White space stretched to infinity in all directions. My senses told me that I was falling, but my eyes insisted that I remained in the same exact place in the middle of nothing. Everything was like a dream during chemically induced sleep. The hair of my avatar flowed back, even though I felt could feel no air.

“Congratulations,” a crude retro synthetic voice said. It sounded like a computer voice in one of the movies my grandfather used to watch. “You have reached level one hundred.”

I have? I opened my menu. Normally, there would be a column of light, angelic harps and trumpets, pop-up windows, and a series of poorly done particles. This time, I didn't even have a menu. My entire inventory, all the maps, messages, character statistics, even the settings and personal account info were gone replaced by blank tabs.

“You have reached the domain gate,” the voice continued.

I waited, expecting further instructions to come. None did. Closing the menu, I looked at my hands. My avatar seemed unchanged, even if all my clothes had lost their texture. The cloak was missing, along with the overpowered sword, the teleport ring, and virtually every single piece of equipment I had. The only thing remaining was a trophy badge of the first time I joined Vesperia.

At least you have a sense of humour. The joining trophy was one of the least useful items in the game. It was something every player received after making an account and, thanks to the wearable trophy system, could be equipped. I used to wear it a lot as a child. When I reached level ten, I threw it in a lake because other children made fun of me. I had never taken another copy from my trophy collection since.

“Did I complete the quest?” I asked. Given that the quest description, along with the entire journal section, was missing, I could assume so. However, after the last week, I had learned not to take anything for granted.

“To leave the domain gate, you must make a sacrifice,” the voice echoed. “If you leave on your own, a sacrifice will be made for you.”

I felt my hair stand on end, even through my avatar. In a standard cut-scene, this would have passed as cheesy. Knowing what I did about the quest, I felt terrified. Any of the people I was involved with while pursuing the quest had the skills or means to take my life both figuratively and literally; and those were just the normal people. The real weirdos, those who stood behind the quest, behind “the game”: I had no idea what they were capable of.

“To return back to what was you will sacrifice your memory. You will sacrifice your memory if you return to what was.”

A large red window appeared in the nothingness beside me. The word BACK was written in large block letters. That was one option. Not a very appealing one by the sound of things. It was common knowledge that corporations were working on precise amnesia machines to protect their private information. The goal, as the official claim went, was to benefit employees, allowing people to change jobs without worrying about NDAs, copyright infringement, or company secrets. The corporation was going to ensure that all relevant data was erased from the person's mind, leaving their skills and personal memories intact. In reality, the only thing that even the most advanced tests managed to achieve was to scramble a person's mind to the point that their entire long-term memory became useless. In the best case, one of the test volunteers lost three years of his life.

“To go beyond the gate, you will sacrifice your life. If you sacrifice your life, you will move beyond.”

My stomach suddenly felt as if I'd eaten shards of glass. Sacrifice my life? This sounded like the crap the extreme techno cults spewed. Kill yourself while online, and your conscience will continue to live forever was a big thing a decade ago, until it was seen to be completely false. The cults in question had been banned, and most of their members arrested and made an example of throughout all media. If the quest was as old as the ghost forum claimed, though, it was possible they still believed that.

“Make your choice.” A green window with the word GO on it appeared opposite the red. “Choose within ten minutes, or a choice will be made for you.”

“You have to be kidding me!” I shouted. Almost on cue, a countdown clock appeared above my head. “Those are my only choices?”

No answer. The automated program had said its piece, and now it was up to me to get on with things. The sudden the realisation hit me, the same way it had when I was ten—the day that I realised that one day, I will exist no more.

“No!” I grabbed my head with both hands, hoping that the sensation will put an end to the fear screaming in my mind “No! No! No!”

Why did I have to choose between the impossible? Legion knew. All this time, he knew, and he had tried to warn me. If I had listened to him, I wouldn't be facing this now. I would be alive and rich, occasionally wondering what lay beyond the quest. Instead, I had fought my way to defeat.

