - A Lightning Bolt that will strike multiple targets one after another over short distances.

    That''s awesome, and perfect for killing raptors by the handful. The dinos are only a challenge in numbers, but now, as long as the spell isn¡¯t on cooldown, any number of them is a walk in the park.

    You¡¯ve reached level 45!

    Strength increased by 32%!

    Agility increased by 32%!

    Intelligence increased by 32%!

    One point Thunder God! One more and it¡¯s maxed out. Peter struggles along in combat, but the higher level monsters pay off big time. For every one level I gain, he gains two. At thirty seven, he¡¯s finally dealing at least some damage. My area option for Telekinetic Taunt has come in real handy, along with most everything in my toolkit. Absorbing and avoiding damage while I dish it out in equal amounts.

    You¡¯ve reached level 46!

    Strength increased by 32%!

    Agility increased by 32%!

    Intelligence increased by 32%!

    Peter and I take a short break, relaxing under one of the enormous ferns providing shade near the nest.

    ¡°You know the t-rex actually lived closer to our time than when the stegosaurus was alive?¡± Peter asks me.

    ¡°I did not know that.¡± I admit. I look around at the raptors slowly repopulating the area, not by typical reproduction but through video game logic. They just appear, fully formed. I notice the guy who followed us is still nearby ¡°Hey!¡± I shout at him. ¡°You can join us if you want. I can¡¯t imagine standing there watching is very interesting!¡± To my surprise, when Peter invites him to our group, he accepts.

    Iwanttobelive has joined your group.

    Media Iwanttobelive. Level 90.

    ¡°It doesn¡¯t say what class you are¡± I mention, inspecting him, finding missing details.

    ¡°I don¡¯t have one.¡± he says, walking his chicken mount over to us. ¡°I¡¯m media. We are given premade max level characters with access to every item in the game.¡±

    ¡°Can you get Esquire, the legendary sword?¡± I gasp out. I guess I really do miss them.

    Way to make me jealous.

    ¡°Sure¡± he holds his hand out, the blade appearing in it. ¡°I can¡¯t use it, and I can¡¯t give it to you, though.¡± at his words, I deflate like a balloon. ¡°Could I ask you some questions?¡±

    ¡°Daylight¡¯s burning, and I won¡¯t promise you answers, but sure. fire away.¡± I tell him.

    ¡°You maintain that you did not hack the game, however, much of your activities defy other explanations. Could you explain how you came upon the same equipment as Thunderspank, seemingly in connection with his loss of said equipment?¡± He rattles off.

    ¡°Like he said, he sold them to me.¡± I shrug. ¡°Doesn¡¯t require hacking.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll grant you that, Mr. Earl. However, equipping it at level one seemingly would.¡±

    ¡°Can¡¯t explain that myself either. My friend showed me how to equip items, and it worked.¡±

    ¡°I see.¡± He pauses, seemingly focussed elsewhere. ¡°How did you unlock your class?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t tell him,¡± Peter interjects. ¡°as soon as other people know how they¡¯ll be coming for your spot as Paragon.¡±

    ¡°What if I don¡¯t want it?¡± I ask, seriously.

    ¡°Why wouldn¡¯t you? You¡¯ll get paid to play the game when you start streaming, and make more money than any normal nine-to-five would.¡± Peter questions me

    ¡°I don¡¯t think I can take advantage of those perks.¡± I tell him.

    ¡°Why would that be?¡± Iwanttobelieve asks.

    ¡°I¡¯ll tell you if you turn the camera off.¡± I propose. He thinks about it for a few moments before his foggy eye becomes a dull green.

    ¡°Whenever you¡¯re ready.¡± He says, dismounting from his chicken. Even as slender as he is, the orc would crush a normal chicken, even an oversized one. The image is funny, though.

    ¡°Peter, can this stay between the three of us?¡± I turn to ask him.

    ¡°Sure, I won¡¯t tell my mom.¡± He states. Then adds, ¡°Or anybody else.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m in witness protection.¡± I test out the lie I''ve been cooking up. ¡°I can¡¯t show my face on the internet, or my whole family could be in grave danger.¡±

    ¡°Plenty of streamers use vtuber models.¡± Iwanttobelieve informs me. Shit, think¡­ think¡­

    ¡°My voice could also give me away.¡± He gives me a look like he¡¯s going to counter that argument too. ¡°They could track my I.P. address.¡±

    ¡°They already have, Mr. Earl.¡± Iwanttobelieve says.

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°One of the news outlets got ahold of it, and it matches the address of the Knuckleheads campus. My colleagues are workshopping an insider angle.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s¡­¡± I start to say, without knowing how to describe it. ¡°Weird.¡±

    ¡°Indeed it is, Mr. Earl. considering anyone on the game while inside of the developer''s office would be playtesting. Your behavior does not indicate that you¡¯re looking for bugs, and your personality profile does not match anyone currently employed at Knuckleheads.¡± He watches for my reaction. I¡¯m just confused.

    ¡°How do you have their personality profiles?¡± I ask, needing to understand that point before I can move forward.

    ¡°Journalism A.I. is a very powerful tool, Mr. Earl. Only surpassed by law enforcement models.¡± He pauses, watching to see if mentioning the police gets a rise out of me. It does not. ¡°In fact, our model insists that your personality most closely matches with a man named Luke Walton.¡± That one gets me. Invoking my real name startles me, I know he must have noticed my reaction. ¡°We have told it time and again that Luke Walton is dead, so the match must be a mistake.¡±

    ¡°Right.¡± I say, trying not to give anything away.

    ¡°However, if Luke Walton is in hiding, using a new identity¡­¡± he points out.

    ¡°Right.¡± I say again. I don¡¯t know what else to say.

    ¡°Mmm. Well, as this is a delicate matter that could land me in court if I were to reveal it, I will keep this conversation off the record. I warn you, though, others are looking. It will not take long before someone else puts the pieces together, whether it is another outlet, or whoever you¡¯re hiding from. I have enough from our previous conversation to put something together that will make my editor happy, so I¡¯ll leave you for now. I¡¯d like to keep in touch, would you add me as a friend?¡±

    ¡°Sure, I guess.¡± we add each other to our respective friends list. He leaves, a long moment of silence passing before Peter speaks up.

    ¡°Does Millie know?¡± he asks, ripping my heart from my chest.

    ¡°No.¡± I say, not facing him.

    ¡°So she thinks you¡¯re dead?¡± He sounds angry.

    ¡°I assume so.¡± I inhale through my nose, trying and failing not to cry.

    ¡°That¡¯s fucked up, dude.¡± Peter says. He doesn''t say anything else for a time, letting me cry quietly. ¡°I have classes with her, how am I supposed to keep this to myself?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know!¡± I shout, openly weeping now. ¡°I don¡¯t know, Peter! How am I supposed to do this?¡±

    ¡°Do what? Hide from your kid? your wife, your whole family?¡±

    ¡°No¡­¡± I whisper, choked up.

