“Twinkle, what can I get from the market?” I yelled, sprinting away. My quick travel capability was disabled, so my only chance to get the boss to stop chasing me was to reach the end of the zone.

“The game’s not letting me access your inventory,” the AI-companion said. “Market transactions are also blocked until the end of the level-up sequence.”

I tried to open my inventory manually. The request was ignored. Not that there was anything in it that would help me against a boss-level monster—I had instructed Twinkle to sell off everything that wasn’t equipped and stock me up with lures. The fact that the system didn’t even allow me to access it freaked me out slightly. And that wasn’t the only thing disabled: I couldn't open the escape menu.

“Twinkle, report a bug.” I checked my debuff. Its cooldown hadn't budged. Apparently, the level up had blocked my abilities as well. If I hadn't been fast enough to cast my buffs beforehand, I would have lost them for the fight. Luckily, there was a positive side to it as well. With all abilities and cooldowns being frozen, my protection would remain until I logged off.

“Report sent. A big ticket has been issued.” Twinkle’s voice sounded annoyingly cheerful. “A community manager will get back to you once the after the level up sequence is over.”

Of course they would. I glanced at the golden dragon as I kept on running. He seemed to be following a pretty standard attack behaviour: three ranged attacks followed by a swoop down for a melee attack. It was impossible to determine the pattern, other than the ranged attacks were always elemental.

Another wave of fire went through the field, burning away what was left of the tall grass. The whole place had become a barren arena at this point. I grabbed one of my daggers and threw it at the dragon. The blade zipped through the air, hitting the creature in the wing. A loud roar shattered the air, wreaking havoc on my audio settings.

Got you! Finally something had gone my way. The attack had probably dealt twenty points of damage, but that was never my intention. I now knew the boss wasn’t immune to physical damage. Also, there was a second unexpected benefit: the attack had made the dragon’s health bar appear for a fraction of a second.

The glitch within a glitch. I smiled. The bug was well known. A year back it had been a huge story on the gaming forums, leading to pro players making a giant fuss. It had been revealed that some games, Vesperia included, used a severely outdated cutscene system, leading to characters receiving damage during game cinematics, which in turn lead to the health bar popping on screen for a few frames. Most people hardly noticed it, but for the small, elite hardcore gamer community, the crime was unforgivable. Some even went as far as to start petitions to fine those responsible. At the time, I hadn’t cared one bit; now I was dead certain that the developer has been too cheap to patch the glitch.

“Twinkle, did you catch his health?” I shouted, taking a sharp left turn.

“Sure did, Sarah. The maximum health was five hundred. Your attack caused thirty damage. That would indicate that the dragon has a natural armour of twenty.”

Twenty armour? There had to be a mistake! A tenth-level character would have more armour soaking than that. Not to mention the overall health was ridiculous. Five hundred was an exceedingly small amount for a ninety level monster, let alone for a hidden boss.

Leaping into the air, I spun around and threw another dagger. My weapon hit the target straight on, burying itself into the creature’s head. Once more the health bar flickered, showing four hundred and forty points remaining. I could feel my heart skip a beat. A glass cannon? The final boss of the game was a glass cannon?! I’d beaten up stronger trees! The only thing that made it so difficult was the astronomical ranged damage and the total ability freeze.

“Twinkle, set up two more cameras.” I was already planning my course of action. I had four more daggers, which meant I could reduce the dragon’s health another hundred and twenty. Throwing my secondary weapon would add another eighty. That left three-forty. Under normal circumstances, I could do that with a five-combo strike, but there was no guarantee dual attacks would deal bonus damage. To be absolutely certain, I'd have to pull off an eight-combo strike before the dragon had a chance to attack with its claws. Not impossible, though not terribly easy either.

“Sure thing, Sarah,” Twinkle sounded a bit far off. “Same settings as before?”

“No. Give me a countdown from ten, then have the news ones follow me on both sides. Keep the old one as it is.”

I held my breath and started preparing. There’d be only one chance and I had to look my best to rack in views.

“Ten… nine… eight,” my AI-companion began.

Another wave of fire past by. Fifteen damage. Without the ninety-nine fire-shield protection, that would have taken a fifth of my life total.

“Seven… six… five…four…”

It was everything or nothing time. The dragon had done its third aerial attack. Based on its set behaviour, it was about to swoop down in a matter of seconds. I turned around and dashed straight at it. My four daggers flew through the air, each landing on the monster’s head.

“Zero!” Twinkle shouted. “Go get him, Sarah!”

The dragon roared. The moment my secondary weapon pierced its wing, the beast’s skin changed from golden to a gleaming black. A ball of ice flew from its mouth, hitting me in the chest. My health bar flashed red.

Three hundred damage!? Without my buffs and protection, this would have been thirty thousand—a one shot kill.

