One of the few cool things in Vesperia was that most location names were created by its players. According to the online history files, when the game launched, only cities and major quest locations were defined. Everything else was left as nondescript regions on the world map. This was a standard practice at the time; many games allowed supporters who had sunk the largest amount of money in the game’s development to offer lore names. What made Vesperia different from any other game at the time was that it didn’t rely on polls, buy-ins, or prizes, but had developed a systemic naming algorithm. Every time a person used a description when referring to an area, the game system would store the information. When “critical mass” was acquired, the name would be adopted as official and appear on ten world map. Bent Cliffs, Crescent Mountain, Sylvan Forest: all had been organically named by the masses of players who referred to them in that way.

Goblin Fields had once been the main spawning point for goblins in the world. The goblins had long since been replaced by stronger creatures, but the name remained—mostly due to a bug in the naming algorithm. At present, the area was almost entirely void of NPCs, providing instead vast amounts of dirt-class ingredients for single-digit-level players.

The event announcement must have drawn what few players farmed here away, for there were none upon my arrival. I grabbed hold of my rapier and looked around.

“Twinkle, scan for players.” I looked around. “Thousand meter radius.”

“Okay!” The AI spun happily in the air, flying a few dozen meters into the sky. “No players or NPCs found in the area, Sarah. Do you want me to perform a paid scan?”

“No.” I opened the mark and zoomed in until I could see myself on it. “Keep a lookout.”

“You got it, Sarah!” Twinkle twirled.

I really wish I could be as happy as you.

The point of the X was a few steps away, falling on a piece of the local flora. There was nothing preventing me from walking right to the bush and cutting it in half; that was exactly what prevented me from doing so. Like everything in the hundred level quest, this seemed too easy to be true.

Arming my second rapier, I went forward. A strange sensation swept over me as I walked. In a matter of seconds, the quest I had spend a week pursuing was going to end. Either I would complete it and be granted my prize—possibly a login code to the parasite game beyond—or I’d fail without any time to make a new guess. One way or another, I would be done with it.

A sudden smell of nettles tickled my senses when I reached the bush. So this was what the game felt like with rich-kids’ gaming gear. I could only imagine the money that went into smell design.

“Sarah, an insect mob has spawned three hundred and seventy-two meters away,” Twinkle announced, startling me into a combat stance. “Level fifteen.”

“Twinkle!” I grumbled, lowering my weapons. “Only warn me about players and mobs over fifty!” This was a scene I would definitely delete from my video. “Okay?”

“Oh, sure, Sarah,” the AI said with a saddened sniff. “Sorry.”

Instinctively, I put my hand on my neck to check my pulse. My fingers felt nothing, even if my heart echoed in my head. Stupid cat! I hissed. Even after all this time, I hadn’t gotten used to jump scares, especially when sound was involved. Having my companion go into full shouty siren mode—especially when I was under the impression I had muted him—was worse.

“Halve your volume,” I grumbled, before returning my attention to the bush.

I suppose it’s fitting. I couldn't help but shake my head. Everything had started not too far from this location. A snap mail might have brought me to Vesperia, but I had chosen the zone in which to grind for experience. No doubt it was an interesting coincidence, and it made for an interesting experience.

“Fully circle,” I whispered and sliced the bush. As with most old games, the plant split in two perfect halves that gradually disappeared as they fell to the ground. The whole thing was cringy, but expected. Now the final step.

“So you can cut twigs,” a young female voice said in a thick New York accent. I looked up. A few steps in front of me, the air rippled. A mosaic of hundreds of green triangles appeared, forming the outline of a silhouette. “Say you try me?” A chocolate nymph avatar appeared, dressed in custom gear from head to toe.

Crap! My legs refused to move. I didn’t have to be a dark broker to know who the player before me was, or what she could do to me. The difference in skill level between us was so large that I might as well be naked. On my best days, I was only able to land a few hits against low level pros. Against Firestarter, I wouldn’t manage even that.

“There’s a player five meters from you, Sarah!” Twinkle shouted. “Level ninety-nine.”

“Max level?” My voice trembled as I asked the most useless question in existence. Firestarter clearly felt the same way, for she scoffed at me. “Message Claire,” I whispered, loud enough for Twinkle to register. “Urgent help.”

“You’re a pleb,” the nymph said with the calm cockiness that won tournaments. “How did you get chosen for the quest?”

Answers floated in my mind. Was it luck? Fate? No one knew why they were selected, and yet looking at Firestarter, I was starting to agree with her that my being chosen could have been a mistake.

“How about you?” My confidence suddenly kicked in. On the inside, I was shaking, yet that wasn’t enough to get me to back down. “You know I’m protected, right?” I half bluffed. Until the completion of the quest, I remained under Claire's protection, though the likelihood of him doing anything to help me was rather low. “If you touch me, there’ll be trouble.”

“You tilted?” Firestarter snorted. “Think you’ve got the only sponsor? All ghosties have someone covering their asses.”

“Ghosties?” I let it slip.

Firestarter narrowed her eyes, looking at me as if I were a graphics bug. Clearly, that was something I should have known—something everyone should have known—and now I’d shown that I didn’t.

“You ain’t seen the ghost forum?” The nymph asked. “Got no echo threads?”

The questions were making less and less sense.

“How the fuck did you get on Legion’s board?” Her anger was palpable.

