Over the next hour I recounted to Sam all the events that had transpired since the day I fled the town.

How the Skhites had healed me even when they didn’t have any health vials. How the village accepted me as a member after I helped Orka. The attack of the Hornies and my out-of-the-blue coronation. The game world making me an evilun and my new abilities.

Sam was particularly interested in my abilities and wanted a demonstration. I transformed myself into monsters before him, and he clapped with great enthusiasm, almost like a child.

But after that I told him of the responsibilities that now felt like a burden. That I was becoming disillusioned with kingship. I narrated the killings I had seen and the endless days of starvation and torture. I mentioned the shaman and his prophecy, and my desire to escape everything. I observed in Sam’s eyes that his perspective on my position was slowly changing. Being the ruler of thousands was not as cool as he had initially thought.

“Well,” Sam said, thoughtfully, biting his nails. “I guess, at the end of the day, everything has its pros and cons. But you are choosing only the negative. Don’t get me wrong. I understand it must be terrible to be constantly bothered with the problems of your followers. It’s completely at odds with your old life.”

“I am not being pessimistic,” I said, “I am thankful that I have my body here. In the real world I would have remained lying on a bed for years with no guarantee of ever walking again. But nobody raised me to be a king. I want to choose the brighter aspects of my position, but it’s not easy.”

Sam stretched his arms and leaned backwards. He narrowed his eyes.

“You know what you need?”

I raised a brow. There was a certain confidence in Sam, like he knew a sure fire way out of my fix.

“A break,” Sam stated.

“I can’t just stop being the king,” I said, dismissing Sam. He was being unreasonable. “What would happen to the seven thousand monsters that look up to me?”

Sam lazily turned his head from side to side in disagreement.

“But you said all you really do is spend time alone in this chamber,” Sam said. “You have no interest in helping the Hornies, and you feel the Skhites too are becoming a burden. If you take a break you will feel refreshed. It will only benefit the monsters in the longer run.”

“But…” I protested, and bit back my tongue, understanding that Sam was right.

“No but-tocks,” Sam said, “your monsters have the basic things they need. They have food, water and shelter. Most of their problems are minor ones. Same like all the petty problems humans create for themselves in the real world. The only thing that they really need to worry about is player attacks. Just ask the Skhites to spend as much time in this village as they can instead of going far from it. And ask the Hornies to stay put too during the length of your vacation. Simple as that!”

I felt like Sam had made a small medicinal puncture on my soul, releasing all the unwanted excess pressure. He had given me the best advice I could have ever wished for.

My ministers were all monsters themselves and hence all problems were too personal for them. They couldn’t think outside the box. Instead of helping me, they erected walls between me and proper solutions to nagging matters. Sam on the other hand was a complete outsider. He had a fresh outlook.

Smiling, I ran a hand through my hair.

“So what am I exactly supposed to do in this break?”

***

The Skhites were overtaken by panic when I told them I was going to skip being a king for some time. The Hornies too came running to the village, requesting me not to abandon them. I reassured all the monsters I would definitely return, and that what I was doing was ultimately for their betterment.

“But when will you return to us?” my ministers asked with grave faces.

“When it’s time,” I told them.

I was going to return only when I felt like returning. In fact there was a part of me that didn’t want to come back at all. I would have to suppress that part though.

It was at the dead of night that Sam and I departed the village in maximum secrecy. Only the guards that were patrolling the tunnels saw us. I asked them not to make a fuss by waking up the general population.

Sam had brought a magical crystal called the Respawn Stone when he initially came to the forest in search of me. This stone let him be with me, by allowing him to log out to the real world to tend to his bodily needs, and log back in without having to go to the town of players.

Sam and I walked away into the cold dark forest with spirited feet. For the first time in months there was no weight on my shoulders. I felt carefree. I had also left my crown in my chamber, asking the guards to keep a vigilant eye on it.

In the days that followed, Sam and I explored the forest. We spent time reliving our childhood. We would sleep in the open, under the stars, and wake up to the warm kiss of the morning sun.

We would pluck fruits from trees and devour them for pleasure, even though we needn’t eat anything in the game world. When we came across small streams we would go swimming. We didn’t fear anything. I was an evilun myself, so there was little fear of monsters. Sam was a player, and with him as my companion there was not much reason to be afraid of waking up to hostile players.

Still, we avoided any kind of contact with eviluns and players. I would be most alert when alone. Sam had to log out on a timely basis to take care of his real body.

At one point, in the course of our meanderings, we came face to face with the place where the Hornies lived. It was a dome shaped structure completely made of stones. It had just a single heavily guarded entrance. I couldn’t see any opening other than the entry through which light could pervade the monument. The dwelling of the Hornies must be as dimly lit as the Skhites’ village. My earlier unwillingness to visit the Hornies was quite justified.

Sometimes we would come across players and monsters engaged in violent combat. We never interfered, and preferred to quietly steal away from the place.

There was a great diversity of monster races in the forest. They ranged from tiny monsters half the size of a pinkie, that dwelt in hollow cavities inside trees and were called Littlefuts, to a myriad of smaller races that ran about carrying all kinds of primitive weapons, to much larger ones that Sam said were the stone giants. These would lie still for great lengths, patently anticipating unsuspecting players to come along. Such stone giants usually lived solitary lives and rarely came in contact with others of their kind. On the occasions they did they would beat each other up.

Sam and I witnessed one such fight. Thankfully, we were at that time on a hilltop, and the brawl was taking place a couple of kilometers away.