Stay on target! I quoted my favourite movie, then leapt forward. The head was much more detailed than I imagined. Every individual scale seemed sculpted to perfection. They must have spent a fortune getting a team of modellers to create it. Now was not the time to admire graphics, though. I gripped both dancing blades and started performing my attack combo. Spin slash, double slash, party, double slash, slash… Mid way through the attack, the dragon exploded.

“Wha?” I blinked. I had barely done five strikes, and the dragon was dead. My body shivered at the anticlimactic resolution of the battle. A minute ago, I had been terrified, excited, pumped up to my eyeballs with adrenaline. Now, all I had was a feeling of meh.

Quote:

Congratulations! You have reached level ninety nine!

I stared at the notification window. This was it? A glass cannon dragon and a message box? Lamest thing ever! No one would pay ten cents to watch this. The entire battle was less than five seconds long. Even if I included the grinding and the spawning, it would be boring as hell.

“Way to go, Sarah!” Twinkle cheered as he was programmed to. “I got everything recorded. Want to see?”

“Just see if you can post them somewhere.” I didn't want to be reminded of my disappointment. “Suboptimal ad percentage is fine, as long they are willing to pay. And see if you can sell off my items.”

“All items? You sure?”

“All of them.” If I ever played this stupid game again it would be too soon. Stupid childhood memories. “For money if you could, for game currency if not.”

“Sorry, I’m not able to do that.”

“Huh?” I stared at Twinkle’s avatar. This was the first time he had refused an order. Was this a glitch? A virus? Had I forgotten to get his latest security update? “Explain.”

“There’s a bound item in your inventory.” He opened my inventory window. Most items and equipment had already been sold off in the game’s market. The only things that remained were a few useless drops that no one would buy, and a glowing golden present. “It’s marked unknown, so I can't sell it, and I can't see it since only you can open the box.”

More trash. Most games have an end of game trophy—quite useless, but even that could be sold using legal or semi-legal means. Should I open it, though? After a few seconds of hesitation, I decided to consult the online guides.

It didn't take me long to find several forums describing the golden dragon in great detail. Strangely enough, there was no mention of its loot drop, or an adequate kill strategy. The leading theory regarded the dragon as an unkillable endgame event. Apparently, only one person had managed to reduce its health by half. A few others had reached a quarter and threatened to sue the game publisher for a refund.

“Twinkle, search the net for anything about the present,” I said. I was too tired to do a deep search. It was always nice to have a unique present, but only if I could convert it into real money.

“Not a thing.” Twinkle looked at me in his custom confused expression. Originally, that was supposed to be the standard raised eyebrows, but I had bought a Grumpy Cat patch, giving him an “annoyed pondering" look. “Do you want me to try some of the paid sites?”

I shook my head. I wasn't rich enough to be gambling like this, not when most “professional” gamer guide sites demanded a hundred-buck subscription just to view their forums. I tapped on the inventory icon. The golden box appeared in front of me, rising three feet from the ground. Whoever had modeled it had taken his time. From this close, I could see the intricate texture of the wrapping—gold scales twisted in such a way as to make a flat surface. If it was a game I liked, and I wasn’t strapped for cash, I would have kept it for myself. Gently, I untied the ribbon. The whole present exploded in a cloud of golden smoke.

Quote:

Congratulations!

You have won the Dragon Chest of Infinite Gold!

“That's it?” I glared at the message box in disbelief.

Game currency? This was worse than worthless! I’d have to sell it to a newbie account for a tenner. Gold never was a problem in this game, especially since one could only buy the really good stuff only with real money. Gold, even if infinite, would at most provide you with an endless supply of potions. Yet, as everyone knew, in game terms “infinite” and “endless” usually meant one million.

“Just sell it.” I waved my hand. Three hours of my life completely wasted. I hoped the videos I made would be worth something. “And next time you get any promotional messages, let—“

The massive chest of gold suddenly imploded, morphing into a golden egg. What the fuck!? I took a step back. I'd never seen a reward change before. At this point, there was no telling if this was part of some game design, or if the entire ending sequence was buggy as an organ dumpster.

“Twinkle, what just happened?” I picked up the egg. It felt surprisingly heavy.

“I sold the Dragon Chest to the game sys, as you asked.” He beamed with pride. “You're quite generous today!”

“You gave it away?!” I wanted to scream. “You gave away an endless chest of gold for—“ I glanced at the egg in my hand “—this? Is this worth anything?!”

“I don't know, Sarah. The Surprise Egg is a bound item.”

This time I didn't even hesitate, hitting the golden shell with my fist. There was a loud pop, along with a cloud of gold dust, but instead of a gem or item, another message appeared in front of me.

Quote:

New Quest Objective:

Reach level 100 and enter the Domain Gateway.

Quest expires in: 6:23:59:27.

A few moments later, the notification disappeared, awarding me five hundred experience. I watched as my avatar’s experience bar appeared, filling up one twentieth of the way. It seemed perfectly natural, standard almost, if it wasn't for one minor detail: the game wasn't supposed to have a level one hundred.