“GG,” he said, officially concluding the game with the perfunctory rite of acknowledgment. It meant good game, even if it wasn’t one. But you said it, just like if you were passing by someone on the street, you would nod your head and say hello. It was just what you did.

“Dude, our team fucking sucked. I don’t know how we won that,” said Yariene, his longtime guild-mate. They weren’t playing their main game, just screwing around playing some MOBAs for fun.

“Prolly ‘cause I’m cracked at Fortnite my guy.”

“Cringe,” came the automatic response. It was only to be expected. It was an ironically used zoomer meme. The very best kind. “You did kinda pop off though, Mell. Maybe you’re not so dogshit after all.”

“I literally carry us all the time. Maybe if you didn’t suck so much dick I wouldn’t have to pop off so hard, but it’s OK. I know you can’t help being terrible,” said Mell.

“Whatever. You said you were gonna go to the gas station before raid, right? I’m gonna go take a shit then, I got swamp-ass, man.”

“Thanks,” said Mell, scrunching his nose. He could smell the brown fog of fresh fecal matter through the screen, “I didn’t ask for that information, but you gave it anyway.”

“NP, bro!” said Yariene, his voice distant as he no doubt ran away from his microphone towards the bathroom. Mell heard the door slam right as Yariene’s Discord avatar lit up green briefly, then sighed, hand flicking slightly as he clicked on the “Show Stats” button in the post-game lobby. A pretty high KDA, 15.7, but he didn’t really feel any satisfaction. He was good at the game, far better than the casual players he had just thoroughly trounced, and it was the expected result for him. He rarely took satisfaction in his performances, but doing poorly relative to his usual standards did irritate him. It was all about consistency, after all. How could he feel good beating shitters? They were bad, he wasn’t. It was an objective measurement. Breaking that law was an illogical outcome and only meant that he was getting sloppy. He thought briefly of checking to see if there were any choice clips he could make of his play, as he was streaming, though the view count was low. Well, low was a way of putting it nicely—he had only a single viewer, and that was just his other monitor having his own stream open so he could monitor the chat and make sure there were no frame drops.

He sighed and decided against it. It wasn’t worth the effort, since it was only an ARAM, a casual mode with no ranked ladder involved. Ultimately, the games were meaningless besides their immediate distribution of dopamine, and no one would truly be impressed by a play in such a casual setting. He realized he had been stalling, as he was wont to do, and he rose from his chair, it skittering away across the carpet. He threw on a sweater and scoured his room for his keys, then realized he didn’t know where his wallet was.

He cursed under his breath as he bent and stretched around his bed, finally finding it behind a few layers of loose chip bags, his stomach cramping as he did so. Sniffing his nose, he realized he did not smell the best, so he grabbed some cologne and gave himself a quick shower, spraying it four times across his body for good measure. He had already lost five minutes from the search-and-rescue effort and only had another twenty before raid invites would be sent out. Doing the math in his head quickly, he deduced that as long as he left in the next five minutes or so, he would be fine. Perhaps a little late, but he was the guild’s best DPS. They would wait for him.

He grabbed his phone, though as he left his room and walked downstairs, he realized it was dead. That was unfortunate, but nothing more than a small annoyance. He could just hook it up to the USB in his car on the way to the gas station and it would probably be charged enough to play a few songs on the way back. Hopping off the final step, he hummed a random jingle to himself as he slipped on his shoes, feeling somewhat chipper. His pre-raid ritual was one of the few times he felt excited, the drive being a way to clear his head and mentally prepare to perform. He looked forward to the sweet bitterness of candy and soda, or the tangy crunch of the chips he was sure to buy. There was truly nothing better. He was just about to open the door as the lights downstairs fully switched on, and he turned, his mother standing there, arms folded, her face displeased.

“Where are you going, Zachary?” she said tiredly. “Off to spend my money again on chips?” He didn’t answer immediately, his blood running cold a little at the sudden confrontation. He let the silence continue, and she said took that moment to go on the offensive, claws bared, “I just don’t understand how you, a grown man at twenty-three, can continue to do this,” she said, gesturing back upstairs, her voice growing heated, “How you can keep playing that-that game? Don’t you see it’s ruining your life, Zach?”

It’s not the game. It’s me. He wanted to say. Wanted to, but didn’t.

“Sorry, mom,” he mumbled, face flushed and embarrassed as he turned his eyes to the ground, hands at his side awkwardly. He could feel her still staring at him, though he didn’t understand why. What did she want him to do? He had been looking for jobs...they just weren’t calling back. He was going to sign back up for classes in the Fall. He was. He just didn’t have the discipline to do it right now. He was going to get his life together. She would see. Just a few more months of hardcore gaming, and he would get it all together. That’s all he needed.

She sighed heavily and said, “I just don’t know what to do anymore. I give you everything. I work my ass off and you just have no initiative.. Whatever. I have work in the morning. Don’t slam the door on your way back in,” she said, and he shuffled off, opening the door without a response, and stepped through, the light of the moon blinding him for an instant, causing him to squint.

