His lungs burned through the exhaustion of pulling himself over the ledge to flat ground. The sweet release of his collapse on the cool stones damn near brought tears to his eyes.

He was bruised, beaten, bloodied and sore. He’d been pummeled, smashed, impaled, and had even thrown up on himself.

The darkened sky moved slowly overhead like a swirling vortex blocking the sun.

“Ah, sweet memories,” Mercutio laughed.

“Memories?” Arron asked, unmoving.

“Why, of course, my noble hammer. Memories of the first dungeon I ran and my own exhaustion. Tis a part of everyone’s first dungeon. Rumor has that Torbin’s first saw him face down, ass up and snoring after the boss fight.”

“Best nap of me life,” the dwarf confirmed. “Your Stats are still growing, lad. As they increase, so will your endurance. We’ve all run plenty of dungeons before, built up our endurance already. Honestly, I was surprised you were still good to go after the battle with the Brachiosaurus, let alone the Triceratops with how much blood you lost.”

Arron winced, those memories certainly weren’t sweet.

The Brachiosaurus fight had been awful, horrible, terrifying. It was the sort of thing that would haunt him in his dreams. Flashes of the ground forty feet below while he clung desperately to its neck, went through his mind. He’d known it was going to suck before it even started. Torbin had positioned everyone on a huge branch, poised to jump on the back of the beast as it meandered below them.

“Now, keep in mind, once we jump on, it’ll run. We all have to jump together, ok?” the dwarf had asked.

Arron certainly understood. But he by no means was ok.

He very nearly didn’t make the jump. While the rest of his group laughed and dropped onto the beast, he, being a lover of heights, instinctively grabbed the tree.

“Arron! Let go!” Merc had yelled as the group fell.

Cramming his eyes closed, Arron forced his fingers apart, his stomach in his throat the moment gravity took hold.

As soon as his party hit the long-necked dinosaur, it reared on its hind feet, screaming in terror and took off through the trees.

Arron, mere seconds behind the party, almost missed his ride.

He reached desperately for anywhere his hands could find purchase, and barely managed to grab hold of the beast’s long tail. He was thrashed left and right on the Brachiosaurus’ whipping tail, clinging to the beast with all his strength. Through a truly herculean effort, he had managed to climb up to meet his party on the charging beasts back.

A few heckles later, and his next nightmare started. Being the new guy, Arron was tasked with climbing the thing’s neck… while it was running… and hammer its weak spot on the back of its head.

He fought down bile recalling that moment. So many miserable feet off the ground, on a swaying head screaming rage at the insect using it for passage.

Meanwhile, the rest of his group had stayed below. Something about too many cooks in a kitchen. When he looked down, fear coursing through his veins, he found they’d tied themselves to the beasts back and were treating it like some demented carnival ride. The whole party was giggling, having a generally fantastic time. Torbin’s beard was split in half at his chin and flopping along each side of his head, reminding Arron of a dog with its head out the window. Mercutio was timing jumps from the beast’s back to take advantage of its momentum, catapulting himself fifteen feet into the air and twisting in somersaults, flips, and tricks.

Arron’s fingers ached holding onto the dinosaur and felt absolutely no remorse when he delivered the fatal blow. The tall dino tumbled end over end from its momentum, throwing its riders clear and terrifying Arron yet again.

The battle had become a bit more familiar after that, jumping over swinging tails and battering heads away.

The group polished their damage output during that fight. Torbin called out people’s names while watching his interface, instructing minor adjustments to increase the amount of damage each of them contributed.

“Arron, your damage output is great, but pause after every sixth swing,” the dwarf had said, eyes roaming back and forth across some unseen chart. “Iris, you take the momentum of the seventh swing. Drop an armor-breaking acid. That should cause the next several hits from Arron to up their potential and give your acid ball enough time to complete its cooldown.”

The tip worked. Immediately Arron could feel Mule’s satisfaction as it sank farther into the beast with each hit. Feeling their talents work together calmed any remaining anxiety Arron had about his earlier outburst. The fight helped him see his place in the group, and he was all smiles as he gained yet another Level before they collected their loot.

The battle with the Triceratops removed that smile.

Arron learned what it was like to have five feet of Triceratops horn through your side in that fight.

The tank-like creature’s tactics were simple. It used its massive bone hood as protection against the party, spinning its body to hide behind the shield while it charged. More than once, they barely avoided its crushing feet and imposing horns. Unfortunately, it was nimble enough to turn after charging, staying protected.

Being “durable,” Arron was nominated as bait to draw the creature away and expose the weak spots behind the hood. However, Arron was not dexterous.

Instead of gracefully avoiding the Triceratops’ attacks, he bounced off trees, been launched through the air, even had the aforementioned dino horn impaled through his side, skewering him and taking him for a ride on a shaking, massive bony head.

Even through the Pain Tolerance, that one stung.

Luckily, Torbin laid on the healing darts pretty thick, keeping him alive. It had taken five minutes for the team to put the beast down with Arron riding the bull the whole time.

And then they climbed, and climbed, and climbed to get to these ruins.

His muscles were jello. His breathing was fast and gasping, and stars floated in his vision.

He needed to rest.

But rest wasn’t an option. They had a dungeon to complete.

With a groan, Arron stood up, slapped himself and got ready to continue.

“Ok, everyone, rest up. We’ll do the next part tomorrow,” Torbin said, pulling a tent from his Inventory.

Arron stared at him dumbfounded. He didn’t even have it in him to question his friend. He just collapsed back to the ground.

