“Bro, your stats are a mess,” Kellmen said, flipping through some of the various screens in front of him with his middle finger. He had offered to take a look at my class attributes and had spent the last minute or so looking horrified as he browsed.

We were in our room on the second floor of the Inn. It was a quaint, medieval-ish space, touting four simple beds resting in wooden frames. Each of them were immaculately made up in soft linen sheets and a throw at the foot for warmth. A single armchair occupied the spot in front of a fireplace, the neglected flames simmering peacefully in the hearth. There was a rugged-looking animal fur draped across the back, adding to the Dark Ages feel.

The walls of our room were a blanched taupe and were interjected with dark wooden beams, the same color as the knotted planks of the floor. There were two windows behind the beds that faced the alleyway behind the tavern, and they gave me the perfect vantage point of the wooden building in the lot behind. On the wall to my right, another view faced out at the city.

The whole space was laid out very cozily and I felt right at home. I was also exhausted. The day’s events had really taken it out of me to the point that the sight of the plush pillows and fresh sheets was almost too inviting to resist.

Kellmen scoffed as he continued his investigation of my strengths.

“Your highest Ability Score is Agility—which is great for a Scamp, depending on what you end up specializing in, but some of your other skills and abilities are a joke.”

He shook his head very disapprovingly and tutted.

“For instance—you’ve got a decent Intellect score, but low Might and Endurance. Not exactly world-changing, but with that makeup, you should definitely have your trained Skill be something like Sneak or Archery, but instead, you’ve got…”

He paused, scanning my stats, and I saw his face twitch.

“Cooking?” he laughed.

“Uh…” I started, but he interrupted me.

“That’s a dopey Skill to pour your experience into, man. I’ve never actually seen someone do that, except for non-combat types. Are you planning to just set up shop as a chef or something?”

“I didn’t know that was something I could do,” I said, shaking my head, “but no, I want to fight. I need to find Lina.”

“Right, you’ve got a damsel in distress sitch going on. I get it,” Kellmen said, and his expression softened.

“Look, man,” he said, putting his hand on my shoulder, “I’m not trying to give you a hard time. You already seem to be dealing with whatever is going on with your interface. Normally you would have started in a Noob-friendly area with some tutorials. But here we are…”

I shrugged.

“Jesus, I dunno,” I said, “ I definitely didn’t decide on any of these stats. I figured they were just based on my real-life abilities.”

“You didn’t decide on them?” Kellmen asked, “what do you mean?”

“Well,” I explained, “this is how they were when I arrived. My assumption was that Skills were automatically generated or something.”

“I see,” Kellmen said, tucking his chin down and clasping his arms behind his back thoughtfully.

“Anubis said something similar, but I assumed it was because he claims he was a dog in the other world, which I took to be confusion. But you weren’t a dog. Were you?”

I shook my head.

“...and you referred to real life…” He mused, chewing on this information.

“Yeah…” I said.

Should I tell him the truth?

“You didn’t know any of this?” Kellmen asked as if hoping I’d have a sudden wellspring of information gurgle on out.

“Dude, I don’t even know how to open my Menu,” I admitted.

“Well,” Kellmen said, perking up and smiling, “looks like you’re just fucked then.”

I frowned.

“What? Seriously?”

The Warrior chuckled.

“No, not really. There are plenty of ways we can work around what you have. You’re still Level One, man. There are some skills we can make sure that you take to balance your build. We will just have to train the shit out of them. Fortunately for you, I’m an expert instructor. I’ll teach you what you need to know.”

He cracked his knuckles dramatically and sat down in the comfortable-looking leather chair with the bearskin throw. He propped his legs up on the matching ottoman next to the fireplace and crossed them at the ankles.

“So,” he said, leveling his gaze at me seriously, “let’s figure out your Menu motion. Because without that, you won’t be able to do much else. Are you right or left-handed?”

“Right-handed,” I said.

“Alright, so the default motion is a circle,” he said, tracing a sphere shape in the air with his middle finger. “Try that.”

