They followed the man with the torch up the main street. Several other NPCs joined, carrying torches, swords, and bows. Carey’s compass told him they were headed northward.

He vaguely remembered being screamed at a few minutes earlier, but with all the commotion and tension in the air, he failed to register it as anything more than an uncomfortable spat. Beatrice had issues, that much was clear.

For now, it was time to level up some skills, so he wouldn’t be a complete numbskull in the upcoming fight.

Running at full speed, Carey was about to pull up his menus when Ara appeared in the corner of his vision, a hovering three-dimensional cartoon standing on a floating cloud.

“Would you like any help or advice with leveling up, Master DrollTroll?”

“No! Go away!”

Her face crumpled for a moment before she vanished. Carey clucked his tongue in frustration, pulling up his character sheet.

“Selecting my skills now,” he announced.

Will glanced at Carey’s menu. “I agree. Bulk up.”

Beatrice flew alongside them, staying silent. He could tell she had a ton on her mind.

“Don’t forget,” Will added. “This is a role-playing game. Pick the class you can see yourself being—”

“Rogue,” Carey interrupted. “Feral Rogue. Most def.”

“Whatever you say.”

At this pace, the Stamina drain wouldn’t become an issue for at least another five minutes. Carey opened his menus. He selected his preferred race and class, confident in his decision. Much to his delight, Luminether Online had no shortage of awesome thief and assassin skills.

The only problem was, the amount of skill points he had to distribute was based on his Wisdom attribute, which was only at 10 points, currently 10 below the “base” of 20, thanks to the Feral’s natural penalty in that area. His Agility and his Perception were 45 and 35, respectively, which seemed high, but without more Wisdom, he was stuck with only a measly 7 points to distribute among the actual skills.

That had to change.

He had 1 attribute point per level to distribute as he saw fit. Thanks to his racial bonuses, adding it to Agility and Perception would have granted him a 2x modifier, making the point work twice as hard, but those attributes were high enough for now.

Instead, he used it to increase his Wisdom to 11. Now, he had 9 points (rounded up from 8.5) to distribute among his skills, which would add up over the long term. Strategy was key to this game.

Now that he had the points, he had to spend them. The most important skill for the time being was one-handed weapons, so he could use his dagger more skillfully. Plus, if he put 9 points into one-handed weapons, which began at zero, the final amount would actually be 13.5—which the game rounded up to 14—since Ferals received a 50 percent bonus to that skill.

Being a Feral kicked ass!

As soon as he confirmed the 14-point addition, a weird sensation gripped him for the span of two seconds—a feeling of elation sort of like the one he’d experienced drinking the potion delivered earlier by the levathon. This time, it felt as if a spurt of heroin had been injected directly into the core of his brain.

“Oh my God,” he breathed.

“Congrats,” Will said. “You popped your cherry.”

Grinning like a madman, Carey grabbed the dagger off his belt and began slashing it through the air. He wasn’t an expert just yet—he suddenly knew enough about wielding the weapon to know that much—but his confidence, knowledge, and natural grace had increased to the point where he felt he could take down a grizzly bear, or at least a fox or something comparable—with nothing more than his pathetic little copper blade.

“Wait ’til you see what happens when you confirm the entire level.”

“What do you mean?” Carey asked.

They were all still running, only now the man with the torch was leading a group of about twenty villagers. A few Acolyte NPCs had joined Beatrice in flight above the group, which reminded Carey he’d have to find an animal shell soon, ideally one that would let him fly!

“What I mean is,” Will said, “you still don’t feel like a Feral. That happens when you confirm.”

The “CONFIRM LEVEL UP” button blinked beneath his animated portrait, just waiting for him to finally join the ranks.

He mentally pressed it.

Sprinting now, his perception of the world changed as the passage of time seemed cut in half and everything became a blur.

As Carey flew through the air on feet that barely touched the ground, outrunning Will and Beatrice and all the other villager NPCs, he realized he’d never tasted true freedom. It was as if Carey had been dwelling in a cocoon all his life, and suddenly he’d been released, free to move and breathe like a creature of the wild and not some dormant grub.

His last glimpse of his character sheet had been his 3-D portrait changing from that of a regular human to a slightly crouched, fanged, orange-eyed Feral with a furry brown tail.

Epic!

Gripping the tail as he ran, he sensed its thickness and warmth, became aware of its length. He’d have to stop stroking the appendage or it would look weird.

“Woo hoo!”

He was no longer howling but laughing, laughing like a madman.

“Keep it together,” Beatrice shouted, sounding distant.

Making sure not to lose sight of the group, Carey climbed the nearest building, shot several feet toward the starry night sky, flipped, and landed on the shingles of the next building.