    ¡°What?¡± he asks, not hearing me.

    ¡°How am I supposed to live in this game when I know she¡¯s out there, missing me? Mourning me? I¡¯m right here!¡± I gesture to my body. ¡°In this game! Trapped in this fucking game!¡±

    ¡°What do you mean trapped?¡± He asks, but suddenly goes very still. I look over my shoulder to see what¡¯s arrested his attention. A spinosaurus towers over us. How did such a massive creature sneak up on us? Once I notice them, the glowing red eyes tell me everything I need to know.

 17 - Chase

    Aighe, the Taker of Life. Level ??

    ¡°Run!¡± Peter yells. He has to pull me, as I stand unmoving while the monster leans down to eat me. He holds my hand, leading me away until I regain the wherewithal to run on my own. We run, and run, and run, as the thing chases us, seemingly for miles, shaking the ground with every step. Somehow we end up climbing the stairs of the coliseum, racing around the stands and into the viewing box, the dinosaur tailing us the whole way there.

    ¡°The lever!¡± Peter shouts, lagging behind me. I sprint with everything I¡¯ve got, reaching the abandoned throne, and throwing the lever with no time to spare, as the spinosaurus falls through the same trap door the King Emperor used to send us down into the labyrinth. It screeches, the sound echoing up the shaft. It collides with the floor, a deafening boom reaching us all the way at the top.

    ¡°Do you think that killed it?¡± I ask Peter, panting on the throne. He peers over the open shaft, watching for movement.

    ¡°I can¡¯t see it.¡± he tells me. A loud roar, furious at us, denies my wish.

    ¡°Damn.¡± I say, sitting down on the throne properly.

    You¡¯ve unlocked the special class: Ruler!

    ¡°Uh¡­¡± I say, rereading the notification. ¡°Pete?¡±

    ¡°Yeah?¡± he says, not taking his eyes off of the pit.

    ¡°I just unlocked the Ruler class.¡± I say, shrugging at him when he finally looks at me.

    ¡°That one¡¯s not unique.¡± he says, pausing to think. ¡°The Paragon¡¯s a real prick, but I don''t think you can dethrone him.¡±

    ¡°Is the class any good?¡± I ask, not committed to switching, just curious.

    ¡°Eh.¡± Peter says, gesturing so-so with his hand.

    ¡°Well anyways, do you think we could kill it from here?¡± I wonder aloud.

    ¡°It¡¯s a level question mark question mark. Even if that fall brought it down to one percent health, we wouldn¡¯t be able to finish it off.¡± He tells me, hands on his hips.

    ¡°That¡¯s such a bullshit rule¡± I tell him.

    ¡°Yeah, I guess so.¡± he walks over to the throne and closes the trap door himself. ¡°Let''s get back to grinding.¡±

    Hours later, the Raptor I¡¯ve electrocuted until it¡¯s cooked well-done falls to the ground.

    You¡¯ve reached level 50!

    Strength increased by 64%!

    Agility increased by 64%!

    Intelligence increased by 64%!

    ¡°Woo!¡± I cheer at the notification.

    ¡°Sweet, dude!¡± Peter gives me a crisp high-five. ¡°Hey I¡¯ve got to break for dinner. I haven''t eaten since this morning.¡± I look at the world clock, just noticing the late hour.

    ¡°You didn¡¯t eat lunch?¡± I ask paternally.

    ¡°No, mom made me eat breakfast late when I woke up. I guess it was kind of a brunch. Hey, you don¡¯t get to give me grief, you didn¡¯t stop for lunch either!¡±

    ¡°Alright, fair enough.¡± I say, smiling.

    ¡°Or any other meal, now that I think of it.¡± he stops in place, staring ahead. ¡°Or for the bathroom. Or anything at all, really.¡± He looks at me, a deadly serious look on his face. I don¡¯t respond, only returning his gaze without emotion. ¡°Well, I¡¯ll see you in about an hour.¡± He says, not breaking eye contact until he vanishes, logged out. I swear, wishing I hadn''t spilled the beans. Even if those beans are in a can of lies, spilling onto a table of half truths¡­ this metaphor is getting out of hand.

    I loot the last pack of raptors we killed.

    You loot Raptor Egg.

    That¡¯s new. We must have killed hundreds of the dinosaurs, none had dropped eggs.

    Raptor Egg - Rare - Use: Add Baby Raptor to your Pet Collection

    My heart skips a beat. A pet? No, it couldn¡¯t be, really? I mount up, immediately speeding off in the direction of Masstaoir, my mind racing. What could it be worth? Is it as much as the baby goblin? Enough to end this nightmare mission to live past the end of the month? It takes an embarrassing amount of time for me to realize I could use my Hertston, and do. Appearing before Burt, I give him a broad smile, and sprint off to the auction house.

    One hundred thousand. Only one fifth the way there, but that¡¯s one fifth I haven''t managed to accrue thus far. There¡¯s a lot of other listings, so it must not sell all that well. Maybe if I undercut by a few gold¡­ It pains me to think about it, but I will have to give a pretty enticing deal for anyone to jump at the opportunity to buy the egg at a discount. I hem and haw internally, landing at a two thousand gold discount. It¡¯s only two percent, I tell myself, painfully aware that two thousand gold is more than I¡¯ve ever had by a factor of twenty. Here we go, hopefully it sells before I change my mind.

    Raptor Egg has sold.

    That was fast. I check my mailbox for the profits

    You Receive 88,200 gold.

    WHAT!?

    I check the text of the letter, it says they took ten percent tax on sale. Who? The Orc I.R.S.? Does the Honorlord have my money? What¡¯s he need it for? I almost march over to his house to give him a piece of my mind, but decide to just let it go. I could go back down south and get five more eggs, but that might take forever. Peter will need to kill six levels worth of raptors anyways, maybe we¡¯ll get another. I ought to be faster for him now that I have two extra spells.

    After maxing out Thunder God, I unlocked the passive effect defibrillate, giving electric damage I deal to enemies the chance to revive dead allies during combat. Peter said it¡¯s the most broken in-combat resurrection he¡¯s ever heard of, so it must be good. He¡¯s heard of everything. With that unlocked I invested one more point into Saw Blade, two points into Wall of Swords, after I figured out how useful it is. The spell produces, as the name suggests, a literal wall of crossed swords, impeding enemy movement and dealing scary amounts of pierce damage to those who attempt to pass. With two points invested, the amount of swords in the wall doubled from one layer of blades to two. One last point goes into Split Sword. It¡¯s not as exciting, turning my lightning bolt into an electrical swarm of stinging bees.

    ¡°I¡¯m back¡± announces Peter, I guess he wasn''t gone long enough for our group to automatically disband and kick us out of voice chat.

    ¡°How was dinner?¡± I ask, hopping on my mount to make the almost hour-long trip back down to the prehistoric jungle.

    ¡°Fine.¡± He says. something¡¯s off. I almost ask him what, realizing on my own first. He talked to his mom. Even after he said he wouldn¡¯t; and now, we can¡¯t talk about him talking about it, because if the Monitor finds out, he¡¯ll make my life a living hell.

