The kid was beautiful. She couldn’t be more than ten years old - at least in human years - but upon looking at her closely, one could see that she would become a woman of legendary beauty. Her smooth hair was nearly white, cascading down her perfect face in disarray, with her pointy ears sticking through it. Her eyes were big pools of green, and when a flash of magical light came from someplace nearby, Ben thought he could see freckles of gold mixed in the green.

Someone shouted in agony, and the elf girl’s eyes widened in fear. Her hands - bloody at the knuckles - clutched the bars of the cage she was locked in. Her eyes found Ben, and he felt he was drawn into them, drowning in their depths. He couldn’t ignore the plea of help in those pools of green. The girl’s lips moved, and while Ben couldn’t hear her over the din of battle all around him, he could make out the words: ‘Help us.”

He wanted to, but he couldn’t move. His body wouldn’t obey his commands. People moved about, brandishing weapons, blurry in the darkness, and his vision became red. Red all over, dark red, except for the girl who clutched the cage’s bars with bloody hands. Only she wasn’t the elven kid anymore. Her features changed and she became a smaller kid, human, with rags for clothes and a dirty face. “Maya?” He whispered, remembering the little girl from the streets of Sonadin, to whom he gave one of his gold coins.

Maya stretched her little hands out of the bars as if trying to reach him, and the coin fell from her palm and onto the pavement below. Tears were streaming down her eyes, and her lips moved. ‘Beacon’, she mouthed. ‘Help us. Pleeeeease’.

Ben tried to go to her, but he was paralyzed. His lifeblood pooled around him. “I can’t!” He said, heartbroken. “I can’t help you both! I have to choose!”

An arrow zoomed out of the darkness. Ben braced himself, knowing he was about to face the final death, but the attack wasn’t aimed at him. With terrified eyes, he saw the silvery projectile going through the bars of the cage and hitting the small girl through her chest. This time he could hear her scream as her slim body collapsed to the floor of the cage.

There was a flash of lightning, followed by rolling thunder. Rain started to fall from the skies. Ben suddenly found the strength to move, albeit barely so. He pushed himself to his hands and knees and crawled toward the cage, struggling with every breath. The battle raged on around him, but the scout didn’t care. He had to save… someone. He had to do… something.

He reached the cage, grabbed the wet bars, pulled himself up. “I’m here,” he whispered, but then stopped. The body lying dead in the cage didn’t belong to Maya. Nor to the elven girl. Ben found himself looking at Yitro Stone Crusher. The dwarf’s head was turned to the side so that his dead eyes looked straight at Ben. A tip of a dagger stuck out of his throat and blood was bursting out of it, mixing with the heavy rain.

Ben felt his strength ebbing away. “Mike,” he whispered. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry! I had to do it…”

The body of the dwarf suddenly moved. Ben staggered back as his dead friend raised his arm and pointed accusingly at the scout with a hand that was missing a thumb. “You killed me, fuckface,” said the corpse. Blood came out of his mouth when he spoke. “I came to help you, and you killed me.”

Ben shook his head. “It’s just a game!” He cried. There was suddenly a phone in his hand, and he found himself calling Mike. The phone rang and rang, but no one answered. Ben raised his head, and Yitro’s corpse was still pointing at him with its thumbless hand. “You killed me, Ben. You killed your best friend, to become more powerful.” Thunder boomed again.

Ben started to cry. “No,” he whimpered. The last bits of his strength left him, and he lay on his back, letting the rain wash over him. He closed his eyes. “There was no other choice…”

“There’s always a choice, Ben,” said a woman’s sorrowful voice.

“There’s still hope for you,” said another woman’s melodic voice.

Ben opened his eyes, recognizing Shiraz and Milenna’s voices, but all he could see was the blackness of night. The sound of heavy rain was the only thing he could hear now. “Shiraz?” He cried out. “Where are you? I need you!” He tried to turn his head, but once again, he couldn’t move. “Milenna? Please, help me…”

“They left you, skin,” said another voice. A man, big and powerful and ominous, appeared out of the rain to loom over the fallen hero. “They both left you. I’m the only friend you’ve got now.”