As he ran, his gums tingled.

Fangs.

With the slightest mental nudge, he was able to unsheathe a pair of fangs that slid out of his gums and over his canine teeth, each about a centimeter long and sharp enough to prick his tongue as he laughed wickedly.

“I’m the King of the Wor-r-r-r-r-rld,” he screamed, throwing up his arms at the very edge of the roof like Leonardo DiCaprio on the bow of the ship in Titanic.

Then he was falling—though it felt more exhilarating than frightening.

He landed, cat-like, on his feet. Landed hard.

-8 HP

“What!”

His ankles quivered as a shock ran through his legs. Game pain. It didn’t last, but it still sucked. Made him feel vulnerable, which erased the godlike feeling from before.

Will ran up to him. “Dude. That was a three-story building. You have to be careful.”

Carey glanced back at the building in question. Hadn’t seemed that tall a moment ago.

“Perception must be messing with me,” Carey said, blinking a few times.

And yet, it was a godsend. He could pick out the tiniest details now—the fine texture of Will’s face, the wrinkles in his clothes, the ridged crystal on his lightly glowing staff.

“Do I have...night vision?”

Will nodded. “Pro’ly. Ferals can see great in low light. Everyone else gets a -2 Perception penalty in low-lit areas or if they’re out at night. But not you guys.”

“Sucks to be them,” Carey said, slapping Will’s shoulder, which felt disturbingly realistic, like this was some kind of fancy cosplay and they were really—physically—here.

“Let’s go,” Will said, waving Carey along with his staff. “Just stay back, all right? You’re not ready for this one.”

“We’ll see about that!” Carey followed along, trying not to outrun Will, though he felt like a grown man in a race against a two-year-old.

The fight took place beyond the northern edge of town, in a clearing where the only manmade structure was a tall, crumbling stone tower ripped straight out of an ancient-history book.

A roar filled the black sky.

The ground vibrated so subtly Carey was certain no normal human would have noticed it. But in Feral form, he could see, smell, and hear like he never would have thought possible in real life, let alone as renditions in a video game.

A dark form slithered across the sky, like an eel across nighttime waters.

“Bea,” Will said, as they rejoined Beatrice and the villagers. “Have a boost.”

He tossed her a dark-blue potion of some sort.

“Are you sure?” she asked. “Isn’t it your last one?”

“I have two more.”

“Hoarder,” she said, smiling.

“What about me?” Carey whined.

Another roar ripped across the sky. The villagers spread out over the clearing, aiming bows and holding up swords, waiting in tense anticipation.

“Here.” Will tossed Carey a potion. Carey studied the liquid through the glass. It looked like blueberry Kool-Aid but darker, as if mixed with a teaspoon of black ink.

“I ordered these specially made at an alchemist’s shop in Tyrathon,” Will said. “They’re expensive.”

“Thanks, but...what is it?”

Carey could have checked the name and stats himself. He did that now. The information popped up, just as Will was explaining.

“It’s a Defense Against Intoxication potion. It removes all negative effects of things like alcohol, poison, and any drug. Plus,” he added, clearly happy to share this next part, “it makes you jump five times higher with no fall damage. A little extra oomph added by yours truly.”

“Sweetness,” Carey said. “Worth five silver, not bad. Should I drink it now?”

“I’d wait for the Cebron to attack first. It only lasts five minutes.”

“You ever fought one of these things before?”

“Eh, once or twice.” This time, Will was the one to slap Carey’s shoulder. “Good luck. Don’t try to be a hero.”

He ran toward the front line, joining a row of mages with spells burning against their palms. The Cebron was now perched on the tip of the destroyed tower, staring down at the villagers as if deciding which one to eat first.

Dozens of arrows flew up at the creature, about half hitting their target as the Cebron danced away. Carey could see each shaft despite the nighttime darkness. He felt like an owl studying a landscape in search of prey, eyes like lasers scanning the terrain, instantly processing every little detail.

The Cebron leaped off the tower and swept down, as fast as a missile.

From below, mages and Sorcerers blasted spells. A few orange fireballs and bright-blue ice spells were the first to hit their target, though the Cebron mostly shook these off, its HP bar barely affected.

Landing with an earth-shaking thump, the Cebron used its jaws to pluck a magic-slinging villager off the ground and fling him through the air. The man let loose a natural-sounding—disturbingly real—scream as he smacked into a building and dropped to the street.

How did magic fare against the monster? Carey eyed the Cebron’s activity log. 20 fire damage one moment, 35 freezing damage the next, yet its Health bar was still around 90 percent full. Elemental spells clearly weren’t doing much.

