Prologue: The Battle of Kormand Keep

Horns blared, and the stone wall beneath our feet trembled. An army of high orcs numbering more than five million filled the land before us, from horizon to horizon. We were surrounded, with only the impassable mountains on either side and the narrow pass the keep protected behind us free of orc filth, but we could not retreat. If Kormand Keep fell, the Kingdom of Ferdun would burn, and everything we had built with our blood and sweat for the last three years would turn to ash along with it. They marched in perfect unison, shaking the earth with their ceaseless, rhythmic steps. They had been led here by the Fanged Wrath Clan, the greatest of the monster player clans west of the Terrik mountains. They were here to take the fertile land of our homeland for their own and to reward their legions with a feast of man-flesh.

Our job was simple. We had to hold this keep against this slavering horde of millions for three days. Seven hours had passed while the beasts marched ever closer, but many hours remained. We had to hold with only our clan, the Eighth and Ninth Auxiliary legions, and ten thousand mercenaries whose lives were ours for the promise of gold. The mercenaries would rout the moment it appeared the fortress would fall, as with it went the kingdom who was supposed to pay them. They would not risk death for free.

After three days, the First, Second, Fourth, and Ninth Legions would arrive, along with two dozen other contracted clans. That much martial might would be enough to hold the Keep until the end of time. Our only reinforcements before then would be the Fifth Legion arriving sometime tomorrow, but they had yet to recover after their disastrous defeat at the battle of Felhaven just a few months ago. They had less than half the soldiers of the other legions.

Luckily, the few troops we had were perfect for a siege. The eighth auxiliary were dwarves, mostly heavy infantry with many priests and ballista crews as had always been their way. The ninth was elves, with equal numbers of warriors, druids, and archers.

The fortress had a wide field before it with a hastily grown dourthorn bramble wall summoned by the druids to slow the enemy advance. The fortress itself was surrounded by a moat and three sturdy walls, each higher than the last. The kingdom had spared no expense during constructions of the walls, and the portcullises were made of solid mithril, while carpenters had carved the gates from thousand-year-old iron sentinel heartwood. Towering above all the walls was the original Kormand Keep, which filled the gap between the two cliffs, completely sealing the entrance to the pass except for a heavily fortified tunnel. The fortress had long outgrown being a simple keep, but the name had stuck.

I had deployed the mercenaries to the outer wall. I had no trust in them to hold the line without a shut portcullis between them and escape. The dwarves guarded the gates and were stationed at various points along the roads for rapid response when the orcs eventually broke in. The elves and the dwarven ballista held the second and third walls to rain their arrows, bolts, and magic upon the enemy. My clan, the light brigade, would fight alongside the grizzled veterans of the Kormand garrison to keep the horde at bay.

It was simple but hard to mess up. We separated the dwarves and the elves so they wouldn't fight, and we trapped the mercenaries on the wrong side of the second wall’s portcullis so they couldn't retreat behind the next wall until I gave the order. All we had to do was fight in the worst breaches until we could reclaim that section of the walls.

As the first ballistae fired their heavy bolts towards the advancing horde, the battle for Kormand Keep began.

“Go away!” I fiercely groaned at the blaring alarms that had shattered my peaceful and well-earned rest. They were alerting me to the supposedly “urgent” alerts filling my field of view. I had made the three worst mistakes I could when crashing after a 72-hour marathon defending our keep from the orc horde in the VRMMO Bellum Aeternam. First, I fell asleep in my chair. After sleeping for more than a day, my back was as stiff and bent out of shape as my stepmother’s poor excuse for a personality. Second, I left my VR headset on, and third, I left myself logged in on patch day. Players had to disconnect for major content patches, and so the klaxon warnings of an imminent forced logout assaulted my ears.

I began to deliriously swipe through the pop-ups, desperate to return to my precious sleep.

Terran Update Welcome to-

Swipe.

Initialization Warning Rolling content upda-

Swipe.

Initialization Your system has been connec-

Swipe.

Initialization Complete Your region’s terrain and-

Swipe.

Tutorial Would you like to start the-

Swipe.

Hostile Region Designation Your region has been-

Swipe.

Evacuation Advisory Your region will be-

Swipe.

Hostile Zone Initialization Monster Spawning and-

Swipe.

I stumbled over to my bed and didn’t even bother trying to remove the headset. The moment my face hit that soft, welcoming pillow, my brain fled the arduous existence that was consciousness.

A ringing chime woke me again, though at least this time, I finally felt well-rested, ‘Oh hell, I hope I didn’t forget to turn the stream off again...’ I thought. If the game logs out, the stream defaults to the desktop camera, and I don’t exactly match the inspiring presence of the commander of the light brigade in real life. Then again, last time I got a ton of donations from people trying to startle me and wake me up-

The chime rang again, even louder than before.

“Okay! Fine! I’m awake!” I begrudgingly groaned and opened my eyes to a light blue popup.

Hostile Zone Initialization Complete Your zone has been populated by monste-

Swipe.

“For fuck’s sake! I’ll read the goddamn patch notes later after I eat some goddamn food!” I yelled at the stupid headset. I reached up to tear it off my head and slapped my face instead.

“What?!” I cried in shock as my hands felt around my head, but there was nothing there. I lay there stunned, staring straight up with no viewscreen between my eyes and the plain white ceiling of my apartment. I stared at my hands, but there were no gloves. How could I swipe a popup away without my gloves? I slapped my cheeks and turned over to read the label from some takeout I had ordered during my marathon aloud, “Chen’s Chinese Chow,” I rolled the other way, counted to ten, rolled back, and reread it, “Chen’s Chinese Chow. Fuck!” I slammed my fist into my soft and spitefully unhurt mattress. I’ve felt pain in dreams before, but never once have I ever read anything the same way twice. Totems and drawing crap on your hands is a waste of time. Just read a sign or the label on some spoiled Chinese takeout.

‘Okay, Mark. Let’s just put everything out there. First, I vaguely remember being woken up by pop-ups earlier, but I can’t remember what they said, and I don’t remember taking off my helmet afterward. The good news is that I was both completely delirious from exhaustion at the time, and it was most likely just a dream anyway. Second, the exact same thing happened just now, when I was well-rested and fully lucid due to me being angry about being woken up. Third, I can see my headset resting on its charging mount by my computer. Fourth, as of my last therapy appointment about six years ago, I am not insane. Fifth… What the fuck? What did it say? “Hostile Zone… Complete.”? “Your zone has monsters now.”?’

‘Alright. That’s enough. I either wasn’t as awake as I thought I was, or my parents were right, and 72-hour gaming marathons aren’t healthy. I’m alright. The world isn’t ending.’

I got up, grabbed a beanie to cover my short, unwashed black hair, changed into a clean t-shirt and some athletic shorts, and left my room. I could shower later, but I needed food now. I walked down the long apartment hallway towards the elevators, salivating at the thought of the bagel shop on the ground floor that served pretty much any breakfast-ish item you could think of on a bagel sandwich slathered with cream cheese. Just as I turned the corner at the end of the hall, something ran into me.

It was a child. It was a child with dirty green paint on its skin and an oversized shirt hanging off its small frame. No, it was not a child. Those thin, pointed ears could be cosplay, but that mouth gaping open in shock was far too wide to be the mouth of a child, and those teeth were not teeth that belonged in the mouth of a child or anything even remotely close to being human. The thing’s mouth was filled with far too many sharp teeth like a wolf, but they were crammed together and so misaligned that it seemed impossible that they would ever fit together if the creature ever closed that cavernous, gaping maw. I screamed, and the goblin squealed.