Page 10

M elissa

I made it to the forest without falling off, and once we got into the trees, the horse slowed down enough that I could stop clinging on so hard and actually ride slowly, until the trees got thicker and the bushes got denser, and then I got off and just led the animal behind me.

He keeps stopping to snatch grass, which I let him do because why not. I wish I could eat grass and be satisfied the way he seems to be, but hopefully I’ll find some basic rations on one of the creatures of the wild.

I feel like I know what to do now. I walk around until I find a few sticks. I also gather some plant fiber from flax type plants, and as many stones as I can carry, which isn’t that many without a bag.

While the horse eats, I settle in next to a tree and start smashing the stones together in a gesture I can only describe as primate-like.

Most of them don’t break, but a couple of them shatter into shards of naturally sharp stone.

Fixing the sharpened stone to the stick is tricky, but not impossible.

I use my weak axe to harvest more branches.

Chopping a tree doesn’t mean much. I’ll need an iron axe for that.

It occurs to me that things are going to be much more difficult to fabricate in the real version of this game world.

Furnaces aren’t going to pop into existence if I stack stone the right way.

I take my longest, sturdiest stick and use the stone to sharpen the point of it. This, I should be able to use to hunt. It’s not the same as a sword, but I think it should work. Unless it doesn’t.

I don’t have to wait all that long to find out.

I hear a cackling in the near distance, a sort of sound that is half-humanoid, half-animal.

I slide back into the bushes, taking cover in the hope of staying unseen.

Does this version of the world have proper stealth mechanics?

Does being in a bush mean they can’t see me?

Or will they trigger aggro when they’re within a certain range of me like DFE does?

I’ve played so many games in my life, but I’ve never felt this level of tension before. My heart is pounding and I’m trying not to breathe too hard, and I’m clutching my self-made weapon with anticipation and desperation.

“Hehehehe! Muches and morses for us!”

Kobolds are making for my hiding spot in the bush. They are little humanlike creatures with exaggerated ears, noses and chins, spindly limbs, and a fondness for murdering un-geared newbies.

I grip my pointed stick. I hope one of them has a better weapon on it. A sword, ideally. They might even have some starter armor, gloves, maybe? Rations? A bag?

I feel lit up with anticipation as they get closer, passing me by in a pack of three. I let them go past, then leap out and stab, knowing I’ll do more damage by coming in stealth than fighting them entirely aware.

I know the moment the point of my spear pierces the back of the kobold that I have made a big mistake.

My first time killing a sentient creature is…

not good. There’s more blood than I thought.

I try to pull the shaft out, but it is firmly in there.

I guess there are a lot of suction forces from viscera.

My yanking only serves to make the creature fall backward.

I let go, but the kobold is stuck on the stick, which has now punctured almost all the way through him from back to chest. He lies on the forest floor, screaming and coughing up blood.

“Why! Why would you do this?” It wails the question in anguish.

“Oh, my god! Oh, my god, I’m so sorry! I thought you’d lie down and disappear!”

“Healing potion! Gives us a healing potion!” it shrieks at me.

“I don’t have one. I’m so sorry. I don’t have anything.”

The other two are staring at the scene, which is horrific. One rushes to try to comfort the wounded kobold, but they are unable to do anything to stop the bleeding. It is too brutal and grievous an injury for him to survive for long.

“Tell my wife and children I love them,” the little creature rasps as the light leaves its eyes.

“He was so close to retirement,” the kobold at his side says. “He said he was too old for this. But we convinced him to do one last mission. One last shiny run for the den.”

It lifts its eyes to me, and I see that they are lit with the need for vengeance. The other is not far behind it. They both draw hatchets, and swig potions that create a quick glowing effect around their bodies.

“You killedses him,” they hiss. “Now you dies.”

It sounds fair. I never thought I’d ever do something absolutely heinous and entirely unredeemable, but here I am, saturated with the deepest kind of guilt. It seems reasonable that they would want to kill me. It almost seems reasonable that I would let them.

I don’t have a spear anymore. That’s still inside the dead kobold. I left my axe in the bush. I have my bare hands and nothing else.