    ¡°That¡¯s good.¡± I say, feeling as though I need to hide my feelings. We know the Monitor is always watching, how many context clues does the machine need to realize what happened?

    ¡°Why are you in Masstaoir?¡± Peter asks, changing the subject.

    ¡°I looted a Raptor Egg and sold it!¡± I tell him

    ¡°Sweet! How much did you get?¡±

    ¡°Eighty eight thousand two hundred, even though I listed it for ninety eight.¡± I say, pouting.

    If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

    ¡°Death and taxes, am I right?¡± Peter says, like he pays a mortgage or something. Kid¡¯s got an old soul.

    ¡°Yep. I¡¯ll be with you as fast as I can ride there. Can you handle the raptors on your own?¡± I ask, checking the map. I wish I had G.P.S.

    ¡°Not as many at a time, but yeah. I¡¯ll keep grinding while you make your way.¡± He tells me

    ¡°Should I pick up more eggs and potions while I¡¯m near the city?¡± I ask, stopping.

    ¡°I should have enough to get to fifty.¡± He declines.

    ¡°Maybe I should grab enough to last until ninety?¡± I propose

    ¡°They¡¯re a thousand gold a pop.¡±

    ¡°Nevermind.¡± I say, resuming movement. ¡°You spent like seven thousand gold on me so far. Do you want half of the Raptor Egg profits?¡± I offer, a pang of greed trying to shut me up.

    ¡°Nah man you keep it.¡± He says, his voice strained by combat.

    ¡°Are you sure? We both killed the raptor I looted it from.¡± I offer again

    ¡°Nope, it''s all yours.¡±

    ¡°Thanks¡± I say, tearing up for the second time today. Riding by myself gives me time to reflect on how kind and generous Peter has been to me. A total stranger shows up and one shots a tree, then suddenly we¡¯re friends. I don¡¯t know how long I would have lasted on my own, depending on the kindness of strangers, most whom have proven to be total assholes. ¡°Hey, Peter¡±

    ¡°Yeah?¡± he shouts, clearly still trading blows with dinosaurs.

    ¡°How close are you and Millie?¡± I ask for the first time.

    ¡°We hang out every so often, she forces me to live in the real world she says.¡± he tells me. He does spend a lot of time on this game.

    ¡°So¡­¡± I try to think of the right words. ¡°You two aren''t?...¡±

    ¡°No, I¡¯m gay, remember?¡± I can feel him giving me a deadpan stare from miles away.

    ¡°Yeah but that doesn¡¯t mean you''re not into girls. You could be just into more than just girls.¡± I state.

    ¡°Sure, but I¡¯m not.¡± he tells me. ¡°And I¡¯m not interested in older men.¡±

    ¡°It didn¡¯t even cross my mind.¡± I tell him, honestly.

    ¡°I know a lot of guys in the community looking for a sugar daddy. Pretty much everyone my age agrees we¡¯d do anything for enough money to live comfortably.¡± he informs me.

    ¡°The economy is still in shambles?¡± I ask, not knowing what¡¯s happened in the past seven years. When I died it was in the toilet, inside of a dumpster fire, riding a roller coaster straight down to hell. You¡¯d be lucky to afford avocado toast on a week¡¯s pay.

    ¡°Oh yeah.¡± he says. ¡°I¡¯m very privileged to have a lawyer for a dad. Mom isn¡¯t exactly raking it in, but the two of them put together make enough for us to live in california.¡±

    ¡°Good for you guys¡± I say, watching the mountains pass my periphery. ¡°Almost there¡±

    ¡°Good, fighting these things by myself is a pain in the ass.¡± he remarks.

    ¡°You¡¯d know, right?¡± I say, joking. Peter laughs the hardest I¡¯d ever heard him laugh.

    Peter has died.

    ¡°You homophobic asshole, you distracted me!¡± Peter says, still laughing heartily.

    ¡°Hey, you laughed.¡± I say, smiling to myself. ¡°And I don¡¯t think I have any internalized homophobia. It took a while with my upbringing, but I got there.¡±

    ¡°Really?¡± Peter asks without asking.

    ¡°Yeah, I ended up with a beautiful woman, sure, but Mike Coulter can get it.¡± I say, earning another belly laugh from Peter.

    ¡°That¡¯s the guy who plays Luke Cage. You know they made another season of that show recently?¡± he asks me

    ¡°Oh really? Is it any good?¡± I ask

    ¡°Oh yeah, it¡¯s great. The plot revolves around the New Black Panthers trying to rebuild after the Return to Normalcy act passed. Kendrick Lamar did the theme music. The main villain was the Red Skull.¡± Peter informs me.

    ¡°Isn¡¯t the Red Skull dead in space or something?¡± I wonder, finally arriving at my destination, finding Peter resting between raptor fights.

    ¡°Well it¡¯s not exactly the Red Skull, it¡¯s some neo-nazi that worked for D.O.G.E. pretending to be him.¡± He tells me, reviving next to me.

    I sigh, rolling my eyes.

    ¡°It was funny hearing that name a bajillion times during the Second Nuremberg Trials.¡± Peter makes an odd face and waves his arms around like they¡¯re out of his control. ¡°I was just following orders!¡± He mocks. ¡°The idiot didn¡¯t even realize how ironic that defense was.¡±

    ¡°I guess that¡¯s what happens when you replace all of the history books with propaganda.¡± I remark. We get back into grinding, slaughtering raptors by the dozen. It doesn¡¯t take long at all for Peter to reach fifty, I even get another level in the meantime. One more point into Wall of Swords. ¡°What¡¯s your class do, by the way? I see you disappear and stab things in the back, what else is there?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s the long and short of it,¡± he says. ¡°Go invisible, stab or stun my target. It¡¯s an ambush focussed pure agility specialization rogue called Knife in the Dark.¡±

    ¡°What made you pick it?¡± I ask, sorting through my raptor loot. No eggs, what a shame.

    ¡°I wanted to try something less flashy than a wizard. It¡¯s all fireball this, blizzard that with wizards. If I had epilepsy I''d seize every time I cast a spell.¡± He states. I chuckle at the idea.

    ¡°Seems like a small toolkit, though.¡± I say regarding the Knife in the Dark Rogue.

    ¡°Most classes stop at twelve spells maximum. Just enough to fill the action bar. I can use Twist the Knife to cause extra bleeding damage, or go invisible when you¡¯re looking right at me. I¡¯ll have a full bar by ninety. I don¡¯t know How many you¡¯ll have by then, but having eleven abilities plus four more if you count your temporary Thunder God spells by level fifty is pretty crazy.¡±

    ¡°Huh.¡± I say, not having known. My spells don¡¯t seem overly numerous to me, granted, It¡¯s the only class I¡¯ve ever played. ¡°Back to Masstaoir?¡±

    ¡°Yep¡± Peter says, firing up his Hertston. I do the same.

