Jake bit his lip and prayed that a facade of ignorance would hold back the ranger. “A Hero?”

Jeremy’s hardened gaze dissolved what little hope there was. Even more so than usual, he wasn’t in the mood for games. Still, if Jeremy had wanted to kill Jake, he could have done so easily. That he hadn’t yet could only be a good sign.

Was he owed the truth? Jeremy had stuck his neck out for Jake and saved his life at least once. And now, he might even be about to trust Jake with magic. And, crucially, Cara had faith in him.

Jake’s heart refused to still, but he forced out a smile anyway. “It says Hero on my status. I don’t know what it means. How’d you know?”

“I had my suspicions. Your double leveling confirmed it.”

Jake’s brow furled. “Suspicions?”

“My father used to speak of a human who passed through about a thousand years ago. From Earth too, though, unlike you, Sigurd was a trained warrior.”

The name sounded Germanic, or Viking, perhaps. Jake relaxed, his muscles uncoiling from battle readiness. “That would make sense. A lot’s changed in the last thousand years on Earth.”

Jeremy’s eyebrows raised. “Such as?”

Where would one even start with that question? “Pretty much everything, really. But, whatever connection there is between our worlds, it’s been there a long time.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Time, for one thing. Seconds, hours, minutes, days—all our units of time are the same. That can’t be a coincidence.”

Despite thinking about it a lot, being from another world was a wedge topic. He’d found it easier not to talk about it, especially given some of his conclusions. Finally speaking about it with Jeremy, the words gushed out, carried on a wave of pent-up frustration.

“Some creatures here are almost identical to those on Earth, even named the same—like the gorilla, and the snake. Elves don’t exist in our world, but do in our mythology. Whatever links us, it’s been going on a long time.”

Jake stopped short of telling him everything. How would you tell someone their world might be a computer simulation? That they’re probably not flesh and blood, but a real, bona fide AI?

Besides, if this was a simulation, that raised a host of other questions. Questions that didn’t have answers yet and were best left unthought, let alone spoken out loud. Questions about what it meant to be stuck in a computer program, even one as advanced as this.

Questions like whether Jake was alive anymore.

Jeremy listened, nodding thoughtfully and taking his time before speaking again. “I agree. Given the timing of your arrival, I believe you are connected in some way to the dungeon spawn.”

Jake studied the ranger, both what he was saying, and what he was not. Was he making an accusation? No. If Jeremy had an accusation, he wouldn’t shy away from making it. He had to be merely following the evidence, the same as Jake.

Except Jeremy was missing a crucial piece of the puzzle. The burden the world had foisted on Jake loomed, as undeniably important as it was unwelcome. Jake’s chest tightened and he turned away from the ranger’s piercing gaze.

Quest received: Save your father, save the world.

It didn’t even have the decency to come with a quest reward. Maybe whoever or whatever had granted it thought saving the world was reward enough, but that only rubbed salt in the wound. Not only had this world stolen his father, but now it demanded that he save it?

Jeremy continued, his sharp tone verging closer to an accusation. “Sigurd had a quest. One that he had to complete before he could return to Earth.”

The mention of going home sent a jolt through Jake. Sure, he was totally fired and probably getting kicked out of university, but even going back to beans and rice sounded better than being ripped to pieces by another gorilla, possibly multiple times. And if anyone might be able to help with an impossible quest, it would be the several-hundred-year-old teleporting elf.

But couldn’t Jeremy’s implicit question have been something, anything, else? “I have one too,” Jake said meekly.

Silence. Jeremy didn’t need to speak. His stony, expectant look asked for him.

“Save my father, save the world.” Anger spread through Jake like wildfire, burning and consuming everything in its path. “Rescue a man I barely know to save a world that isn’t mine.”

The wood elf tilted his head, his features softening ever so slightly. “You risked your life today to rescue a woman you barely know and save a village that isn’t yours.”

What does he care? “And myself in the process.”

Jeremy shrugged. “That’s not why. You could have run.”

“You barely know me. Besides, I come back from the dead, don’t I?”

An unnatural stillness came over the ranger. His eyes darkened and what little smile he had faded away. “There’s a cost. That’s what my father said on the matter.”

Jake’s heart sank. He’d known it was too good to be true. “What sort of cost?”

