Hero, Kell, and poor Bright-Solemn find themselves in the center of the royal keep, sharing the space filled to the brim with adventurers. Everyone’s joking around and theorizing about the upcoming event.

“How the hell’d you guys get that gear so early?” A practically-naked barbarian-character asks, her towering physique playing to arching over to reveal her womanhood to Hero.

Now a calmer lad than most with his mass stores of CHA, somehow it’s a female that catches him off guard. “Wh-I…,”

Hero clears his throat as Kell nods over. “ASL? No English.” he asks her simply.

She scoffs. “Whatever,” she says, suddenly entirely disgusted by them as she waves off elsewhere.

“What did you say?” Hero asks.

Kell chuckles. “Good for getting people to leave you alone.” The two look over the crowd.

“Some weird types in this city.”

“Well…” Kell reconsider a moment, and then shrugs. “Very, very few of them are actual residents.”

Hero squints an eye. “Like, how many?”

“About one percent of them are locals.”

Hero draws back. “…Really now?”

“Really,” Kell affirms. “Most are actually entering this dimension through something called a ‘server’.”

Hero looks aside, taking in the term as if it were the name of an ancient artifact. “This is a… divine instrument?”

Kell hums. “Yes, I suppose it is, at least in the way you might interpret it. These ‘players’, people around us, come here for fun and leisure.”

A squad of royal guardsmen fan out from the royal balcony of the foyer as Hero strokes his chin in thought. “So they’re like… immortal?”

“In that they won’t die if you kill them here, yes. Unlike you, they’ll simply bound back to their own realm, but for you, it’d be over.”

Hero looks to his side. His miraculous gift, The Dragon Scythe, is resting against his hip and along his back- even now he feels its vibrations, its attempts at communication with its present user. “So… they don’t care if they die?”

“Most would. It hurts to die in this world for them, just as if they were really living in it, however they’re not afraid of death, simply the pain they would experience from the dying process.”

“Heh, fuckin’ nerds,” a nasally archer elf says as he passes by.

Kell and Hero only glance the archer’s way a second before returning to their conversation. “They think we’re players too.”

Hero crosses his arms. “Wow, mistaken for a spirit.”

“Yes, so be careful. They won’t understand that our lives are on the line… looks like it’s starting.” Kell nods forward, his hood concealing most of his four-lensed plate mask.

The crier from before marches out with an air of pompous importance. “Presenting, his royal majesty,” he pauses for dramatic effect, when at once a snide rouge tosses an apple in his face, winning a laugh from the hundreds of players lucky enough to get inside before the great doors closed. Of course, this counts as a duel challenge and automatic pvp flag, so the young rouge is instantly brought to the floor with dozens of attacks from other players, all curious what it’s like to kill a player. The crier, seemingly unaffected amidst the death screams of the unlucky asshole, clears his throat to continue. “Hienrokkus Alphilion Exemus the Fourth, King of our land!”

A suite of trumpets sound to proclaim the arrival of the king. Amidst the jokes and off-the-cuff insults flung around by the masses of players, there’s a short, solemn moment in which the crowd is silent.

The king has been crying, and the pain on his face looks far too real for it to have been designed for any minor quest chain. Truly, the very soul of King Hienrokkus is laid bare before this jeering mass, not one among the players for once wondering if this person could in fact be real.

“Adventurers, explorers…” the king, his sharp beard gray with age, takes a deep breath mid sentence. “Heroes of the realm.”

“What a fag,” one of the players speaks out for a quick laugh from the people around him.

The king’s tired, sunken eyes surveys the crowd with a dead gaze. “My daughter, and the light of my life, Celine, has been kidnapped. My greatest… brightest, and bravest would not dare go on a quest as perilous as this… it hurts me beyond words to turn to the masses for aid. She has been taken by that damnable beast of the infinite hells, the Mountainous Exeranoth; he who feels no mercy for our kind and wishes our crops burnt, our walls crumbled, and our people destroyed forever… It is in this interest-”

“Just give us the fucking quest!” Another loud player screams over the king’s speech.

The king continues without pause. “-that I’m offering a grand reward to the figure that brings her back. My daughter’s hand in marriage, the crown of succession, and to his assistants, a lifetime in the royal court as honored, treasured heroes.”

“What, you’re gonna force us to marry a girl?” a feminine voice asks.

“Sexist bitch,” says another, garnering another round of laughs.

The king stares on dully at the crowd; the immense disgust in his eyes is obvious, but it’s clear that he needs their help.

“In that, I shall send you on your way. Go out in groups, companies, if it makes it safer, and rescue my daughter. For this to be possible, the legendary weapon of old must be recovered.”

Kell jolts from his spot against one of the keep’s pillars. “This isn’t good.” He grasps Hero and starts tugging him out to the doors. “Come along.”

“What is it?” Hero asks, gracefully stepping along without so much as a stumble.

The king takes a deep breath just as Kell reaches for the door to a servant’s passage. “The Dragon Scythe - the only weapon capable of killing the devilish abomination.”

As most players start listening more closely to the quest details, a few sharp-eyed players snap their heads to look right at the only player they’ve seen carrying a scythe: Hero. At once, he’s inspect by nearly a dozen players, who check his weapon tab first thing.

Just as Kell closes the door behind them, the room uproars as they realize that, not only does someone have the scythe, but they just left the room.