I mimicked the same shape, but nothing happened.

“Maybe left handed?” He offered with a shrug. “It only works with the hand you choose at the start. For instance, I’m left handed, so if I try to access the Menu with my right…”

He made a figure-eight pattern with the middle finger on his right hand, and no Menu emerged.

I tried the default shape with my left hand but still no effect. I’d just have to patiently rely on trial and error until I had success.

“Well,” Kellmen said, leaning back, “a lot of people use the first letter of their name. Try that?”

I drew a V in the air. Nothing. I did it again with my left hand. Still nada. I looked over at Kellmen for more advice. He raised an eyebrow.

“That sucks,” he offered, “maybe different letters of the alphabet?”

I sighed loudly and audibly.

“Hey man,” Kellmen said, shrugging again, “I’m just trying to help. Unless you’ve got a better idea?”

I didn’t. The suggestion was actually pretty reasonable, and an excellent way to narrow it down if nothing else. So that’s what I did.

I went through each letter of the alphabet, carefully tracing them in the air with each finger on my right hand because Kellmen specified that the digit used mattered as well. The process was painstakingly slow, and during each movement I silently cursed this world and its inflexible rules and lack of tutorial—at least just for me.

All the while, Kellmen explained things to me. His words had a remarkably cheerful effect on me while I went about my drudgery.

"So, you've got the three Base Classes," he began, holding up the same number of digits with his right hand, "Warriors, which of course you know, are the most martial class. We careen around, smashing stuff with weapons and have a great time while we are at it. There're Druids, which, here, is anyone whose majority output is Magick. Then there's you guys, the Scamps, you're, for lack of a better word, sort of the left overs."

He saw my look and held his hands up defensively.

"I'm just kidding, man," he said, laughing, "Scamps tend toward the skill monkey variety, or the unusual abilities that don't really fit anywhere else."

I had already figured out the Warrior and Scamp part, but I had no idea that Druid was the Class name for Magick users. It was an interesting idea, but I supposed that with the whole Celtic theme this place seemed to exhibit, that it made sense.

"You said you were a Knight," I said, still attempting to trace letters. I had to make my responses shorter or I was finding that I'd mess up the pattern and have to try again.

"I take it that means there are Subclasses, then?"

"Right-o," Kellmen said, touching his forehead, "at Level Six you get to choose your Subclass. You have to do that at a Darach Plinth."

"The what?"

"Darach means 'oak'. Each major city has one of these. You swear your fealty, and choose your Order Class there. There's a bunch of them, but if you don't have certain requirements, it'll be locked out."

"So, you could work hard and still not get the one you were gunning for?" I asked.

"Sort of," Kellmen said, "you can turn down the Darach, but only once. So if you find that you don't have, say, a high enough Level with a Combat Skill, you can wait and return when it's better and choose the one you want."

He chuckled.

"Tibbets had to do that," he continued, "his Stealth was garbage, so he turned down the Plinth. He didn't get his Order until Level Eight."

"Woah," I exclaimed, "that is... honestly not that surprising. He struck me as the kind of guy to take short cuts."

Kellmen nodded, but curtly.

"He is good at putting the cart before the horse, but he's a hard worker. He seriously disappeared for a few days, and spent that whole time stalking around Skully dungeons, attempting to go unnoticed by really powerful creatures. I've never seen anyone Level so quickly."

I was taken aback. I was noticing Kellmen never had a harsh word to say about his companions, and any time I poked at them it seemed he would always defend them, though diplomatically. It was a refreshing trait, and something that I'm sure the others had noticed. It gave me the impression that Kellmen was a good leader. It was easy to follow someone you knew had your back, in combat and outside of it. I moved on.

"So you're in the Warrior Class," I said, "Tibbets is a Scamp, and Berieal is a Druid. Iam seems like a Warrior as well, but what exactly is a Templar?" I got the impression is was similar to what a lot of games called a Paladin.

"You're right," Kellmen said, "it is in the Warrior tree, but it's a bit different that some of the other branches because as a Templar, Iam gets to have access to lots of Magick as well. He compromises between weapon combat and attacking with his Fey."