“I don’t know. Whenever they spoke of it, he would forget what Sigurd told him about dying, as if the information itself was enchanted. All he could recall was there was a cost, and not a small one.”

Ominous, though it had to be better than death, surely? A chill ran down Jake’s spine. The myth of Prometheus, condemned to an eternity of his liver being eaten by an eagle, suddenly sounded far too plausible. “I’ll try not to die, then.”

“Everyone dies, Jake. All you can do is be prepared and delay it.”

Jake nodded. Truer words were never spoken. “You said you were going to teach me magic?”

***

“Good,” Jeremy said, his brusque tone killing any errant thoughts that it was a compliment. “What are the main types of components? Why do we use them?”

Over an hour, and not a single piece of magic cast. Jake gritted his teeth and pondered what could possibly make his previous answer more acceptable to the old elf. Nothing came to mind. “Motion, words, thoughts, conduits, and reagents. They’re what structure the spell and stop it exploding.”

Jeremy paused a little too long before grunting and saying, “Close enough.”

Frustration boiled in Jake’s chest. It didn’t seem like Jeremy’s style, but the old man had to be jerking him around. “That’s the same answer I gave half an hour ago!”

The ranger shook his head, the beginnings of a smirk peeking through an otherwise carefully controlled poker face. “No. It’s not.”

Jake held his hands down by his side, the burning need to clench them becoming harder and harder to fight. “I remember what I said. Same answer, word for word.” It made no sense, unless this was about more than reciting knowledge. Jake’s eyes widened. “It’s a test, isn’t it? You know damned well it’s the same answer.”

Jeremy smiled and bowed briefly. “Correct. Spellcasting requires two key attributes not on your character sheet—the patience to get it right, and the certainty to drive it home when you do.”

The drum of anger banging in Jake’s chest begrudgingly slowed. “I… can see the logic,” he said, wishing that he couldn’t. Jake glanced up and frowned at the dying sunlight. “Will you teach me some magic now?”

The ranger nodded. “We start small. A fire-starting spell—the only fire spell to be used in the Forest. If I ever catch you using something larger, I will personally bury you alive.”

Jake gulped. “Duly noted. Aren’t fires good for forests, though? Help clean out the undergrowth?”

Jeremy looked at him like he was insane. “The Forest looks after itself. It does not need us—or you—to ‘help’ it with fire. Now, pay attention.”

This close to actual magic, with every detail potentially important, Jake didn’t need to be told. With an electric tingling in his chest, he focused every bit of attention on the casting.

Jeremy’s fingers moved slowly, summoning a faint silvery glow. The speed he went, the shapes he formed in the air, which joints bent when—all details Jake studied carefully.

As the glow reached its surprisingly dim peak, Jeremy hissed, “Enkir”, the Wood Elvish word for fire. A spark burst from the midpoint of his hands, falling into the already charred remains of a campfire. The fire flickered briefly before dying, devoid of fuel.

Simple as it was, it was magic, close enough to taste and waiting to be cast. Even so, a niggling suspicion refused to go away. “That’s not the same spell you use to light fires.”

Jeremy’s stony expression gave away nothing. “Why?”

“It’s a simple, low power spell, yet you used mirrored motion and a spell word to cast it. It’s a training spell.”

“Correct,” Jeremy said. “One more time?”

“Yeah, one sec.” Determined to learn every detail he could, Jake dropped both his Perception perk points into Discern Magic and activated the ability. “Let’s do this.”

The world changed despite staying exactly the same. Everything suddenly had a depth that it hadn’t had before, like going from black and white to color. It was a lot like putting on 3d glasses for the first time, but without the fakeness that always ruined it.

Too much information flooded in. The world spun. Jake’s stomach churned and he stumbled, only just catching himself on Jeremy’s shoulder. Jake’s overworked eyes begged him to stop. He blinked several times but didn’t allow himself to deactivate the ability. If VR took some getting used to, it stood to reason that a whole new kind of vision would as well. The ability to see and analyze magic would be worth it.

Jeremy patted him on the back. “It gets easier.”

Embarrassing as it was, it was good to know that he wasn’t the only one who struggled at first. After a few disorienting minutes, the world settled. He breathed deeply and swallowed. Was that it?