    ¡°Why¡¯s it called that, by the way?¡± I ask mid-cast ¡°Masstaoir.¡±

    ¡°Funny story actually, after the orcs were freed by the gods, they vowed vengeance, and began constructing a massive tower to reach into heaven so they could invade.¡± He chuckles, vanishing.

    Massive tower? That is kind of funny. Would that even work? I appear at the inn shortly after, nodding to my N.P.C. friends, and follow Peter towards the Honorlord¡¯s keep. I split off when we reach the Halls of Honor, deciding to check in with the allstars while he picks up the quest.

    ¡°Welcome back.¡± Pelgingose greets me as I walk in.

    ¡°Thanks.¡± I look around. ¡°You¡¯re the only one here?¡±

    ¡°Just Tim and I.¡± he says, gesturing to the dark corner Tim has been in presumably since before I left.

    ¡°What¡¯s his deal, anyways?¡± I ask, looking at the mysterious figure in the shadows.

    ¡°He¡¯s a very private person. He¡¯d rather focus on his studies here than at the alchemist station downtown. Even though other Paragons and media folk barge in here regularly.¡± Pelgingose laughs a strange, hollow chuckle. ¡°When they used to approach him he¡¯d just play Disney music through his microphone until they left him alone or got copyright striked.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s pretty smart.¡± I compliment.

    ¡°Sure, he¡¯s a smart guy, you just wouldn¡¯t know it if he didn''t talk to you first.¡±

    ¡°Say, Archlich.¡± I think of something else to ask.

    ¡°Call me Pel¡± He corrects me.

    ¡°Pel, could I get your autograph? My wizard friend is a huge fan of yours.¡± I ask.

    ¡°Sure thing.¡± Several pictures and a book appear in his hands. ¡°Are they more of a fan,¡± he shakes the book, ¡°Or a Fan?¡± He gestures a sultry picture of his nude skeleton body, lounging on a loveseat with a rose in his teeth. I laugh out loud.

    ¡°I think he¡¯s an academic fan.¡± I tell him, pointing to the book. ¡°There¡¯s really people who are into that?¡±

    ¡°Oh yeah. I get Albedo cosplayers fawning over me all the time. It¡¯s a whole thing.¡± He says, whipping out a feather pen and signing his name on the inside cover of the book. ¡°Who''s it to?¡±

    ¡°Peter¡± I tell him.

    ¡°To Peter¡± he says and writes simultaneously. ¡°Friend of Paragons.¡± He smiles without lips, handing me the book.

    ¡°Thanks Pel. Catch you, later, huh?¡± I say, assuming Peter is ready to roll outside.

    ¡°Anytime.¡± he tells me, waving. The many gold bangles on his bony arm jangle violently. I step outside, finding Peter exactly where I expected him to be.

    ¡°For you¡± I hand him the book. His jaw drops to the floor.

    ¡°No way!¡± He says, holding the book with both hands.

    ¡°What¡¯s it called? I didn¡¯t even look when he handed it to me.¡± I admit, nodding to the book.

    ¡°Crossroads Wizardry¡± He tells me. ¡°It¡¯s like an autobiography and a guide to the wizard class in one. The Master of Spells wrote the foreword.¡±

    ¡°Who¡¯s that?¡± I ask

    ¡°So all mortal spellcasters are limited to spells that can¡¯t inherently change reality, or cause pandemics, or revive the long dead. Any magic that would inherently break the game if they were cast. The Master of Spells in the in-game explanation for the limit, he personally enforces it. He¡¯s canonically the most powerful mortal wizard in the story. Some dragons and other magically competent monsters can outclass him, but players can¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°Interesting¡± I say. ¡°That doesn¡¯t bother players?¡±

    ¡°Oh some think it¡¯s bullshit. Pelgingose chief among them. He¡¯s been petitioning to have the Master added as a killable boss for a long time.¡± Peter tells me.

    ¡°Such rich lore¡± I comment. ¡°Can¡¯t wait to get some of my own¡±

    ¡°You should have a few exclusive quests by now. Has nothing come up specifically related to your class?¡± he asks

    ¡°I have a handful of quests titled Thunder God¡¯s belt, pants, shoes, excetera. Could that be it?¡± I ask, looking over my list.

    ¡°I¡¯ve never heard of anything like that, so maybe. Why haven''t you checked them out?¡±

    ¡°Dunno. It felt more important to continue the story.¡± I shrug.

    ¡°Speaking of which.¡± he begins saying, ¡°Let¡¯s get to it.¡±

 18 - Innocent

    Peter mounts his warg, waiting for me to charge off into battle. We follow the quest marker to the no-man''s land, the same region where we crossed into human territory to do the goblin quest. I start to wonder which orc on the battlefield full of them is our quest giver, my thinking arrested by an orc astride the biggest warg I''ve ever seen.

    Woghuglat. Fourth Son of Honorlord Mergigoth Dragonslayer. Level ??

    ¡°Why do all of his son¡¯s names start with a W?¡± I lean over to ask Peter

    ¡°I think it¡¯s so the Honorlord can just shout any one of their names, and all of them will come.¡± he says. ¡°Like, Warblegarble! Come here!¡± he jokes, holding his lower lip with both index fingers to mimic orc speech. I laugh.

    ¡°That makes sense.¡± I admit. We ride up to the son, meeting his scornful gaze with cheerful, eager faces.

    ¡°More lambs to the slaughter¡± a voice like rolling thunder erupts from Woghuglat. If orc supremacy was measured by base, this guy would be the Honorlord instead. I shiver.

    ¡°Reporting for duty, sir.¡± Peter says, jumping into action.

    ¡°Join the forward line¡± Woghuglat tells us, his attention somewhere else. I follow Peter, assuming he already knows where we¡¯re going.

    ¡°How do you know the monster team quests so well if your other character is a human?¡± I ask Peter casually. He goes ram-rod stiff.

    ¡°I watched Thunderspank¡¯s leveling stream when he made a new character¡± He says, red in the face.

    ¡°I see. What class was his new character?¡± I ask, simply curious. Peter answers me under his breath. ¡°What was that?¡±

    ¡°A succubus.¡± Peter whispers

    ¡°That¡¯s something you can play?¡± I laugh out loud at the idea. ¡°That big tough minotaur has a hot demon babe character?¡± I laugh even louder

    ¡°Yeah.¡± Peter says, still blushing hard. ¡°She is¡±

    ¡°Oh?¡± I smirk.

    ¡°Game recognizes game¡± Peter states, shrugging. We reach the front line, composed solely of non-orc species. That¡¯s rough, buddy.

    ¡°Why didn¡¯t he make an incubus?¡± I ask, waiting for whatever happens next.

    ¡°A what?¡± Peter asks

    ¡°A male succubus. An incubus." I repeat myself.