Ben wanted to answer, but he couldn’t. Red’s fist was coming his way and he was falling, falling, falling…

Ben opened his eyes, breathing hard. It was dark, the rain was still falling, and for a moment he didn’t know where he was. Was he still dreaming? He tried to look around, dreading that he would be unable to do anything - in the dream, he was immobilized - but he sighed in relief when his body once again obeyed his commands. Moving his head slowly from side to side, he could determine several quick facts:

One, he wasn’t in the punishment square anymore. The cages were gone, and so was the city. He was somewhere in the countryside, and though it was dark and rainy, he could still see enough to realize he was in an open field, with a few trees looming nearby.

Two, he was still in the game. Ben half expected to wake up in his bed, but one look at himself - wearing his battered leather armor, weaponless and chained to a post - convinced him that he was still in VD.

Three, he was weaponless and chained to a post.

That last realization was a cause for some alarm. Ben’s thoughts were fuzzy for some reason, but he was clear-minded enough to understand he was sitting on the muddy ground with his back to a large wooden post, and with his hands tied expertly around the round log with a thick rope. He made a half-hearted attempt to pull his hands out of the knot, but he could hardly move them at all.

“I don’t think you’re strong enough to do that, skin,” said a familiar voice from behind him, loud enough to be heard over the downpour.

Ben strained his neck to look behind his shoulder and saw the Red Mercenary tied to a similar post five feet behind him. The big warrior sat with his long legs stretched before him on the ground and his hands were tied over the thick pole, same as Ben’s. His helmet was gone, and when he saw Ben looking at him, his usual grin appeared on his face. His white teeth were a stark contrast to his black skin.

“Red,” said Ben.

“Me and no other,” replied the mercenary, though his grin faded somewhat. “You okay?”

Ben wasn’t sure. He felt fine, and the excruciating pain in his back was gone, but his mind felt… funny. As if he couldn’t focus his thoughts enough to think coherently. Snapshots of the dream popped in his mind, confusing him further. He tried to focus his attention on Red, but for some reason that made him cringe. He suddenly saw the fist again, coming down...

The scout narrowed his eyes. “You tried to kill me,” he accused.

Red stared at him. Water ran in rivulets down his face and his chain armor. “Kill you?” The warrior’s eyes widened. “Are you fucking kidding me, bro? I saved your life!”

That didn’t make sense. “You hit me - “ started Ben, but Red didn’t let him finish. The veins in the big man’s throat stood out, and he glared at Ben. “I saved you, asshole. I’m the only reason you’re still alive.”

Ben could only see the fist, coming down hard to hit him. “You hit me,” he repeated. His mind seemed unable to produce more than a few words.

“Yeah,” said Red. “Of course I did. I had to make them think you’re dead!”

“Them?” Asked Ben.

Lightning flashed across the skies, turning the night into day for a brief second. Ben could see half a dozen tall silhouettes standing in a semi-circle around his and Red’s posts, holding longbows. Elves. Thunder boomed around them.

“The elves!” Shouted Red when he could speak again, echoing the scout’s thoughts. “Who else?” The warrior cocked his head, looking curiously at the scout. Ben thought he could see him just a little better, and realized that the dark of night wasn’t complete and that the blackness in the eastern horizon was becoming a dark shade of blue. A new day will dawn soon. It was another disturbing thought; Ben had logged into this VD session some 12 hours ago, it wasn’t supposed to be possible for him to remain for so long in the game. Unless…

Unless Jarod was good on his word.

The thought made him remember the conversation he had had with the agent of SH Gaming just before the battle with the elves began. He remembered his promise to kill Valla, and Jarod’s commitment to take Ben’s real-life body to a safe house and hook him up into a more sophisticated VD set, one that would enable him to play whole days in VD without interruptions. More memories started to fill his mind, and with each memory, the scout felt some of the fog that clouded his thoughts beginning to clear.

When he focused his gaze on Red again, he was able to piece together a sentence of more than five words. “Why did you want the elves to think I’m dead?” He shook his head to remove strands of wet hair from his eyes. “Why not just help me get back to the fight?”