Torbin looked over with a smile as he worked on his tent. “This spot’s safe. It’s the staging area for the next zone, so monsters don’t spawn or wander here. Makes for a good place to sleep and refresh our endurance. You have to be suffering from exhaustion by now.”

“Our wha—” Arron didn’t even finish before he’d Willed to see his exhaustion. As he was used to by now, he was presented with something he’d never seen before—a series of icons.

The far-left icon depicted a half-lidded eye, bloodshot and crazed. It was aggressively flashing red, and when he focused on it, he got a notification.

You are Exhausted

You have reached the limit of your endurance. You will move and react 80% slower, take 50% additional damage, and have a 33% chance of forgetting what you are doing.

Sleep…

Oh.

Arron turned to the group, ready to ask about the other icons, but found them sitting around a campfire chatting.

“Seriously, I can’t wait to get out east. You heard about the new boss mob, right?” Iris said excitedly.

“The one who took Hero’s Haven?” Sonya asked, once again with her nose in her interface.

“That’s the one. I heard Cobalt’s running with her! Do you know what kind of gear that boss drops?”

“I, for one, would love the lore books…” Mercutio said with a smile.

They kept talking, but Arron realized after a moment he wasn’t listening anymore. He was just sort of… staring at them without thinking.

Yea. Sleep.

He didn’t remember acting on the thought.

***

The night was peaceful as Arron’s eyes drifted open. The soft crackling of the fire was a comfort that mingled with the mighty snores of his dwarven companion. He smiled as he looked at the darkened sky, enjoying the peace of the moment.

There were few instances where he was comfortable resting, at least until he found Bella. The clock on her coma was an ever-present pressure in his mind, and he needed, at his core, to be working toward her.

He reminded himself that in this moment, he was. His party was helping him reach the Levels he needed to rescue his wife and the party needed rest.

This moment was peace he could afford.

He brought back his notifications, interested in the mysterious icons.

Exhaustion – You recently reached the limit of your endurance. You have not completed your recovery and will move and react 40% slower, take 25% additional damage, and have a 15% chance of forgetting what you are doing.

Recent Dead – You have died within the last day. Be more careful next time.

Party Insight – You are adventuring with a party! 50% additional experience from kills, quest completion, and boss battles.

Deep Wound – You were severely injured. Your wounds will continue to heal. You will not reach full Health until this condition has faded or you are cured of your injuries. Time left: 3 hrs 13 min.

Intelligent Companion – You travel with a sentient item.

“Weird… Always learning something new in this game.”

With a flick of intention, he settled the icons in the periphery of his vision and set them to stay. This was good information if he remembered to look at it.

He stared at the lightning strikes that accented the vortex overhead, considering that final condition. It hadn’t escaped his notice that things kept telling him that Mule was intelligent and sentient. He didn’t doubt the information, on more than one occasion having appreciated the bloodthirsty drive the hammer shared. He felt a strange kinship with the hammer, if you could feel a kinship with a lump of metal.

What if Mule finally grew powerful enough to speak and Arron thought it was a dick. What would happen then? Would he get rid of the—

A charley horse stronger than anything he’d ever felt in his life exploded in his calf. Pain Tolerance, Constitution, none of it mattered as he grit his teeth and reached for the spasming muscle.

And as if it’d never happened… it stopped.

Arron sat up in a fit, furiously rubbing his calf and breathing deep. The immense level of smugness coming from his hammer answered his question almost as quickly as it had arisen.

“You are a dick,” Arron told the object and swore he could feel the thing give him the finger.

Grumbling, he lay down and closed his eyes.

I’m ok. Mule is a dick, but I’m ok.

The pain in his calf scared him. More than he liked to admit. For a moment, he feared something was happening to his real body. Images of legless people, their limbs amputated from bed rot flashed through his mind. Memories from his days in the hospital after the crash.

The hospital he was still in.

And for the first time in several days… he remembered. He remembered the state of his legs and the life he had waiting for him outside.

He’d never forgotten Bella, could never forget her. But somehow, he managed to forget his disability. A single tear slid from his eye as the weight of the future descended on him, making it difficult to breathe and setting his teeth on edge.

The pain welled up inside him, desperation to focus on something else, anything else, spinning away at his fraying nerves.

The team’s tactics today.

Pounding steel in Smith’s forge.

Being ripped in half by that zombie.

His mind returned to the same image.

The wheelchair. The plain, blue and steel hospital wheelchair looming above him while he lay helpless on the bathroom floor. Worthless, crying in a puddle of his own piss. Not even strong enough to pull himself to the toilet. He’d laid there for seconds that felt like hours. Helpless. Impotent. Useless. Rescued by someone half his size and a quarter his strength.

But with two working legs.

The tears were flowing freely now and he put his fist in his mouth, biting hard as he fought to hold in the sobs. His friends would not see this. Absolutely not. He did not need rescue. He wasn’t helpless here.

A wave of reassurance came from Mule. The concern evident in his companion’s touch. Arron registered the emotion from the hammer, felt the worry behind the alien attempt at comfort. Except the hammer could do nothing. It was a blunt instrument meant for a blunt purpose. It could not change reality.

He was a cripple.

And his Bella would leave him.

The thought sent ice through his veins and his body literally shook from the fear and despair. He bit harder onto his fist, drawing blood. Fighting down the sobs. Fighting down his shame.

A hand touched his shoulder. Arron sat up and whipped around, punching the figure beside him square in the face.

Mercutio didn’t flinch. He just looked at Arron, his face somber and serious.

And he moved in, pulling Arron to his chest.

Arron tensed briefly, unsure, before collapsing against Mercutio, sobbing.

Mercutio held Arron long past when his cries faded into sleep.