"I see," I said, "so he uses what, holy magick or something?"

"No," Kellmen said, shrugging, "Templar's use Elemental type powers. It's similar to what I've heard described as a Mageblade. I've seem him use both at the same time. One time, in a duel, he blocked one-handed with his sword, and then blasted the dude in the face with a fireball. It was really fucking funny."

Iam seemed like anything but hilarious to me. The dude was seriously intimidating and gave me the impression that if I made one wrong move, he'd blast me in the face with a spell.

"What tree is Anubis in?" I asked.

"Ah," Kellmen said, his smile wide, "he's in the Scamp tree as well. His Order is Scout."

That put a smile on my face.

He's a Scamp just like his old man.

"...and Scout is?"

"Scouts are experts with projectiles and ranged weapons. Not a bad hand at Stealth either."

I remembered him switching weapons after the fight with Stratholm and his cronies. It made sense that if his Order was focused on ranged attacks, he'd feel more comfortable with a bow.

"So how many Orders are there?" I asked.

"Not sure, exactly," Kellmen said, "there's a least a handful for each tree, but there's probably a lot more. There's some pretty interesting ones, especially for Scamps. That's the Class you have to start at to get to Troubadour. Which is essentially a Bard."

"So, if I wanted to be, say, a Knight or a Templar, I wouldn't be able to?" I asked.

"Nope," Kellmen said, folding his arms and plopping down into the chair by the fire, "not unless you can get your hands on a Dagda Egg."

"I'm just going to wait for you to tell me what that is," I said dryly.

Kellmen laughed.

"It's a Legendary item, and really hard to come by. But it allows you to reroll your Class. You'll start at Level One again, but it's a small price to pay to fix a hasty choice," he said, "there's also a rumor that there's a few other things you can do with a Dagda Egg, like select a your starting Race as well, but I don't know if there's any truth to that. I've never met anyone who's found one."

That was food for thought. The idea of an item that could let you select all new stuff was enticing to me.

If I could get my hands on it, I wouldn't have to be stuck with the choice that was made for me.

"What Order do you think I should go for?" I asked, forgetting my Menu task. With a start, I began tracing in the air again.

Where was I? M? R?

"That's tough," Kellmen said, "fortunately for you, at Level One, you've got a lot of options available still. I'd work toward whatever seems the most interesting to you. There's loads of stuff you can vie for. I personally think Prowlers are pretty dope. But, I also have a buddy who is a Warden. Those guys get animal companions that they fight alongside."

He paused, giving me a good one-over before speaking again.

"You might be more suited to a less combat-oriented Class. You're don't seem to be the biggest fan of fighting."

"I'm not," I admitted sheepishly, "I've always been one to try and get out of a situation as quickly as possible."

" 'Might want to look into something like the Scout or maybe even a Battleboffin."

"Battleboffin," I said, "that's a fun name."

"Yeah, Battleboffins set up traps and snares and tinker with objects to have as little amount of contact in a fair fight as possible. They effectively use guerilla tactics and dirty up the playing field."

Staying out of arm's reach of another sword or ax is definitely in my desired skillset.

"I'll mull that over," I said, "as you said, I have plenty of time to decide."

"I'm excited for you," Kellmen said, "I wish I had more information when I'd started out. Consider this lesson free. The next one is going to cost you though."

I got confused where I was again and laughed.

"Well, Master Kellmen. As informational as this is, I think I have to focus on the task at hand or it won't matter what I decide on."

"Fair enough," he said, "I'll shut up. If you need anything, I will literally be less than three feet away, making schematics on how I'm going to Min/Max the shit out of you."

I set about to my duty again, sighing regrettfully at the tedium. It seemed to be taking forever. As the minutes passed, I sort of blocked out the rest of the world, pursuing the endeavor of identifying my symbol with a singular focus.