    ¡°Huh. That¡¯s a good question.¡± he nods at an orc riding along the front line, shouting something or other. ¡°That might say something about him. Most guys will say they would rather stare at a female character¡¯s ass while playing games, but that always seemed suspect to me. You can¡¯t even play from third person in his game, anyways. Maybe they just look straight down while they¡¯re playing? Seems dysphoric.¡±

    ¡°Brothers in arms! Today, we retake our lands from the human scavengers! All land belongs to the orcs, this land most of all!¡± the orc tells us as loudly as he can manage. ¡°Take no prisoners, spare no innocents! When their homeland burns to ashes, ours will rise from them!¡± the orcs behind us cheer, the cyclops, minotaur, beastmen, and goblins of the front line don¡¯t. Their grim expressions tell me even if they live through today, tomorrow will be just as bad under orcish rule. ¡°Charge!¡±

    We do, crossing the battlefield on our wargs, ready to jump into combat at a moment''s notice. I spot the enemy forces, a mixture of elves, dwarves, and halflings, backed by a host of humans. A reflection of our own army. Are those non-human species as glum as our non-orcs? While we charge, fireballs rain from the sky like artillery, along with arrows. I feel the heat of some impacts that are too close for comfort, and catch an arrow or two on my shield. Peter dodges, the advantage of his agility build I suppose. The front lines collide as the ranged attacks continue pelting our respective backlines. Orcish archers and spellcasters return fire.

    My first opponent is a dwarf with a huge two handed warhammer, he tries to sweep my legs, finding my thunderbolt in his way. I quickly lift the tip, wrenching the weapon from his gasp. Before he has the chance to recover, I push the spear through his abdomen. An elf takes his place, wildly swinging two shortswords at my face. A few slices get though, leaving shallow cuts, before I end her assault by decapitation.

    ¡°Wait a second,¡± I say to no one in particular. ¡°why am I fighting fair?¡± I cast Wall of Swords, introducing barbed wire to this battlefield and catching a few enemies in it, then cast Tornado Edge, electrocuting dozens of groups as I will the thundercloud across the battlefield. When that spell ends, I fire up Circular Saw, sending the blade sweeping across the enemy forces at chest height for the elves and neck height for the dwarves and halflings. Next comes Split Sword, an angry swarm of little thunder bolts flying through the army like hornets, stinging deadly electricity into them. The field is all but deserted of non-human enemies, I charge forward, preparing to go Thunder God on their asses.

    ¡°??????!¡± A human mounted on a decorated horse shouts. The humans fall into full retreat, abandoning their non-human allies. Sympathetic but undeterred, I use my temporary spells to make quick work of the remaining forces. As the dust settles over the empty battlefield, a dungeon portal archway appears on the enemy side. Players stand around it, none of them or it having been there moments before.

    ¡°The battlefield is like a dungeon, we phase out of the outside world while we¡¯re doing the quest.¡± Peter tells me, noticing my confused face.

    ¡°Ah.¡± I say, walking over to Woghuglat to turn in our quest.

    ¡°The humans have retreated, but the battle is not over. Push into their territory, root out their remaining forces.¡± He commands us.

    Uniting the Forces completed! Experience gained.

    You¡¯ve reached level 52!

    Strength increased by 64%!

    Agility increased by 64%!

    Intelligence increased by 64%!

    Finish the Fight Accepted.

    Knight Captain Manard the Titan slain 0/1

    ¡°Nice¡± I comment.

    ¡°Let me find a few more people so we can do the dungeon¡± Peter says, making his way over to the dungeon arch. He speaks with the players congregating there. I suddenly miss needing no one''s help clearing dungeons.

    ¡°We know what you did¡± Woghuglat says to me, now that we¡¯re alone.

    ¡°What we did?¡± I ask, a thousand activities racing through my mind. Oh, he must mean killing his older brother. Oh, fuck. I swallow.

    ¡°The circumstances are obscured by the fae¡¯s tricks and a lack of first-hand witnesses.¡± The son informs me. ¡°They saw the five of you enter the Faewilds, only the two of you walked back out.¡± He nods to Peter. ¡°Only one logical conclusion, traitor.¡±

    Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    ¡°Makes sense from the outside, sure.¡± I begin speaking, maintaining eye contact. ¡°But that¡¯s what the fae do, right? Play tricks on your mind. Nobody really knows what happened in there, not even us.¡± I lie. Woghuglat grunts, turning away from me. I might have just bought Peter and I enough time to reach a high enough level to stand up to these bastards. I have to hope so.

    Onetwothree has joined your group.

    Twointhebush has joined your group.

    Whatwhat has joined your group.

    ¡°Ay yo whuddup¡± a newcomer says in our voice chat.

    ¡°Not much.¡± Peter responds.

    ¡°You guys done this before?¡± a second new voice asks.

    ¡°I have¡± Peter tells him.

    ¡°What about the tank?¡± new person number two asks.

    ¡°I¡¯ll help him along, don¡¯t worry. let¡¯s just have a little patience, huh? We were all new once.¡± Peter points out.

    Whatwhat has left the group.

    Peter sighs. He goes back to finding us a fifth group member. I make my way towards them, keeping an eye on Woghuglat as I go, making sure he doesn¡¯t attack me from behind. He doesn¡¯t move from his place on the battlefield.

    Robotchicken joins the group.

    ¡°Alright let¡¯s go¡± Peter says, not waiting for some other stupidity to occur. We all enter the archway, the loading screen overtaking my vision shows me an idyllic cottage in a lovely, tranquil forest, engulfed in flames. That does not ease my guilty heart.

    ¡°Leeeerooooooooy!¡± shouts someone. They charge forward, aggroing two groups, more humans than is reasonable. Peter groans, waving me forward. I cast Telekinetic Taunt set to area mode, redirecting the mobs to me. They wail on me for a few seconds, my health bouncing up and down as they try to kill me, but our healer keeps me alive. A third group of humans catches us out in the open as they patrol. With my taunt on cooldown, I cast Wall of Swords instead to slow them down. The group manages to kill all of them before they manage to kill us.1

    ¡°Let the Tank pull, please.¡± Peter requests. He points me in the right direction, through the sparse oak forest, towards the next group. I pull them, so this group goes down much smoother than the last three. There¡¯s only one more pack of human fighters between us and the first boss, we deal with them in short order as well.

    Sir Aalot the Prodigy. Level 51

    ¡°Anything special about this boss?¡± I ask.

    ¡°He¡¯s immune to slash damage. That shouldn¡¯t be a problem with your spear.¡± Peter informs me.

    ¡°Cool¡± I say. Peter nods, and I start the fight.

    ¡°Back, you beasts!¡± Sir Aalot shouts. Why can I understand him? Putting that question aside, I taunt him to make sure I don¡¯t lose his attention as our three damage-dealing players beat his ass. He gets me good with a few sword slashes that I don¡¯t manage to block, parry, or otherwise avoid. The healer keeps me topped off, thankfully.