Red sighed. “We lost the fight, man. Don’t you remember? The elves were too high-levelled for us. They killed Amberwood and most of the human soldiers. Hayet was doing alright for a while, but they did him too. And Viridion… well, he killed the battlemage, but not before he got hit by one of the elf’s spells; the last I saw of him, the lord of Sonadin was running away from the square, with arrows bouncing off his magical shield. I guess he fled back to the palace to lick his wounds.”

The warrior spat on the ground. “I had no choice but to surrender - the first time in my VD history - but before I did, I had to put you down.” He looked intently at Ben as he continued his story. “You were trying to be the hero and get back to the fight, but dazed and wounded as you’ve been, the elves would have surely killed you. So I knocked you out before you could do something stupid. Then I gave myself to them.” The warrior looked disgusted. “They took me as their captive, and when they saw you lying unconscious, they brought you as well and put you on one of their horses. We’ve been riding for the better part of the night until their leader decided it was time to camp. And here we are.”

Ben blinked rainwater from his eyes. Red’s story made sense, in a way. Except for one thing… “You surrendered?” He asked incredulously. Ben knew Red for less than three days, but it was enough to know that the mercenary was nothing if not bloodthirsty. The warrior’s favorite tactic was to charge head-on into fights, even (and especially) when the odds were against him.

Red frowned. “I know,” he said. “Shameful. But I didn’t want to die, not so far away from a waystone. The risk of not being able to resurrect into Raxlon’s Quest was too big, and we got a good thing going here, you and I.” His grin reappeared. “Seems a waste to let it go so soon.”

Ben fell silent. Something about Red’s tale still didn’t sit well with him. He tried to access his interface, wishing to read his battle log and see what happened for himself, but he was in for a nasty surprise. “I can’t access my interface!” He blurted.

Red cursed. “Yeah, I know. Me neither. It’s the elves. They’re pouring something down our throats every hour or so, a mind poison of some kind. If you feel confused or disoriented, that’s the reason. And it also makes it nearly impossible to access our powers. I heard that such a thing exists, but it’s the first time I’m experiencing it. A real mind fuck, this potion. Literally.”

Ben felt a surge of panic. No powers? “Wait,” he said, trying to hold onto something. “You said nearly impossible.”

The warrior nodded. “That’s what I heard. That if your will is strong enough, you can overcome the potion and regain control of your abilities.” He shrugged. “I tried to do just that for the past hour or so, but no luck. Hey,” he added, seeing Ben’s distraught face. “Relax, skin. Think of the challenge! It’s just like the first time we met, back in the cells of Sonadin. Once again we’re captives, with no weapons or powers other than your sharp brain and my big muscles. Surely we can find a way to free ourselves…”

Ben pressed his lips. “I need to think,” he said.

“Don’t take your time,” said Red. “It’ll be morning soon, and from the little Elvish I understand, I think they plan to get back on the horses at first light. Once we’re in the Eloveen Valley, we’ll be in the domain of Ronadin, and then it will be that much harder to escape.”

“Where do you think they’re taking us?” Asked Ben.

Red shrugged. “Probably to their queen. Presenting her with the Beacon himself as their captive… they’re bound to get promoted, or something.”

Ben turned his head away, and Red fell silent, giving his companion the time he needed to think. The young scout looked around him, this time taking the time to scrutinize his surroundings. He couldn’t use his Dark-vision, Far-vision, Passive Focus or Hawk-Eye, but he still had his eyes, and he still possessed a Perception score of 28, so he wasn’t completely helpless.

The elves made camp on a patch of muddy ground, surrounded by sporadic trees and bushes. If Ben had to guess, they probably chose a place of high ground, from where they could watch their surroundings in a 360-degree lookout. There were seven elves that he could see; some were standing guard with their longbows, others were taking care of the horses - the big animals were grazing a few yards away, oblivious to the downpour. The elves didn’t seem worried about their human captives; they threw glances at them from time to time, but mostly they kept to their business. Ben figured that they were right not to worry; without their powers and their weapons, and bound as they were, he and Red hardly posed any threat to them.