Tracing Z, I began to regret that I had not alternated with both hands. I decided that I’d take a break before moving on to my left hand after getting all the way down. Just that much repetitive movement had made my wrist sore and the tendons in my hand throb. It was quite the workout.

I looked over at Kellmen. He must've gotten bored watching me fail to activate my Menu. He was absorbed in a display window with a lot of text. Every few moments, he would scroll down halfway and continue.

I shuffled over to the small window. I unlatched it, sliding the two halves apart and out, allowing the evening breeze to flutter in. It was chilly, but pleasant, and the scent was remarkably nostalgic. It reminded me of some time in my past—my childhood maybe, though I could only guess as to how. I took another deep breath and looked down below at Gruoch.

The town had a happy bustle to it. The sun was just touching down on the horizon, and its red-orange glow filled me with a warm sense of comfort. I found the narrow, cobblestoned lanes and rufous, brick roads growing out from the market square that I had passed through on the path to the Inn, and I followed its length with my haze. In the center of the market was the tall and imposing statue of Shelor Mossbow, glowering with judgment at Gruoch’s busy denizens, his stone fingers wrapped around the handle of a threatening sword.

On the far side of the town, the red and grey spire of the church poked up at the quickly approaching night. At that moment, the toll of the evening bell sounded, and I looked back to the market to see that the stalls were closing.

I selected a stall near the statue and watched for a while as the owner carefully put away his wares. He was a human, a bit shorter than average with a balding head but with a small amount of brown hair still clinging to his scalp. I couldn’t divine much more than that save that as he turned, I was able to make out a big, bristling mustache.

The shopkeeper took a stick and pressed it to the underside of the mud-colored awning above his counter, tripping the catch that held it in place. The man eased the canopy down and then secured it with a length of rope, pulling a few times to tighten it. Then he threw a bolt of fabric over his shoulder and made his way out of my sight.

This is a living, breathing world. I thought to myself.

I thought of the beggar woman at the entryway to the city and felt a biting regret. I wish I’d been able to give her an offering like Kellmen and Berieal had. It gnawed at my conscience that I’d had nothing to offer.

The first bit of coin I get, I’ll be sure to share with her.

I turned to the door. Anubis still hadn’t returned from his errand, and I was beginning to wonder if he was going to be alright. Kellmen hadn’t seemed concerned. I looked over at him.

Kellmen was starting to doze, his Menu still open, but both he and it were beginning to slump. He kept nodding off and then waking up with a mild start before returning to process all over again.

I’d better get back at it. At this rate, I’ll be tracing shapes come Solstice!

Pleased with my obviously full immersion into this new reality, I looked down at my right palm.

I stretched my hand and forearm for a moment to ease the burning in my muscles. Then I set to work at going through the alphabet again with each finger on my left hand.

———

As I finished tracing the last line, I heard a quiet chirp, and my Menu sprang open in front of me. I could have cried! Kellmen, who had been deep asleep, instantly leaped to his feet, his eyes wide.

“Dude!” He shouted and clapped me on the shoulder.

I beamed.

“Look what I did,” I said proudly and then zeroed in on the interface before me. My Menu curved around my body like I had seen with the others. It seemed to be orientation-locked on the center of my chest. I saw that when I pivoted my body, it followed. But not when I moved my head.

Interesting.

“What’s the shape?” Kellmen asked, walking over to me and looking at my display over my shoulder. I sheepishly turned to him.

“Should you be looking at this stuff?” I asked, seeing his mouth moving slightly as he read the listings on my option wheel. He paused and looked me right in the eyes.

“Don’t change the subject, Vale. What was your movement shape? Was it something inappropriate?”

I shook my head.

“Then what?”

I made the wiping away motion that I’d seen Kellmen and Anubis both do, and my display vanished. Then I used my index finger to trace a shape in the air.

ろ

“What the hell is that?” Kellmen asked as my Menu sprang back into view.

“Japanese,” I said.

“Are you Japanese?” Kellmen asked.

“No. But it’s weird because this is my favorite Japanese hiragana character,” I said.

“Dude, are you a weeb?” Kellmen asked.