A tentative look around resulted in dizziness, but thankfully nothing more. Trusting once more in his own sense of balance, he pulled himself upright. Magic had already waited long enough. “I’m ready.”

The ranger nodded and proceeded with the spell. Silvery threads formed around the smooth motions of his hands. The threads pulled and tugged at blue ethereal mana, weaving it into a beautiful and elegant design invisible to ordinary sight.

“Enkir.” With a hissed word and an anticlimactic spark, the spell completed.

Now it was Jake’s turn. He stepped up, took a deep breath, and drew on his mana for the first time. It pulled back, refusing to obey so easily. It had to be seized and made to obey by force of will. Energy surged through him, responding to his orders with a swell of power.

“Dial it back down,” Jeremy growled, taking a few steps back. “Don’t force it.”

Whatever the cost of dying was, finding out later was better than sooner, for once. Jake released his grip on the mana and it fled back to the well inside him. He followed it back to its source and reached out to it with his mind.

The contact carried with it a sense of purpose, of meaning. The mana wasn’t alive, but it wasn’t inanimate either. It didn’t have desires the way a person does, but it craved both to be cast and to be free. A dangerous combination.

With the promise of becoming part of a spell, Jake coaxed out a sliver of magic, enough for the simple training spell. Imitating Jeremy’s motions, he weaved the spell together, while the mana probed for every opportunity to break free of the spell’s confines. “Enkir.”

1 fire damage dealt!

1 fire damage received!

Sharp pain burned Jake’s fingertips. He swore in English and shook his hand, trying to cool the self-inflicted burn. Unsurprisingly, it wasn’t as easy as Jeremy made it look. The slightest defect in his casting, and the mana had broken free in an uncontrolled burst. If it had been a more powerful spell…

Jeremy half grunted, half chuckled. “You wanted to be a caster. This is it. No one succeeds first try.”

“Does it always hurt that much?” Jake asked, instantly thinking better of it. “No, don’t answer that. I know what you’re going to say.”

“Most learners, I’d start with bookwork for weeks. This way’s faster.”

His fingertips still crying out in pain, Jake glared at the ranger. “There are books you can learn this from?”

“Yes. Complex spells can go into excruciating detail. Books or scrolls are almost obligatory for them. None of them can teach how it feels.”

“It felt… almost alive.” Jake smiled through the pain. Failure or not, everything he learned put him one step closer to casting magic. “Again?”

“Again.”

***

The sun set behind the trees while Jake drew closer and closer to mastering his first spell, more determined with every failure. As darkness fell, Jeremy summoned an orb of silvery light, and they kept going. When at last the pieces of the puzzle clicked in Jake’s head, the scores of missing hit points were worth it.

Spell learned: Enkir’girk-polak!

Fire magic skill increased 0 → 1!

Jake pumped his fist into the air. The spell literally said in the name that it was a training spell, but that didn’t matter. Simple or not, he’d cast his first magic successfully. A surge of adrenaline carried him to a high all the sweeter for how long it had taken. “Got it!”

“Good work,” Jeremy said, slapping Jake on the back.

“That almost sounded like you meant it.”

A smirk snuck across the old wood elf’s face. “Careful, you almost sound like Cara.”

“And?” Jake said. As frustrating as she could be at times, Cara got more stick in the village than she deserved.

“One Cara’s enough.” Jeremy paused, his lips pressed together. “Not everyone has the right temperament to be a caster.”

“How long did it take her to cast her first spell?”

“She learned it,” he said tersely. “Come, humans need more rest than elves, and we have one last subject to discuss.”

Here it comes. “I told Cara I’ll think about joining.”

“Did she tell you the benefits?”

Benefits? No one had mentioned benefits, but he probably didn’t mean a dental plan. Jake shook his head.

“Oh, Cara.” Jeremy sighed. “Training is one. You put your life on the line here. I’ll train you as I can, but Rangers get priority. There are other trainers, though few that train Lookouts in magic.”

The training was useful, but he’d already earned that, at least from Jeremy. Priority training wasn’t worth getting tied down, especially as the plan was to move on sooner rather than later. “Go on.”

“Status, and a calling. Bluntly, you’re a curiosity to most. They’ll forget your deeds today soon enough. You need duties, and I don’t see you picking herbs.”

He had a point, but again, relevant only as long as Jake stayed. Not that Jeremy knew he planned on leaving. “Anything else?”