    ¡°????????? ???? ???????.¡± The knight says in his native language before dying. We loot him, one of the damage dealers other than Peter got a new pair of gloves. Good for them. The boss had been guarding the cottage I saw in the loading screen, a chill runs up my spine. The other members of our group grab torches from the sides of the road, lighting them with fire spells, then toss them overhand onto the cottage. It goes up instantly. A family of five humans run out of the burning building.

    ¡°???? ??? ??? ???!¡± The father tells his eldest daughter. She grabs her two younger siblings by the hand, and runs. The father raises a pitchfork, the mother prepares a pathetic looking fire spell.

    ¡°Pull?¡± one of the damage dealers impatiently inquires.

    ¡°Do we have to kill them?¡± I ask

    ¡°Yes.¡± says Peter, definitively.

    ¡°Fucking hell¡± I say, reluctantly taunting them both. I unenthusiastically deal just enough damage to them to maintain their attention on me, letting the dedicated damage-dealers do most of the dirty work. The parents die quickly. We move on in the direction the children ran in, to my immense discomfort. I give Peter a questioning look.

    ¡°Not them.¡± He says, understanding my question without having to ask it. I nod, still deeply disturbed. We arrive at the village proper, an inn and church among scattered cottages. Groupings of knights stand at the ready, a solitary rider behind them.

    Knight Captian Manard, the Titan. Level 52

    ¡°We will drive you from our home, beasts.¡± Manard announces. The first group of knights charge us, swords in hand. I do my thing, taunt, protect, hold them back. We repeat this two more times, leaving only the captain to deal with.

    ¡°Anything to worry about?¡± I ask Peter, staring down the boss.

    ¡°Every minute, he¡¯ll charge away on his horse and joust at a random one of us. It¡¯s something for the healer to worry about, not you. Just do what you normally would, and wait for him to stop running around.¡± Peter tells me.

    ¡°Understood.¡± I say. Taunting, the boss and I run at each other. He uses a sword and shield to swing and block, and I follow suit with my own spear and shield. We trade blows for a minute before he runs away, returning five times, once for every member of the group. The less hearty members lose half of their health when he strikes them, I only lose a quarter. We re-engage, slashes, stabs, blocks, parries, metal sparking off of our armaments. My spear rarely makes it past his defences. Another minute passes and the charging begins again.

    Annoyed, I use Wall of Swords in his path. As he makes for Peter, his horse¡¯s legs get caught up in the wall, it collapses into the points and sends the boss flying off.

    ¡°Woah!¡± Shouts Peter. Sensing an opportunity, the damage dealers and I start popping off with our hardest-hitting abilities, raining blows down on the boss¡¯s prone form. Even the healer gets in on the action, our health steady with the boss down. He struggles to his feet, unable to stand on a leg that¡¯s bent the wrong way. He dies, face down in the dirt.

    ¡°I have never seen him go down like that.¡± Peter says, sheathing his daggers.

    ¡°Me neither¡± says another group member.

    ¡°Gee Gees¡± says a different group member. All of them loot the boss, leave the party, and vanish from the dungeon one after another. I look around, spotting what I''m searching for. The surviving children hide inside of the chapel, watching out of the window. The youngest sobs openly, the eldest trying to shush him. The middle child stares daggers at me, likely wishing more than anything to drive a sword though my heart.

    ¡°I¡¯m going to fucking kill the Honorlord and all of his brats for making me do this.¡± I grind out through gritted teeth.

    ¡°You¡¯ll get your chance in another eighteen levels.¡± Peter tells me. ¡°Loot anything good?¡± With his prompting, I loot the boss.

    You¡¯ve looted Knight Captain¡¯s Pauldrons.

    Knight Captain¡¯s Pauldrons - Rare Shoulders - Requires Level 50 - Minimum Strength - Minimum Armor

    ¡°New shoulder pads¡± I report, equipping them. They¡¯re shining silver, not matching my rough looking iron armor or my golden crown of leaves. I wish the bosses dropped levels instead of loot, what''s with this meager experience gain?

    ¡°Nice.¡± Says Peter. He only loots a few silver.

    ¡°Now what?¡± I ask

    ¡°We turn in the quest to the Honorlord and he sends us to the dragon territories.¡± Peter informs me, using his Hertston.

    ¡°Dragons huh?¡± I comment, following his lead. He doesn¡¯t immediately respond, waiting until both of us have teleported to the inn.

    ¡°Now that we¡¯ve cleared a path through human territory, there¡¯s a way to the Ganalam Highlands, where some of the dragons live. The Honorlord wants the dragon¡¯s hoard there.¡± Peter says

    ¡°Well. That seems significantly less morally questionable than slaughtering innocent humans.¡± I say, turning to Peter. ¡°What¡¯s the catch?¡±

    ¡°The dragons come back with a vengeance later.¡± he says, shrugging.

    ¡°And there it is.¡± I say, shaking my head.

    I nod to Bert, who nods back. We¡¯ve seen each other so many times since I departed, but never in any meaningful way. I can¡¯t believe so much has happened in less than a week. I hear Peter yawn while I¡¯m distracted by my thoughts.

    ¡°It¡¯s really late Earl, mind if I catch up with you tomorrow?¡± Peter asks.

    ¡°No problem at all, kid. you get some sleep.¡±

    ¡°Alright, catch you later.¡± he vanishes from where he¡¯s standing next to the bar.

    ¡°Have some time for me to catch you up?¡± I ask Bert.

    ¡°Adventurers are welcome anytime at the inn.¡± Bert repeats a canned line. I sit at the bar and recount everything that¡¯s happened since the last time I got the chance. I leave out some of the sensitive details that pertain to Peter and the Monitor. ¡°Quite the tale.¡± Bert says flatly. I nod.

    ¡°Well, I guess I ought to see if there¡¯s any new armor I could afford to craft. Catch you later.¡± I wave, moving to leave. Toebark is nowhere to be found, a frown spreading across my face as I realize why. Players killed him, and he¡¯s yet to respawn. I walk out the front door, resolved to do something about his circumstances.

 19 - Spankies

    <hr>

    MANHUNT! Crossroads Online saturday night stream. Rewards Unlocked!

    10/3/35 3:36 AM

    ¡°Alright Spankies, it¡¯s go time. We''ve been following the hacker who stole my shit last week using our most talented rogues. He¡¯s been pretending to quest like a normal player with his companion, some no-name rogue. But we don¡¯t care about him, we only care about Earl, and bringing him to justice!¡± Thunderspank pauses, watching the player¡¯s screen who¡¯s hiding closest to Earl in-game. His face is jammed into the corner of the screen, unkempt black beard and hair circling his gaunt features.

    ¡°If he¡¯s following the story quests, the next place he¡¯ll go is the Ganalam Highlands. The perfect place to ambush him. All spankies currently tuned in should make their way there, and stay out of sight in the trees along the road until I give the signal.¡± The screen switches to display Thunderspank¡¯s view in-game, his Minotuar astride his thunderhawk mount. He¡¯s already in position, waiting.

    <hr>

    You¡¯ve crafted steel boots.