They approach me with their hatchets raised. I freeze. I close my eyes. I wait for it to hurt, and then to end.

The sound of my heart in my ears drowns out the sound of large wings overhead, but nothing could ever be louder than the raging cry of a massive dragon hanging over us in the sky, wings extended, golden scales gleaming, mouth opened wide in protective fury.

Flame explodes from the dragon, two targeted bursts of intense heat that hit the kobolds dead center, knocking them away from me. Then he follows with a glut of fire, which turns them into near instant cinders.

Have I been rescued? Is there any such thing as rescue in this world that contains such raw brutality?

The dragon lowers toward me. I take cover, knowing there is nowhere to run. It could burn the forest around me if I made it angry, and once that happened it would be a horrific end. Best to stay still and accept whatever fate has in store for me.

The creature is beyond beautiful. It is flying art, every individual scale a gorgeous work in and of itself. It is also large, large enough that the trees it chooses to land in bend and snap like grass being stepped on.

I stare, stunned, shocked, and unable to respond in any way as the creature rapidly shrinks upon landing, and a tall raven-haired man steps toward me.

Ornix.

I don’t know whether to be relieved or horrified, surrounded by the charred debris of my mistakes.

He is wearing scaled armor from head to toe, shining bright in the clearing made by the destruction of his dragon fire. Every stride seems to bring him many, many feet closer to me, like the world moves under him when he walks, and not the other way around.

He grips me by the chin.

“You do not run,” he says. “To run in this world is to invite death. Do you know how close you were to being shot with arrows that would have torn you to pieces, hacked to death by kobolds? Even burned by a stray flame catching the wind the wrong way? You almost died three separate times today even as I tried to save you from mortality itself. Do you have a wish for oblivion? Do you desire to be cast into the underworld? Consumed by the soul eater? Is your essence destined to be snuffed out?”

“I killed someone,” I sob. “I think I might deserve to die.”

“As a greater man than me once said, there are those who do not deserve life who have it, and there are many who deserve it who do not, so it does not matter.”

“I don’t think that’s what he said. Not even close.”

“Well. Regardless. I do not care what you think you deserve, you will stay alive because I will it, if nothing else. You are mine. Your life belongs to me. Your body belongs to me. As does your happiness, which you will rediscover one day, but not today. Today you will atone for daring to deprive me of what I own.”

I tremble in his grasp, and under the weight of his words. He means every single one of them. He truly believes I belong to him. I suppose I should have realized that already, but hearing him declare it so completely and emphatically makes it sink into my bones.

He is not done with his lectures. In fact, he is only just beginning. He keeps my head tilted up toward him, but he continues to speak.

“What did you think you were doing? Stealing a horse, coming to this dangerous forest? Killing the inhabitants who never did you any harm? What kind of a little monster are you?”

Tears leak out of my eyes, running down my face.

There’s some version of this story where he swoops in to comfort me, tells me that it doesn’t matter that I ineptly slaughtered a kobold, he doesn’t care about anything as long as I am safe.

But that’s a delusional version. This, again, is starting to bite in a very real way.

“I thought it would be easier to kill him. I thought it would hurt less. I thought it would be cleaner. I thought I was supposed to. That’s usually what you have to do when you start the game.”

I feel his grip tighten just a fraction.

“This is not a game, Melissa. This is more real than the world you left. The human realm is small, a little bauble hanging in space. It is limited in so many respects, run by petty small men with cruel intentions. It has limited natural resources, and it is choking on its own waste. You have been brought to a world that runs on entirely different systems. Where magic is real, where you have been chosen as the mate of the highest in the land, and you run off to murder innocent woodland creatures because you’ve been taught that’s what a human does?

I will teach you again, little human. I will give you the lessons you needed to learn a long time ago, and I will make sure they stick.

Let’s start with killing. If you want to kill cleanly, you have to practice.

What kind of practice have you engaged in? ”

“Well, I played the…” I’m scared to even say the word ‘game,’ since it seems to infuriate him so much.