His thoughts went back to the events of the previous evening. It started so well; he strode into Sonadin like a hero from the legends, and the people cheered him as their beacon of hope. Then Lord Viridion had invoked the old Pact of Heroes and Ben agreed to complete a Quest for Power, one that involved destroying the elves’ magical defenses. Valla had tried to convince him to change his mind and side with the elves - an offer he refused - and then there was the meeting with Jarod and the surprise attack of the elves...

Ben didn’t know how many elves he had killed. More than twenty, at least. For a time, he thought of them as evil beings - especially after seeing how they butchered the weaponless nobles in the Great Palace - but then there was that notification he’d gotten after using Death Magic on one of the elves. The realization that he was killing creatures devoted to preserving life threw him off balance. And when he saw the elven children, locked in a cage in the Punishment Square…

I wanted to save them, thought Ben, suddenly remembering. Didn’t I tell as much to Red? Right before he -

Ben turned to look over his shoulder again. The mercenary was sitting with his eyes closed, trying to rest. The elves had stripped him of his impressive arsenal of weapons - including his shield, helmet and Breaker - but even without weapons, even sitting on the mud and tied to a post, even with his eyes closed, the dark-skinned warrior looked impressive. Dangerous.

As Ben studied his companion, another memory surfaced into his mind. He was walking along the first floor of the Dungeon of Dwarven Despair with Shiraz, and the shadow mage told him about her suspicions - that Red was using some kind of mind manipulation power on Ben, making him do whatever the warrior wished him to. Ben could never determine if Shiraz got the right of it or not and, as they played on, Red had saved his life more than once so the scout decided to trust the big man. Now, he wondered.

As if sensing Ben studying him, Red opened his eyes, returning the scout’s look. After a few seconds, the mercenary frowned and cracked his neck to both sides. “Tell me you’ve got a plan,” he said.

Ben glanced at the eastern horizon again; it was getting a shade brighter, and he could make out more of their surroundings. As he suspected, they were camping on top of a hill; he could see the outlines of the vast countryside stretching below them to each direction. The trickster scout did some internal checking. Then he turned to look at his companion again and nodded. “There’s a plan,” he confirmed. He lowered his voice as much as he could - he still needed to be heard over the rain - and moved as close to Red as was possible with his hands tied. “I need you to go crazy.”

Red blinked. “Come again?”

Ben managed a smile. “Remember the little act I pulled just before we escaped from the prison cell? Now it’s your turn to put on a show. I want you to go wild. As if you can’t take it anymore. Roar, shout, try to get free of the ropes… and then get out of them.” He raised his eyebrows. “You can tear those puny ropes with your incredible strength, can’t you?” He remembered another time when he successfully provoked Red into a test of strength, and he imagined this time wouldn’t be any different.

He was right. Red snorted and puffed his chest. “Of course I can. I just didn’t want to do it when you were still out cold.”

Ben nodded as if that wasn’t even a question. “Good. Try to escape. You won’t succeed, but you will get the elves’ attention. When they try to recapture you, I will use my Mind Lock power - “

“I told you, you can’t - ‘

Ben smiled, and Red fell silent. “You can access your powers?” He asked, amazed.

Ben shook his head. “Only one. But if my guess is correct, that will be enough.”

After he realized he couldn’t browse his interface, Ben had tried a different approach and attempted to use every one of his powers directly. It seemed futile at first - none of his special abilities was available to him - until he tried Mind Lock. The icon of his Perseverance Power - a face with an aura around it - glowed faintly in the corner of his vision; not as bright as always, but enough to convince Ben that this one power might be accessible to him. And, he mused, if he could enhance the protection of his mind, maybe he’d be able to nullify the effect of the mind poison the elves had given him - thus gaining access to the rest of his powers. It was worth a shot.

Discussing an escape plan over the din of the deluge and sitting five feet from each other was not the smartest course of action, so Ben wasn’t surprised when two sword-wielding elves turned their attention to the humans and started to walk over to them.

Red saw them too and opened his mouth, but Ben shook his head to stop him. There was no time to explain the rest of his plan; Red would just have to follow along. “You’re up,” he said to his companion. Ben felt strangely calm about all of this. He knew what he had to do now.