And when he opened his eyes, it was the sun beaming down at him, not the moon.

It did not register at first, despite the sudden shift to dry heat from the muggy humidity he had been braced for. He blinked a few times, confused, but nothing changed. He was in an open clearing in a wood somewhere. It was almost ripped straight out of a generic High Fantasy RPG, like a low-level starting zone. Non-descript trees that he did not know the names of stood far enough apart for easy walking, and the grass around was low enough to reveal all that would dare hide. His first thought was that he had to be dreaming. Perhaps his medication had induced some sort of lucid episode while asleep. That would make sense. Sound exploded in his ear, and he realized then that his senses had not even fully acclimated to this new environment until now. But the sounds were different than he expected. Far different. Alien, even.

A flock of birds soared overhead, a familiar sight, until they dove low over the tree-line, their heads large and reptilian. It was closer to a pterodactyl than a swallow or a starling. His skin crawled as if something was watching, and he brought his gaze back down to the ground. Something rustled in the forest ahead, and he began to back away slowly, his legs wooden and stiff. He was terribly out of shape, but if he had to run, he would give it all he was worth. A man stepped into the clearing, eyes serious and unblinking. Zach scanned him within an instant, almost unable to believe what he was seeing if it wasn’t right there. He had to be dreaming.

But what if he wasn’t?

“You need to come with me. Now. No questions, Etelendi.” His long ears twitched, and he flicked his eyes toward the sky. Zach swore he saw a flash of fear in the gray unknown of the stranger’s pupils. It didn’t seem like much of a choice. The man had a bow and short-sword and was quite well-built. If he intended to kill him, where they were already qualified as a secondary location. Standing here in the elements alone was likely the worse option.

Zach nodded and jogged towards the man, who turned the instant he gave his confirmation, darting off into the trees. He tried his best to keep up with the man’s pace, which he felt was far slower than what he was probably capable of, but soon enough he was huffing and falling behind. His legs burned and it felt as if he simply could not draw in breath fast enough to supply his body with the oxygen necessary to keep going, sweat beginning to pour from his forehead. The shoes he was wearing weren’t helping much either, the soles of his feet stabbing at him, the once comfortable sweater now suffocating him in the heat. The stranger looked to check on him, cursing, most likely, but the language was foreign to his ears. He started to turn towards Zach, but something lashed out from the shadows, the man reaching for his weapon before it overtook him, stealing him away from sight without so much as a whisper. The forest ran silent, the denizens fearful and observant, hiding from whatever creature now stalked the grounds.

He turned every which way; the shadows seeming to lengthen and dance. Behind every tree could be another monster like that which had taken the man. But he couldn’t do anything standing here. He tried to think of what he could do. The thing was big, and fast, and would destroy him in a test of strength or speed. Fighting conventionally was out of the question, and besides that, he was exhausted from the short exercise. He stood no chance, but he would not go down without fighting. That much he knew. He bared his teeth, his heart pounding freely as if it knew that it would never have the chance again. There. He could hear it moving, creeping towards him, and feel its gaze sliding across his body. He turned towards the sound, ready to meet it mid-flight, but then it was behind him, then to his side, then the other. Was there more than one, or was it just that fast? He pulled out his keys from his pocket. He might as well be unarmed, but it was something. Maybe he could scratch the bastard at the least.

He heard the faintest movement to his right, and he whirled, stabbing towards it, yelling, or trying to, but his mouth was completely covered by large, slender hands, and his arm held by the other hand, the grip strong but not hostile.

“Calm, Etelendi. You have good instincts, and some fight in you, I see,” he said softly, his face deadpan and serious but a laugh dancing in his eyes as he looked at the keys. Zach’s face went flush red, but he lowered his arm and the man slowly let go, putting his index finger to his mouth, instructing silence. Zach felt something slick on his lips, conspicuously different from the feel of sweat, licking them quickly and tasing something coppery and foul. The man was covered in blood, likely the creatures, and he resisted the urge to vomit.

“We must be gone. I wounded the beast and led it away, but it could return at any moment. We mu-” The man’s eyes went wide, and he drew his bow and turned in one smooth motion, but he was too late. Zach could see it just behind the man, maw stretched wide and filled with razors. Just as the creature’s mouth enveloped the stranger, he standing resolute as he fired his last arrow, a heat began to lick Zach’s flesh, at first irritating and uncomfortable, then transforming into a blaze that made him howl in pain. The air shimmered and expanded as an explosion of orange, red, and yellow roared and blasted him backward, his ears popping from the intensity. He rolled as he landed, dazed, and he tried to sit himself up groggily, but his arms quivered weakly and he fell back against the ground, head slamming against it, and darkness overtook him.

If it was a dream, he prayed that he would wake from it soon.