Briskly, I twisted my body to face the red window. All I had to do was touch it, and I would be out of here. All my memories of the last week would be gone. I wouldn't remember this choice, the quest, my hopes and questions. That was the logical choice to make. Unless it wasn't just a week. What if I forgot my entire past? What if I would forget all my future past as well, living day for day, having to relearn everything about the world each time I woke up?

My body began to tremble. Such a life would be the same as a constant living death. I wouldn't wish that upon anyone, not even Legion. Suddenly a point of logic popped up in my mind, calming me like a shower after a hot day. If Legion knew what the choice was, he must have kept his memories, and in order to do that, he had to remain alive.

I looked at the green window over my shoulder. To go beyond the gate, I had to sacrifice my life. Could that be a metaphor? Going by the logic of the clues I'd gathered, it could well be that I had to forget my old life and start a new one. That didn't sound so bad. In many ways, it would be much better. So what if I lost my crappy job and stupid university program? The deal I'd made with Claire ensured that I had enough to get by on, possibly more. And there also was the option to move in with Jeff. Both were huge improvements from my current situation, and yet I found myself hesitating. If it really was my past life I had to give up, why did the quest system say “life” and not “past”?

Think about this logically, Sarah. There were people who had survived the quest, but also people who had disappeared completely. If I chose 'back,' everything I'd done would be for nothing, but at least I was certain to remain alive. If there were such a thing as certainty.

Slowly, I let my arms fall back to my sides.

Maybe I should let fate decide? I looked at the countdown clock. Two minutes had passed. Eight more, and the choice would be made for me. If someone had been protecting me thus far, they would guide me through this as well. My grandfather would often tell me stories of how he had taken care of my father and aunt when they were children, cleaning up their messes, making sure they were safe and fed. It would be the same here... if my protector had access to this space.

“Legion?” I asked looking around. “Elf girl?”

My words disappeared into the whiteness unanswered. Whatever was in store, I was on my own.

“Twinkle?”

The cat didn't appear, just as when I had been trapped in the dragon egg.

“Go or back,” I said, glancing at each of the windows. Seven minutes remained.

The thought of hitting both at the same time passed through my mind. I quickly dismissed it. There was no way I could be that precise, and even if I was, there was no telling what would happen. I'd get a new life, but forget everything I'd done? Actually, that didn't sound like a bad idea.

“Question,” I shouted. “Query.”

“What is the nature of your query?” the synthetic voice crackled as it spoke. Good to know that the quest creators had left some sort of help file.

“How do I select a choice?”

“Place your hand on the window of your choice. The choice will be confirmed upon removal.” Static crept in as it spoke. The functionality reminded me of the standard touchscreen press. It was clunky, uncomfortable, and avoided by nearly all game developers outside the extreme retro niche.

“Can I choose both at once?” I asked the obvious question.

“No.”

So much for that idea.

“What does sacrificing my life mean?” No answer. “What is the definition of memory?” No answer still. Apparently, the help only dealt with command issues.

Five minutes remaining. Half the time gone, and I still had no idea which to choose. The chill of fear started crawling down my neck once more. Chance of safety. In a game, I'd always go forward, knowing that even if I made the worse choice, I could go back and redo it, or if not, just move to another game. Pity things weren't like that in real life.

“How many people have completed the quest?” I asked. “Do you care if I complete it?”

The clock kept counting down, changing its retro digits every second and with them, my thoughts. Chance. Safety. Chance. Safety. Each choice seemed bad. At the end of every other quest, players had to choose between which was their best option. In my case, I had to find out which was the least bad.

Four minutes.

To hell with it! I struck the green window. The moment my knuckles touched the cold surface, the window crumbled into dust.

“Green sand.” I stared at the obvious. The computer voice had lied to me. Immediately, I turned around and reached for the red window. Too late. The only thing surrounding me was the endless whiteness. Moments later, the ground appeared.