Jeremy smiled. “Ranger-specific perks. You’ve already seen Horn of the Rangers. Carry out Ranger business, you get perk points to buff yourself in the Forest.”

Specific Ranger perks sounded interesting, except for the part where they’d only work in the Forest. “Sounds useful.”

The ranger’s lips curled as he stared, no doubt questioning his sincerity. Finally, he said, “New recruits get geared up properly. Master crafted gear made by specialists with centuries of experience.”

Jake drew in a sharp breath. Proper gear might easily save his life and could be taken with him. “And what do I have to do, exactly?”

“As a Lookout? If you see anything dangerous, kill it if you can, report it if you can’t. Prowlers like me have actual obligations, but that’s a long way off.”

It sounded too good to be true. It probably was, but if the world was going to screw him, Jake would rather have top-notch armor. “Where do I sign up?”

“Do you solemnly swear to be vigilant for all threats to the Great Forest and its denizens?”

Jake paused. Did he really want to do this? Sure, the sales pitch was good, but it meant more people to protect. Although, technically, the Great Forest was part of the world he had to save, so was it really more people?

And, as a member of the Rangers, he wouldn’t be alone protecting them. He’d be a small, almost insignificant part of a bigger whole—and a well-equipped part, at that. From what Jeremy had said, leaving them wouldn’t be breaking his obligations, especially not leaving them to save the damned world. “I do.”

“Do you solemnly swear not to attack other Rangers of the Great Forest, steal from them, or otherwise harm them or those we protect?”

“I do.”

Jeremy bowed and said, “Welcome to the Rangers, Jake.”

Faction joined: Rangers of the Great Forest!

Ability learned: Horn of the Rangers!

***

On the way back, Jake quizzed Jeremy relentlessly about magic, how it worked, and how to become as powerful as possible. Every bit of knowledge he could gain might help him understand his options and optimize his development.

“The higher level someone is, the more Magic Resilience, the less damage they take from magic?” Jake asked as he climbed aboard the lift. How well magic scaled would be key to his power curve if he focused on casting. Not that his stat line provided much in the way of choice.

Hopefully, it was similar to quadratic casters, linear martials from certain games on Earth. If so, power would come, it would just be a matter of getting there. Not that anything would ever be that good for Jake, not without a serious side helping of “screw you.”

The risk of death casting high-level spells sounded like a pretty big downside, though just how bad would depend on the death penalty. That had to mean high-level magic was more powerful, right? Why else would anyone be a caster?

Not that Jake had seen many casters. Even Jeremy appeared to have a gish build, combining magic and bow. Perhaps magic was fairly balanced but designed around Heroes able to come back to life. Still, even if it wasn’t overpowered, magic would still be magic, and well worth learning.

Jeremy nodded. “Broadly correct.”

“Intelligence increases my damage, but their HP goes up with their stats too. And then their level decreases damage further?” Jake frowned, wondering how magic could scale properly. He checked out the Fire perk tree. Given the prohibition on its use in the Forest, he didn’t intend to spend the one perk point he had yet, but it would help see how magic fitted together.

Stability (0/5): Increases stability of Fire magic by 20% per level.

Power (0/5): Increases potency of Fire magic by 20% per level.

Quick Cast (0/5): Increases casting speed of Fire magic by 20% per level.

Critical Chance (0/5): Increases critical chance of Fire magic by 20% per level.

Critical Severity (0/5): Increases critical severity of Fire magic by 20% per level.

Cast in Motion (0/5): Decreases the accuracy and movement speed penalty from casting Fire magic while moving by 20% per level.

It was almost the same as the Bows perks. The fancier stuff had to be locked behind higher-level perks. Still, they looked effective. Jake’s frown turned into a smile. “Perks let the damage keep up, right? There are skills to increase Armor, but not Magic Resilience. Wouldn’t more powerful spells mean high-level casters are overpowered?”

Jeremy’s eyebrow raised, and his nod could almost be mistaken for genuine approval. “High-level casters are incredibly powerful and dangerous, both to themselves and others. Casters who reach those heights tend to keep to their studies, using their full power only when essential.”

Studying and using their power only rarely was a far-off luxury. Jake nodded, satisfied that being a caster was the right path. That left the question of his profession skills.