Red frowned - he obviously didn’t like that plan - but, seeing the expression on Ben’s face, the warrior simply nodded. Before the elves were upon them, the big man suddenly roared and tried to jump to his feet. He couldn’t - the ropes held him down - so he started to twist and thrash around, throwing his body this way and that, kicking high and spattering mud, bellowing in outrage and cursing with the best of his imagination - a skill with which he wasn’t lacking at all.

The mercenary’s shouts easily overcame the downpour. The two elves, now alert and alarmed, ran the rest of the way - but found out they can’t come too close to the thrashing warrior; not unless they wanted to get struck by one of his boots. They took positions with their swords poised at a safe distance, waiting for the human’s unexpected tantrum to cease. More of the elves approached around them, some raising their longbows and taking aim at the warrior. None were paying attention to Ben, who sat calmly and waited.

Red’s thrashing did more than draw the elves’ attention; moving up and down along the wooden post, the ropes that bound Red’s wrists grew weaker and Red, with a strength score of 40, took advantage of that fact and pulled both of his arms as mightily as he could. The warrior’s massive shoulders and arm muscles bulged, there was a tearing sound - and the ropes gave way. Red was free.

The elves, their eyes widening at seeing this incredible show of strength, needed just a split of a second to overcome their shock and lunge forward.

Red was faster. Before any of the elves could reach him, the mercenary threw himself to the side, rolling on the mud and escaping both swings of the elven swords. From there, the human jumped to his feet and started to run - away from Ben. Two archers released their arrows, but luck was with the warrior; the arrows zoomed past his head, and he kept running. In a matter of seconds, all seven elves were hot in pursuit after the runaway captive.

It was Ben’s turn. The trickster scout took a deep breath and focused on the task at hand. He concentrated, and the icon of his Mind Lock power appeared, glowing faintly in the bottom left corner of his field of vision. Hoping he was right about his assumption - it was the first time he tried to use his Perseverance Power, and he didn’t know what to expect - Ben mentally clicked on the icon.

His vision suddenly turned pitch black - as black as the first time he had logged to VD - and he felt an alarming sensation of what could only be described as drainage. As if all thoughts and feelings were being pulled away from his mind by an invisible vacuum. For a moment, he was afraid that he made a terrible mistake, that he was about to erase his identity and become an empty void of nothingness. He tried to stop the process, but it was too late; the power was activated and nothing would stop it now, he was doomed -

The sickening feeling of drainage abruptly stopped, and Ben’s sight once again filled with colors. Sensations, feelings and thoughts rushed back into his mind, and he felt a tremendous sense of relief. He also realized that the fuzzy feeling he had felt before was gone. For the first time since he opened his eyes, the young hero felt in complete control of his mind. Did it mean he succeeded in regaining access to his powers?

Ben, daring now to hope, tried to access his interface - but before he could do it, his vision exploded with numerous prompts and notifications. All the messages he had received during the last fight with the elves and its unfortunate outcome tried to grab his attention, and Ben had to hurriedly swipe them away from his field of vision. He had no time; he could hear Red shouting somewhere off to his right, and it sounded like the warrior was struggling and wrestling with his captors. Ben could only guess that the elves would have no qualms about killing the mercenary - the Beacon was the real prize, and the Beacon was still helplessly tied to his post. Or so they thought.

Ben grinned. First, he would teleport away from his bonds -

Before he could do anything of the sort, Ben sensed the shadows move around him. His eyes widened; he had seen shadows move like that before, and there was only one person he knew who could manipulate them in such a fashion. One person, who he thought had left him for good -

Something grabbed at his hands, there was the sound of ropes tearing, and suddenly his hands were free. Ben jumped to his feet, turned around - and there she was. Materializing out of the rain and the shadows of the rising dawn, appeared the most beautiful woman Ben had ever seen. Her eyes glinted, her red hair was the only living color and in a desolate world - blazing in his vision like a true beacon of hope. Her smile tore his heart.

Shiraz fell into his arms. Despite the rain, she felt warm. She was real. She came to save him again, from his captors. From himself.