“What’s that?” It sounded offensive.

“It’s a term for people obsessed with Japanese culture. You know, reading manga, watching anime, and buying a bunch of katanas. Like, too many katanas.”

“Oh shit, I think so,” I said.

“That’s cool,” Kellmen said, “me too, sorta.”

How can someone not remember the world before, but know that terminlogy?

“Okay, shut up and let me look this over,” I said, and Kellmen dropped his hands and nodded.

“You got it, Boss.”

Finally. This was what I was most looking forward to seeing. The Menu began as a stationary wheel. When I held my finger over the center of it, four options branched out immediately. They filled the area in front of me and curved around me in space. I gave them a quick review.

Status

Item Pouch

Journal

Map

I selected Status and felt a tactile rumble beneath my fingertip, confirming my choice. The other menus faded into transparency as the tab activated and expanded in front of me.

My body surged with excitement. The first thing I noticed was a paper-doll version of myself—my alternate self—standing on the left side of the interface. The little Vale was green-skinned and had the same ashen locks I was still trying to get used to. The avatar was dressed like I was as well, with a pair of tattered pants, leather boots, a plain white shirt, and the leather jerkin that Berieal had given me. Mini-Vale was also holding the Shattered Wood. There were various empty slots around my character that had greyed-out images in them, and I recognized this as equipment placement. There were already four slots that had items in them: the feet, the legs, the torso, and a slot called “shirt.” They coincided with the apparel I had already donned. Under that was the section for “Main Hand,” and that’s where my weapon resided

This is so cool!

I hadn’t felt this feeling for a long time. Butterflies danced in my chest and stomach, and I could see my fingers trembling in the air in front of me as I looked over the options. It was just like those Christmases where I’d gotten the perfect gift, usually a video game, and the anticipation of the first few screens before seeing what the world inside was actually about. This was that feeling all over again. A mix of nostalgia and the unknown.

Above the little Vale avatar were a few informational stats.

Name: Vale

Title: None

Level: 1

Race: Sidhe

Class: Scamp

Guild: None

Reputation: None

This seemed pretty standard so far. Though if given the option, maybe I’d have chosen a cooler name than my own. Vale likely wouldn’t strike fear or awe in the hearts of the other Players in the world. Kellmen had indicated that there were hundreds of players here, so it was interesting that no one had selected the name Vale before I received it.

I took particular note of Reputation. Seeing that as an option got my blood pumping.

Was this a world where you could gain renown or notoriety through deeds or actions?

That would be something to ask Kellmen about once I was done.

I widened the aperture of my view by stretching my fingers over it, zooming in slightly. This was more just to test the capabilities of how it might function rather than for necessity. It worked beautifully, expanding and contracting with the flow of my gesture. I moved on to the next section with glee.

Vitals

HP: 50/50

Fey: 30/30

Stamina: 100/100

Experience: 538/1000 to Level 2

Attributes

Might: 1

Agility: 5

Endurance: 1

Resonance: 3

Intellect: 4

Charisma: 2

Offense

Attack: 2

Speed: 3

Damage Per Second: 2

Critical %: 0.02

Fey Damage: 3

Defense

Evasion %: 4

Health Regeneration: 0

Shield: 0

Fey Resistance: 5

So this is Level One, eh?

I would need to figure out what features, Skills, and Abilities affected me most in combat. I never wanted to be useless again if I could help it. I took a moment to drink in all of this new information. Still, I knew I’d have to give it a full dive to truly understand and deploy anything resembling expertise. I’d definitely be spending a lot of time pulling this apart and examining it closer, learning the nuances, and eventually—hopefully, attaining a mastery.

After switching to my Item Pouch, I found that other than my equipment, I only had one additional item.

??? [???]

Unknown Item

I selected the object, and a prompt appeared, asking if I’d like to examine it. After choosing in the affirmative, it materialized in front of me. A long stretch of woven cord limply hung from my open palm.

Anubis’ leash!