Before I could manage to articulate a counter question, Firestarter’s avatar morphed into a blur shooting towards me. My left hand tilted the tip of my rapier up in a instinctive attempt to react, far too slow to stop the kick that swiped through my feet, sending me to the ground.

Time suddenly slowed to a crawl. I could see my avatar start its fall, a millimeter at a time. Half a step from me, Firestarter had started to reach for her auxiliary weapon—a small shimmering dagger, tucked in the back left side of her belt. I had seen how aggressive she could be; in tournaments, she’d kill opponents with an endless chain of attacks, refusing to use her specials until the very end, when she’d group them in a single spectacular display to end the match. She could kill me in any of a hundred ways, and there was nothing I could do to stop her.

“Why?” Time reverted back to normal, with the blade sinking in my shoulder. “Why waste a slot on you?”

The ground crashed into my back with a thump, knocking the air out of me. What the heck?! I coughed, gasping for air as a shot of pain pierced my shoulder, making me instantly drop both rapiers and curl up in agony. This wasn’t supposed to happen! Even in dev mode, the pain wasn’t supposed to be this extreme!

“People wrecked themselves for years trying to get selected!” The nymph bent over me. I could feel her leg pressing against my back, and I lurched in response to the pulsing pain. “Fortunes lost, sacrifices you can’t imagine just to get noticed by Legion, and you managed to get a spot!”

“I didn’t want to!” I screamed. It was becoming impossible to think. “I’m doing it for the money!” I shouted. “It’s just for the money!”

I felt Firestarter lift me up. The few self-preservation instincts I had left tried to struggle, triggering all buffs and special attacks I had at my disposal. Even without weapons, a slashing attack was capable of inflicting moderate amounts of damage. My body twisted free, as I performed a series of strikes and slashes in between waves of daggers. I didn’t care if any of my attacks hit, I just wanted to get her away from me, and I succeeded. On my third Rain of Daggers, she slid to the right, strafed to the left, then did a double backward somersault, while casting a series of spells. Three status icons appeared above her avatar.

“Twinkle, stock up on daggers!” I shouted, taking the opportunity to quick-drink five health potions. With each, the pain diminished by a substantial amount, until it got reduced to the sensation of a bruise. “And potions.” I opened my menu, quick exit at the ready.

I glanced for my rapiers. Most of my special attacks were on cool down and Firestarter knew it. On every livestream I’d watched, she’d take advantage of such an opportunity to launch a second attack. This time, though, she didn’t. I watched her sheath her dagger, looking at me with a mixture of contempt and curiosity.

“You’re a wildcard,” she laughed.

“Maybe.” I had to keep her talking. “But I managed to find the gateway first.”

The nymph bit her lip. It only lasted for a moment, yet upon seeing it, I knew I was on the right track. That was the thing about pro gamers—they were so focused on the combat aspects of games that they completely ignored everything else. Pros didn’t go through dialogue options, they didn’t roleplay, haggle, or participate in social gameplay. They had sharpened their skills to such a point they didn’t have to. Tournaments and arena matches were won through fighting, not talking. There was no doubt that Firestarter was the better fighter; with the drama that pro gamers experienced, she was probably better in lying and intrigues as well. But when it came to actual social cues, she most likely was utterly lost.

“And I found it before you.” I scoffed. “How many clues did you find? Six? Seven?”

“Eight.” Her lip trembled.

“Eight and you still couldn’t find the gate?” I shook my head making a point to tsk as I did. “All that help and info and you only got here. Maybe you should have prayed to saint Jeremy?”

“I’m here now.” She crossed her arms.

“Why do you want to kill me that bad?” Twenty seconds to go. I stepped forward, casually moving closer to the X on my map. “I can’t win. Why not just enter the parasite world and let me be? You can always crush my ass later.”

“Everything's different past the gate,” she said, as if reciting from memory. “There is no stopping anyone there.”

“Did you learn that on the ghost forum?” My curiosity was stronger than my fear. “Did it say anything else?”

Firestarter looked away. If anyone had told me Firestarter was afraid, I’d have laughed in their face. Her, scared of a quest? The only thing pro players feared were blacklisting and age; everything else was a challenge to be completed. Their brains were wired that way. Even defeat would be seen as a temporary setback. And still, Firestarter was scared.

“Who is Legion?” I asked. “Did he create the quest?”

“No.” Firestarter looked up. The fear in her eyes was gone, replaced by scorching determination. “You’ll never find out.”

A game window appeared in front of my face.

Quote:

Quest Failed!

Time expired.

You failed to enter the Domain Gateway!

“No!” I shouted. This shouldn’t have happened. I had plenty of time until the end of the quest! Why did it claim that I had failed?!

Green code fragments appeared in the air around me, like cracks in reality. I barely gave them any thought. A full week of my life gone, wasted by my own stupidity. I had been a step away from completing the quest. I could have done so several times if I had bothered to check the quest clock!

“Sarah?” I heard Twinkle’s voice. “Sarah, where are you?”

“You stupid piece of crap!” I looked up. “Why didn’t—“

I stopped. What used to be sky was completely gone, replaced by a ceiling covered in green glowing symbols. Among the weird glyphs, I could see my name written over and over again, right next to the number four.

“You have a response from FlickerFlacker,” my AI companion continued, unfazed. “He said he’ll be waiting for you at Bent Cliffs four-four-seven-one. Do you want me to reply?”

“N-no,” I whispered. “There’s no need.”

What the hell is going on?!