Ben held onto her, too awestruck to speak. Shiraz, as always, found words before he could. She drew away from him - just by a few inches - and grabbed his hands in hers. “We have to get out of here,” she said.

Ben wanted to laugh. To shout. To hug her. To kiss her. Instead, he just stared at her face. “You came back for me,” he whispered.

Not far away, Red bellowed, this time in pain. Shiraz looked into Ben’s eyes and nodded. Despite the urgency of the situation, she smiled. “Of course I did, silly. Now let’s go. Before the elves see us.” She started to pull him away.

Ben stood his ground. “We have to help Red first,” he said, though his voice lacked real conviction.

Shiraz shook her head. “No. Leave him to the elves. You can’t trust him.”

Ben studied her face. She suddenly looked angry. Full of rage. “What are you talking about?” He asked, though he thought he knew.

“No time for that now, I’ll tell you later.” The shadow mage pulled at his hand again, and this time he let her. They started running, away from the elves and the fallen mercenary. Shiraz was leading them toward one of the trees. “My shadow powers have grown,” she shouted as they ran. “I can shadow jump both of us to another location, we just need to reach the location I prepared in advance - “ she pointed at the tree.

Ben let her lead him, trying to ignore Red’s agonized screams that filled the air. It took them a few seconds to get to the tree, where Ben could see a vortex of shadows slowly spinning in the air. Shiraz turned to him, grinning. She was so striking - the most beautiful he had ever seen her - and he felt his heart ache with love. “We jump into the vortex together,” she breathed. “To the count of three. One, two - “

The red-haired shadow mage never managed to finish her count. Ben’s Passive Focus triggered, and his eyes widened when he suddenly felt another presence in their immediate vicinity. He turned around, alarmed, but he was too late: where he thought was only the broad trunk of the tree, was now standing a half dwarven girl, holding a wicked long dagger in her hand. Ben never saw her, and he knew he would never forgive himself for that, because he should have. “Camouflage spell,” he remembered her telling him, smiling in coy satisfaction, “One of my favorites. Managed to fool you, didn’t I?”

Valla.

Ben wanted to shout a warning, to freeze time, to attack, to pull Shiraz away - but he was too slow. Even with his high Initiative score, he couldn’t match the well-prepared attack of the half dwarven princess, who, just like she did in the Great Palace, had managed again to take the scout by surprise.

Before his eyes, Valla lunged from her hidden place and struck Shiraz from behind with deadly precision. The wicked blade she was holding was glowing with a light blue color, and it pierced through Shiraz’s exposed throat as easily as Ben’s dagger once went through Yitro’s throat.

Shiraz didn’t even have time to scream. Her eyes widened in shock. She tried to speak, but only blood came out of her mouth. Ben, horrified, could only watch as her eyes turned to look at him one final time in desperation. Her mouth kept moving, as if she wanted to say something, but her health plummeted down to zero in less than a second.

The shadow mage fell into his arms again. She was dead.

Ben grabbed her body in his arms. He felt hollow. Empty. His eyes met the blue eyes of Valla - who looked at him with utter loathing. The earth mage stood there in the rain, righteous and vindictive, a bluish aura shimmering around her body. Her blue hairband sparkled even brighter, probably supplying her with the magic she needed to sustain her shield.

Valla lowered her hand, still holding the dagger that killed Shiraz. The blade dripped blood that soon mixed with the falling rain. “No one will help you escape, Beacon,” said the half-dwarf. “You have had your chance, but you made the wrong choice.” She twisted her mouth in a snarl. “You could have helped us! Instead, you killed us. So you will pay.”

Ben looked at her blankly, holding the dead weight of Shiraz in his hands. The shadow mage didn’t disappear, which meant she was truly dead, at least in this Quest. She came to save him, and because of him, she was dead.

Ben closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. He knew what he had to do. Slowly, the Vindicator of the Depths let Shiraz’s body slip to the muddy ground. Then he opened his eyes, which glinted with an inner light - a powerful light that made Valla inhale sharply.

Ben met her gaze. “You made the wrong choice, too,” he said in a dead voice. “You should have killed me, not her.”

The Beacon accessed his interface. It was time to become Godlike.