The battle was in full swing now. Carey edged forward, unsure if he really wanted to partake in what could potentially be a life-ending battle.

“If you’d like any assistance...” came a woman’s voice, which Carey was sure only he could hear.

“Ara, for chrissakes!”

“...just let me know, okay? I’ll go away now.”

“No, wait.”

Beaming happily, Ara appeared in the lower right quadrant of his vision. She seemed real enough to grab with one hand.

“Ara, what are the Cebron’s weaknesses?”

“That I don’t know. You’d have to use an item or cast a spell to observe—”

“Never mind. What can you tell me that might help?”

“I can tell you that any attacks on your part will have to be from higher up. Cebrons rarely drop to the ground during battle. They like to remain up high. This can be tough for Sargonauts and Ferals, who specialize in melee fighting...unless you use a bow.”

“I don’t have one,” Carey said. “Or the archery skill, for that matter.”

“But you have that Jump potion.” Ara wagged her brows.

“Good thinking,” Carey said, uncorking the flask.

He drank the Defense against Intoxication potion and watched as foggy ribbons of sparkling misty light swirled around his body. Looking down, he identified the source of the weird tingling in his knees. Rigid lines of blue light—like some weird magical brace—had grafted themselves to his legs.

As a Feral, Carey could already jump twice as high as a regular human (and hopefully, that would increase as he bulked up his Agility attribute). But now, when he jumped, it seemed his head might slam against the sky. The sensation of landing felt padded, as if he were wearing shoes made of a dozen stacked pillows.

He jumped again, high enough to see the entire crowd from above.

“Hell yeah!”

A few villagers turned their heads to look up at him, grimacing. When they saw it was only Carey being an idiot, they turned their attention back to the Cebron.

Will flashed him a thumbs-up and grinned before bouncing away like a grasshopper, his legs also magically enhanced. He didn’t seem scared at all, which was a good sign. He had fought one or two of these already, which probably meant this wouldn’t be too difficult.

And where was Beatrice?

Jumping again, inspecting the crowd, he saw that she had flown toward the back of the group to heal the man who had been flung.

Okay, time to fight.

Carey readied his dagger, feeling ridiculous. What the hell would a copper blade do to a badass dragon beast pulled straight from the myth books?

The Cebron swooped toward him, exposing dripping jaws full of razor-sharp teeth.

Carey jumped up several feet as the beast, resembling a massive black airplane, swept over him. Releasing a warrior’s cry, he sliced the dagger over his head, connecting with the underbelly and a weird, squirming thing attached there...

His vision flashed green as one of the stinging, tubular appendages stabbed him in the abdomen. The pain was withering, like having a red-hot skewer play pool with his internal organs. He’d never do that again, no sir!

Carey fell to the ground, curled into a ball, and moaned. The creature had six-foot-long, black (he shivered to think of it) penis-like appendages with spikes at the ends that injected poison into their victims.

“What… the...actual...fu…”

With his eyes squeezed shut, he found he could still read his activity log.

DrollTroll slashes at Adult Cebron Female for -7 damage (-6 HP resisted)

DrollTroll takes -39 stabbing damage and is poisoned

DrollTroll takes -16 poison damage (-36 HP resisted)

DrollTroll takes -19 stamina damage (-25 SP resisted)

That was a terrible idea, Carey thought. Why isn’t the pain going away?

His vision flashed green again. Will’s potion had helped him resist part of the total poison damage, but it should have done more.

Worth five silver, my ass.

DrollTroll takes -12 poison damage (-23 HP resisted)

DrollTroll takes -17 stamina damage (-22 SP resisted)

“Carey!”

A girl’s voice.

Rolling over, he opened his eyes and saw what might have been the most beautiful thing he’d ever witnessed.

It was an angel, swooping down from above, ready to carry him to a heavenly place where there was no pain…

“Beatrice.”

Her youthful face, sparkling tunic, and the pure white of her outstretched wings… It made Carey feel like he had woken up inside a dream—a dream within a dream, he supposed.

DrollTroll takes -11 poison damage (-21 HP resisted)

DrollTroll takes -13 stamina damage (-18 SP resisted)

His vision pulsed green. A quarter of his Health bar was left.

“I’ve got you,” Beatrice said, suddenly kneeling beside him.

She raised her hands and they exploded in misty blue light. She took her time, weaving the spell, eyes closed.

DrollTroll takes -10 poison damage (-18 HP resisted)

DrollTroll takes -11 stamina damage (-15 SP resisted)

I’m a dead man…

The thought was the last to flash through Carey’s mind before he passed out.