During all the chaos and commotion I had forgotten I still had his leash in my hand when I’d leaped into the rift. I wasn’t sure why, but that alone made me a little homesick.

I absently reached for the ring hanging around my neck and brought it up for inspection. My hands trembling, I examined it in the light. It hadn’t even been scuffed a bit by the events of the last twenty-four hours, and still gleamed immaculately.

Oh no!

I felt like I couldn’t breathe. I quickly let the ring fall again, bouncing off of my tightening chest.

For the first time in a few hours, I remembered Lina and a sliver of pain slid into my gut. Hot shame crept over me in response, and I slumped where I stood. How could I have lost focus on the most premiere aspect of my waking life? None of this mattered if I couldn’t reach her. I’d been so preoccupied with this goddamned User Interface that it had distracted me from what was truly important.

Kellmen seemed to notice the change in my demeanor.

“You alright, Nub?” he asked.

“Yeah, sorry,” I said, waving away my Menu, “just a little tired.”

“Well, you’ve had a long day,” he said, motioning to one of the four beds in the room with a flourish, “why don’t you grab a nap? Anubis should be back shortly with some gear, and then we can eat some din-din.”

That seemed like a great idea. I was beginning to enjoy Kellmen’s casual style of speaking. Normally, when hearing things like that I would have cringed. But the Guildmaster’s cadence and timing just made it sound fun.

Maybe I should try to jazz up my conversation with silly phrases?

I was noticing that my Stamina bar had been dropping a lot faster, even with menial tasks. Perhaps it was a failsafe to keep someone from grinding all night? Sleep was one thing that seemed to be the same in both this world and my old world.

I nodded at Kellmen and slunk down to the bed, kicking off my boots. I shrugged out of my jerkin and still in my shirt and pants, slid under the covers. Lastly, I hovered a finger over the leash, still dangling from my hand.

Would you like to name [Unknown Item]?

I smiled, and without a second thought, confirmed a new name for the item.

Walky Whip

[Junk Item]

Durability: 30/30

My stomach growled. I was so very hungry, but I knew with my exhaustion, I’d definitely be out like a light soon, so I didn’t mind.

Kellmen went back to the chair by the fire and opened his Menu up, and in a moment, a book appeared in his hand. He propped a knee up and rested the book against his leg, opening it to a spot in the middle.

The soft scratch of turning pages was a sleep aid. I felt my eyes getting heavy and suddenly caught myself with my eyes closed. I strained to stay awake. I wasn’t sure what would happen if I drifted off.

Would I still be here when I woke up?

My eyes were sandy, and they closed again. They fluttered back open for another moment, and I found myself thinking about the potential food I’d be consuming after a short rest. That was my last thought as I slipped into the dark caress of a dreamless sleep.

---------------

I was tense.

I opened my eyes, my anxiety going wild. Something was off. It was dark, save for moonlight creeping in.

Where am I?

The room was unfamiliar and the sheets smelled strange. The window looked different than mine and the moonlight was odd. My first thought was that I was in a hotel.

Slowly, my thoughts became more coherent, and I remembered the unlikely events that had recently transpired.

The Anvilhead.

Someone had placed a plate of food on the bedside nightstand, and I realized I must have been sleeping a lot longer than I intended. A round slab of seasoned meat and a few glistening onion bulbs sat in a pool of brown sauce, long cold but still fragrant. A fluffy roll of bread sat on top of the mass of food, dried rivulets of butter trailing along its cracked crust where it had melted and seeped down.

Three feet away, asleep in the bed next to mine was Kellmen, his mouth open, a muted snore escaping from his parted lips. His dark hair was plastered to his brow and there were dozens of crisscrossed lines on his face from his deep slumber. Next to the bed was his glittering blue chainmail and boots.

I heard a crunch and froze.

What was that?

I sat up slowly, shifting my weight as quietly as possible. There was a form sitting on the edge of my bed.

The shaggy specter was propped up stiffly, head cocked to the side, listening. I could make out that they were fully dressed in adventuring gear with a bow and quiver close at hand on the bed. There was a second, louder crunch. Whatever was making the sound was getting closer.