Infuriatingly, especially given their response to Cara’s choices, everyone kept saying to choose what he wanted. Whatever taboo there was about helping someone plan, maybe Jeremy would be willing to break it. “Would you recommend I become a Spellcrafter?”

The ranger looked Jake up and down and took a long, deep breath. “It’s dangerous. A low power magic spell gone wrong won’t kill you. Even the simplest mis-crafted spell might.”

“I know.” Hopefully, the price of dying wouldn’t be too high. “I’ll level it faster than most, though, won’t I?”

With a heavy sigh, Jeremy nodded. “You will. Usually, I’d never recommend any profession, let alone Spellcrafting, but you’ll find danger one way or another. When you do, you need to be prepared.”

Be prepared. A motto to live by. Well, hopefully live by, anyway. “Spellcrafter it is, then. Don’t suppose you know any?”

“No,” Jeremy said, a little quieter than usual. “Spellcrafter life expectancy is rather short for a wood elf.”

Jake gulped. Not exactly an encouraging reply, but not news either. A somber silence took hold until they reached the top.

There was Cara, sat on a stool, hunched over with a knife in hand, carving a piece of wood. Remembering Reltan’s greeting, Jake stepped forward, his hands wide and open, palms outstretched. “Hey, Cara.”

Cara’s head jerked back. A smile started to spread across her face, quickly smashed away by a grimace. Her nostrils flared. She sprung to her feet and stormed away.

“What did I do?” Jake asked, turning to Jeremy with a frown.

“That greeting. Where did you learn it?”

“Reltan.” Jake paused, reliving the memory and wondering if he’d misinterpreted it. “I guess it’s not as friendly a greeting as I thought?”

“It means, ‘my hands are empty, I mean you no harm.’”

Why hadn’t Jake thought of that? In retrospect, it seemed obvious. “No wonder she’s mad.”

“Go. Be at the meeting at sunrise. Bring her too.”

Jake nodded and headed home, heart in his throat.

***

Jake knocked on the door and waited, unsure if knocking was even a thing for wood elves. There wasn’t enough data to say. None of the communal areas had doors, and Cara had always been with him when they’d headed home.

Seconds turned to minutes, and still no answer. Had she heard? Would knocking again only make things worse? People had always been complicated enough, even without literally being a different species.

The perk point in Oratory offered its services. It was tempting, but something changing how his mind worked and altering what he said was still a bridge too far. Besides, it was Cara. They’d get through a little misunderstanding, perk or no.

“Cara? I didn’t mean it that way.”

The door swung open. A grimace lingered defiantly upon Cara’s face, while Nibbles snuggled against her neck. “I know,” she mumbled, her watery eyes refusing to make eye contact. “But…”

She sighed. A silence swelled between them, broken only by an occasional squeak from Nibbles. But what? The sentence could be completed in too many horrifying ways to know exactly which one she meant.

Cara sucked in air and lifted her chin, tentatively meeting Jake’s gaze. “It doesn’t matter. I—I’m being ridiculous.”

After being practically joined at the hip for a week, he’d greeted her as not quite an enemy. How would he have reacted if she’d greeted him with her hands up, saying not to shoot? A lump formed in Jake’s throat. No, she wasn’t being ridiculous. “I get it.”

Cara tilted her head and pressed her lips together. For a moment, it even looked like she might believe him. “You can’t.”

Did he get it? Or did he have it all wrong? Jake bit his lip and glanced around the chaos of her room. So many times, she’d forgotten or misplaced things, and that wasn’t even the worst of it. “I know what it’s like to have to work twice as hard to get the same. To never really fit in because, no matter how hard you try, you’re not like them.”

Her eyes dropped once more. She fiddled with the wood carving in her fingers for a while before speaking again. “We’re not the same, Jake. You’re smart. You pick things up super fast, and you’re braver than I’ll ever be. You threw yourself at that gorilla for a village that made you sleep surrounded by an alarm.”

Jake bit his lip. It wasn’t true, not really. Well, he was smart, that part was correct, but it’s easy to be brave when you can’t die. “Cara…” His heart thundered, the logical part of his brain screaming for him to stop. “There’s something you should know.”

She clenched the wood carving tight, clinging to silence as Jake summoned the courage to do what he should have done from the beginning.

“Cara… I’m a Hero.”