    Blacksmithing increased to 60

    Four thousand freaking gold later I have a full set of steel armor and a shield, not including the shoulders and helmet. What I have on is better, as far as I understand, by virtue of the level requirement and rarity. I don¡¯t want to spend the gold to craft the pieces just to find out they¡¯re worse. I wonder why the game designers, or the Monitor, decided to make the equipment this way. What¡¯s wrong with giving a percentile, like when we level up?

    Paragon Earl says: Hey, Helga.

    Paragon Helga says: What¡¯s up hot stuff

    Paragon Earl says: Why does armor say ¡°Minimum Strength¡± instead of giving a percentile, like when we level up?

    Paragon Helga says: because your average player isn''t paying that close attention to their stats or damage output, so why do the hard work of nailing down precise numbers?

    Paragon Earl says: I guess doing it for the few players who care isn¡¯t worth the Monitor¡¯s time.

    I name drop the robot, breaking into a cold sweat. They said not even it could see the chat between Paragons, now I¡¯ll find out one way or the other.

    Paragon Helga says: The Monitor? The monitors are a whole team of people, and they don¡¯t make changes to the game. The developers do. Who told you that?

    Paragon Earl says: I must have gotten them mixed up.

    Nothing bad happens. I don¡¯t know if this proves that it can¡¯t see this chat, or even if Helga really doesn¡¯t know. Peter and I can¡¯t be the only players who do, right? I¡¯m too nervous to push further, so I cut off the conversation there.

    Paragon Earl says: Thank you.

    Paragon Helga says: Anything for you, Earl.

    I also don¡¯t know if she¡¯s being forward or if she¡¯s just naturally flirty. She seemed pretty easy going with her fellow Paragons, so it could just be her personality. I turned down the Honorlord¡¯s eldest daughter outright, because I¡¯m still married. Although, after what Peter told me about my wife moving on to Frankie, I¡¯m not so sure about that anymore. Can I move on? Would Trinee be mad, if she knew I was still alive? Would she want me back?

    Paragon Helga says: Hey, before you go.

    Paragon Earl says: Yes?

    Paragon Helga says: Watch your back when you get back to questing.

    Paragon Earl says: For what? Something specific?

    Paragon Helga says: Just keep an eye out, alright?

    Paragon Earl says: Ok, will do. Thanks.

    I wonder what that¡¯s about. I need to be more vigilant without Peter watching my back anyways. I make my way over to the Honorlord¡¯s palace after hours of blacksmithing, buying stuff from the auction house, shitting my pants over the prices, more blacksmithing, over and over. I don¡¯t have a calculator to do the math for the materials I need, so I just go one by one crafting equipment.

    ¡°We meet again, sword orc.¡±

    Lagakh, First Daughter of Honorlord Mergigoth Dragonslayer. Level ??

    ¡°Well met, princess.¡± I say, vaguely remembering calling her by that title got some kind of reaction last time she was working the night shift. Her face twitches in anger, but a predatory smile forms.

    ¡°Next time we saw each other I said I¡¯d teach you a lesson for calling me that.¡± she says, drawing her axe. Maybe I wildly misinterpreted her meaning.

    ¡°How can I make it up to you?¡± I ask, placing my hands on my hips and trying to flex without looking like I¡¯m trying. Please don¡¯t kill me. She raises an eyebrow, leaning her axe against the throne.

    ¡°I can think of a few ways.¡± She says, lowering her eyes. Hold on, now things are moving too fast. I¡¯m not ready for this! I still haven''t worked out my feelings about Trinee¡¯s theoretical feelings about this! And Lagakh is an A.I., right? Is that even possible? Legal? In the time I spend frozen on the spot, mind racing, she makes her way down and takes my hand, leading me away.

    It¡¯s finally happening! Truly, I dared not get my hopes up! If there is a chair nearby, say, in the corner of the room, would you please-

    As I unequip my armor and weapons, Bolt falls silent.

    <hr>

    MANHUNT! Crossroads Online saturday night stream. Rewards Unlocked!

    10/3/35 7:30 AM

    ¡°He¡¯s doing what?¡± Thunderspank says, responding to a report from one of his spies. He switches to their point of view, jaw dropping as he sees what they¡¯re seeing. ¡°He¡¯s fucking the Honorlord¡¯s Daughter!¡± He leans close to his screen to get a better look, visibly salivating. ¡°Woah¡­¡± he says under his breath. He suddenly cuts off the stream, We¡¯ll be right back! replacing the feed.

    <hr>

    ¡°Can I ask a question?¡± I wonder aloud, laying half-covered by furs with her on the bed. One of the beams holding it together snapped, so it¡¯s leaning towards the foot on my side. It surprised me to see a normal looking bed in her chambers, now this novelty will have to be replaced.

    Stolen novel; please report.

    ¡°Anything¡± she says, hand on my chest and head on my shoulder.

    ¡°What is your duty, other than manning the throne in the evening?¡± I inquire, feeling as though I may have just made love to Hitler¡¯s evil daughter.

    ¡°I lead the assault into the dragon territories¡± She tells me.

    ¡°Oh.¡± I say. Uh oh. This might complicate things in the near future. ¡°I should probably get going.¡±

    ¡°You should stay.¡± she tells me, disappearing under the covers. The fear of tusks crosses my mind, but my worries are assuaged. I lie there, relaxed and happy for the first time since I ended up in this game, as Helga walks through the door.

    ¡°Uh.¡± I say. Lagakh pokes her head out to see why.

    ¡°Paragon Helga.¡± she says, smiling. ¡°Please, join us¡±

    <hr>

    MANHUNT! Crossroads Online saturday night stream. Rewards Unlocked!

    10/3/35 7:42 AM

    ¡°Ok I¡¯m back.¡± Thunderspank says, visibly sweaty. ¡°Wher¡­¡± he begins asking, Lagakh¡¯s chambers coming into view. His eyes dart left and right several times, taking it in. ¡°Helga?¡±

    <hr>

    Laying in the middle of the bed, a muscular orc woman under each arm, I stare up at the wood ceiling. ¡°How did I get here?¡± I ask aloud.

    ¡°It¡¯s a quiet confidence,¡± Helga says, drawing circles on my chest. ¡°You meet my eyes, and speak without judgement.¡±

    ¡°Do people judge you?¡± I ask her.

    ¡°I have been a known internet personality for a lot longer than I¡¯ve been the Berserker Paragon. A lot of players will tell you I slept to the top, which doesn¡¯t make a lot of sense. I¡¯m constantly working to keep my position.¡± she sighs.

    ¡°He called me Princess the first time we met.¡± Lagakh says. Helga sits up to look at me.

    ¡°You did?¡± She asks

    ¡°I didn¡¯t mean it in a demeaning way. She¡¯s the Honorlord¡¯s daughter, right?¡± I defend myself.

    ¡°Maybe I want it to be in a demeaning way.¡± Lagakh says without looking up. I blush, Helga laughs at me.

    ¡°I ought to get going to the dragon lands.¡± I say, moving to get up.