“Anubis?” I whispered.

My companion held up a finger to quiet me, and after a moment, there was another heavy crunch. A silhouette moved slowly under the crack of the door.

“Master! Get dow—“ Anubis shouted as the door exploded inward.

A cloud of dust and splinters obscured my vision. I could smell the distinct scent of smoke as debris filled the air. I heard the snap of a bowstring—Anubis, hopefully. I felt myself pulled to the floor as an intense heat erupted around me, and the pungent odor of scorched wood filled my nostrils. A loud whoosh forced me to cover my ears just as a gigantic flame roasted the bed I’d just been in.

I looked to the hands clenching my collar, the ones that had ripped me from my mattress. Kellmen peered at me from behind a curtain of matted hair, his eyes bloodshot and severe. He made a swiping motion and pointed towards where the door would be if I could see it. I understood that loud and clear.

Get ready to run.

I was useless in combat at the moment, and there was no way Kellmen would risk sending me to my death so soon. I had to believe he had a plan to let me escape from this situation with my life intact.

All around us was the overwhelming chaos of combat. I could hear Anubis snarl with the continual thwack of his bowstring, and the angry oaths as several foes felt the sting of his arrows.

I quickly opened my Menu and selected the Shattered Wood. The weapon appeared, and I readied myself, cursing silently that I didn’t have something more powerful to defend myself with. I looked to Kellmen and nodded. He was still in a crouch, but lifted the Constable, motioning for me to do the same with my weapon.

I raised the Shattered Wood, and after just a heartbeat, Kellmen dropped his hand and leaped to his feet.

“Yarrgh!” he shouted, and his Warhammer lit up with a blinding, magical light. He thrust it at the mist. Instantly, the cloud of obfuscation seemed to dilate, creating a tunnel of clarity straight to the now obliterated door. I jumped up and began to run, swinging my club around myself wildly. I reached the doorway much quicker than I thought, stumbling out into the hallway.

Torchlight danced along the walls, casting long shadows in the dim, and I wheeled around to get my bearings. The quiet hallway was a very stark contrast to the angry commotion of the room I’d just emerged from. I could hear my breath as if from far away, and my heart still pounded in my ears. I was full-dive into a fight-or-flight scenario. Then I heard something else. Heavy footfalls to my right.

A dozen feet away from me, a shape emerged suddenly from the darkened stairwell leading downstairs. I didn’t have time to think. I just reacted.

I felt the ground drop away as I hurled myself at the shadow. In a movement I’d never have thought possible, I cleared the distance like an Olympic long jumper and raised the Shattered Wood at the same time.

Flying through the air, time seemed to slow down as I made a desperate swipe with my club at the ascending shape.

Crunch!

I hit the ground hard.

I couldn’t breathe.

Something had slammed into my chest, caving it in. I dropped the Shattered Wood and struggled to pull my shirt off. My panic brain was in overdrive again, and I felt as though I needed to see how bad the wound was.

My HP flashed urgently at me.

Low Health! 2/50 HP remaining!

The shape from the stairwell slid into my line of sight.

A gigantic Fomorian towered over me, eyes glowing red. His cruel smile was made of broken, yellow daggers, and his eyes were furiously burning coals. He was wearing a nightmare of jagged pauldron spikes that scraped along the walls as he approached, a flowing black cloak partially covering the menacing black armor. His horns were as thick as my wrist and broken or chipped in places, but seemed polished and dangerous, made of night but with a deadly point. In his gargantuan, grey-brown hands, he held a bleak hammer—black everywhere save for the shining silver head. Without a doubt, that had been what he’d countered me with.

Lifting his hammer, the Fomorian let out a snort and shook his head.

I found I couldn’t take any more breaths.

Low Health! 1/50 HP remaining!

I’m dying. How can I die at an Inn? Kellmen said that wasn't possible!

I tried to focus on his name as it floated tauntingly above his head.

Donnagal

It was the last thing I saw before the world went black.