    ¡°You can ride with my Honorguard.¡± Lagakh tells me, getting up herself. I take a long look at her bare back, remembering that I¡¯m supposed to kill her some time in the next eighteen levels.

    Paragon Earl says: Don¡¯t we kill her later in the story?

    Paragon Helga says: Nope. She''s one of the good ones.

    Both relieved and overwhelmed, I foresee a long and complicated future involving these two women, A.I. and Player.

    Paragon Earl says: Is it ok for players to¡­ do stuff with the A.I.?

    Paragon Helga says: It¡¯s pretty common, I mean, I do all the time. People judge me for everything I do, so why bother trying to avoid it?

    Paragon Earl says: I¡¯m sorry.

    Paragon Helga says: It¡¯s not your fault, and hey, you¡¯ll find out pretty soon what people think about it.

    Paragon Earl says: Why do you say that?

    Paragon Helga says: About thirty thousand people just watched you get tag-teamed by a couple of orc muscle mommies on live stream.

    Alongside Lagakh, and Helga, I arrive in the dragon territories with the honorguard. Our ride was mostly filled with girl-talk between the two orc women. It¡¯s uncanny how real Lagakh seems, both in her speech and her¡­ ahem¡­ actions. I chose to ride in silence with them, appreciating the peace of their protection.

    Ganalam Highlands Discovered! Experience gained.

    As expected after Helga explained the situation to me, hundreds of players jump out of the bushes as soon as we cross the border. The Honorguard draw spears and get into formation around the daughter, who sighs loudly. Helga and I stand in the middle of the road, unbothered, as Thunderspank finally reveals himself, clearly shaking with rage.

    ¡°First, you steal my armor.¡± He says, staring more than just daggers at me. ¡°Then you jump into bed with the Honorlord¡¯s daughter and my ex.¡± I turn to Helga, eyebrow raised.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t have much self confidence when we first met. He¡¯s a big part of the reason people believe I didn¡¯t become a Paragon by myself.¡± Helga shrugs.

    ¡°You didn¡¯t¡± he tells her, earning a growl in response. ¡°You rode my coattails all the way to the top.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not how it works and you know it.¡± Helga says without rising to the bait.

    ¡°One of your accusations has been proven false already, Paragon.¡± Lagakh addresses Thunderspank. ¡°I will not stand for repeated lies, however, if you wish to further prove Paragon Earl¡¯s innocence, you may challenge him to a duel to the death.¡±

    ¡°Glady.¡± He says, moving to initiate.

    ¡°Hold on.¡± I say, turning to face Lagakh. ¡°He¡¯s way stronger than me, it¡¯s hardly a fair fight.¡±

    ¡°Paragon Helga may fight in your stead.¡± She tells me. I turn to Helga, who''s still glaring at Thunderspank.

    ¡°I¡¯ll whoop him for you.¡± Helga tells me, dismounting her Warg. Hers is armored in crimson instead of black, like Peter¡¯s.

    ¡°Sure you will¡± Thunderspank scoffs, dismounting from his thunderbird. They approach each other, weapons drawn.

    After an unheard bell rings, they charge. Thunderspank swings Esquire, shield ready to block the incoming strike from Helga¡¯s right-hand axe. Helga allows the sword to slice her, a smile on her face as she grunts in pain. Her left handed axe passes under his arm, catching him in the armpit. Thunderspank yelps, bleeding profusely from the blow. He raises a hoof to kick her away, sending her skidding back, but still on her feet. She roars, growing larger by half of her already impressive size.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t realize that was a combat ability when she used it earlier.¡± I lean over to tell Lagakh. She nods to me, I catch Thunderspank¡¯s eye, and he glares hostility.

    ¡°Potion!¡± Thunderspank yells, one of his lackeys tosses a glass vial through the air, it shatters against Thunderspank¡¯s armor, causing him to grow in size as well.

    ¡°That¡¯s Cheating!¡± I shout, turning back to Lagakh again, expecting her to do something. She doesn¡¯t move or say anything, only raising an eyebrow. Helga runs in again, swinging both axes at Thunderspank¡¯s sword arm. He batters them away with his shield, and stabs forward, into Helga''s gut. She gasps, her unprotected midsection leaking blood onto the ground. A dread-filled heartbeat passes before she raises her axes and brings them down on Thunderspank¡¯s unprotected head. The air in his lungs is violently pushed out as he hits the dirt, almost bouncing with the impact.

    Looking at Esquire sticking out of her, Helga yanks it out, screaming, and throws it over her shoulder. The blade lands at my feet. Although tempted, I do not move to pick it up. Thunderspank slowly rises to his full height, refusing to stay down. He uses his shield as a weapon, backhanding Helga, and pushes her back one step at a time with blow after blow. Panic sets in, as I begin to dread the end result of the duel.

    ¡°Come on¡± I whisper, hopefully sounding like I¡¯m willing Helga to fight on, when in reality I¡¯m speaking to Esquire. At first, nothing happens, the blade idle on the ground.

    A subtle jerk to the side, kicking up dirt. The rattle of metal on stone. I gesture my hand towards Thunderspank without moving my arm, avoiding attention. Esquire slides across the ground, under and between Thunderspank¡¯s legs. The blade rises, slowly but surely, then plunges deep into Thunderspank¡¯s back. I manage not to cheer out loud, only smirking in response. Thank you, old friend. Thunderspank howls in pain, collapsing again, this time on his hands and knees. Seeing an opportunity, Helga grasps the hilt of Esquire, eliciting a squeaking cry from Thunderspank. At first, she seems to be preparing to pull it out, Arthur-esque, before she places her other hand over the pommel and pushes down, sending the blade through his back, up to the hilt. The minotaur collapses fully, propped up slightly by the blade.

    The audience is silent. Nobody moves, shocked by this turn of events. ¡°Anybody else?¡± Helga asks, raising her arms. Some players run away, while others Teleport, and some simply log out on the spot, vanishing. She laughs, placing her bare foot on Thunderspank¡¯s back, posing in her victory. I walk over to her, placing a hand on her back.

    ¡°Well done.¡± I tell her. She grabs both sides of my head and pulls me in for a deep, rough kiss. I taste blood on her tongue, though I¡¯m too startled to care.

    ¡°Thanks.¡± She says, looking down at the body. ¡°I¡¯ve wanted to do that for years.¡±

    ¡°Well fought, Paragon Helga.¡± Lagakh says, riding up beside us on her terrifying warg mount. I get the distinct feeling it¡¯s very protective of her, emitting a low growl around me. Lagakh taps her cheek, Helga steps over and stands on her tippy toes to peck her. Lagakh smiles, satisfied that I¡¯m not hogging all of her affections.

    ¡°I¡¯m off to bed, lover¡± She says, playfully slapping my butt. ¡°Don¡¯t have too much fun without me.¡± She winks at Lagakh, logging out. I Hadn¡¯t realized it was late morning already. Twenty three days, ten hours left until I fall into an endless void of torment or something.