“You have got to be shitting me.” Jack whirled around, almost flying out of the hard wooden chair he had parked himself in. The four who had been chasing them were forcing through a door next to the bar.

Around them pool cues clunked, drinks swished, and chair legs scraped as a mass exodus began.

“I can already see how this one’s going.”

“I’m not watching that again.”

“Let’s get out of here before Ward gets started.”

The population of the pub rapidly dwindled, the succession of patrons giving Hannah odd looks as they filed out. She paid them no mind. She was staring at the four vampires, her knees undecided on whether to remain attached.

Soon, the pub was empty, but for the two groups and an irate bartender. She was a tall young woman, with curly black hair and broad shoulders, and was glowering at them with her hands on her hips.

“No,” she said, “you’ve got to be shitting me! You’ve driven all me customers away, you bunch of lunatics!”

Jack shrugged. “Early close; ain’t that the dream?”

Russ sighed, cradling his face. “Why do you always bring trouble to my doorstep, Jack?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Hey, what’s worse, this or the cat?”

Hannah’s knees came to a decision, and she knit her brows. “What cat? What are you talking about?”

“Long story.”

“More importantly,” said Lydia, “who is Ward?”

“No,” said a gruff voice which sounded ready to explode. A bright light erupted, forcing them all to shield their eyes. “The most important thing here is why are you ignoring us?!”

The light dimmed, and they could make out the forms of the four vampires. The two in cloaks were in the middle, the rough-hewn fabric reaching around their ankles. One was tall and willowy, the one who had spoken short and stocky, and both had palpable glares despite their covered faces.

The other two had fanned out: one behind Russ, a diminutive man with wispy hair, pinched cheeks, and a faded t-shirt. Behind Jack, Lydia, and Hannah was a man with slick hair, trousers, and a pressed white shirt. His hand was twitching towards his chest, like he was resisting brushing it.

“And now you all die,” said the tall one in the cloak, with a high and feminine voice.

“Oi!” The barmaid gestured behind herself, at the rows and racks of spirits suspended on the wall. “Can’t you read?!”

Amongst the alcoholic menagerie was a green sign, reading ‘No Fighting. No Magic’.

The stocky one scoffed. “What are you going to do about it?” He raised his arm, readying a transferal of energy, but froze in the grip of an unseen hand. Cheesy synth music began drifting through.

“Violence detected. Switching to battle mode.”

At the robotic voice, Jack’s jaw went slack. “What the bloody hell is that thing?”

“That would be Ward,” said Russ, pushing himself to his feet.

Lydia twitched. “What is this place? Who are you?”

“I’m one of the Outcasts.”

“The who?”

“We prefer to remain mysterious.

Lydia smirked, turning her attention back to the vampires. “That’s fine. A person tends to reveal a lot when their life’s in danger.”

Jack curled his lip. “Are you ever not pretentious?”

“Calculating initiative order.”

Hannah’s expression tightened, a knot forming in her gut. “What does that mean?”

“Why can’t I move?” cried the vampire next to Russ. It was understandable reaction, staring up at a mountain of a man. He may as well have been a bear.

Russ shook his head. “This place has layers upon layers of wards, runes so old they’ve been forgotten; so many that they’ve come together into something more. This is how it controls violence.”

“Player one’s turn.”

A spotlight shone on Jack from nowhere, and his eyelid had a seizure as he stood up. “Oi, doesn’t it feel like the author’s taking the RPG part of LitRPG a bit too seriously right now?”

“Don’t be stupid,” said Hannah. “This is obviously a turn-based parody.”

Russ quirked an eyebrow at him. “You know it’s your turn, right?”

He pulled at his hair. “More like why is it turn-based? I don’t know what to do; shouldn’t I have a list of available actions?”

“You should probably be snappy about it.”

“Time limit elapsed. Turn over.”

“But I thought talking was supposed to be a free action!” cried Jack.

The spotlight flicked over to Russ. “Told you.” He flexed his powerful chest as his muscles rippled and expanded, hair sprouting from all of his pores. After a second, where had once stood a man was a beast: a colossal grizzly bear, all claws and teeth with shredded clothes beside him.

Lydia snickered, her eyes twinkling with satisfaction. “So you’re a Shifter.”

The bear roared, rearing up and swiping at the small man in front of him, sending him ploughing through furniture and clattering into the wall. The chairs scattered everywhere, and the vampire could only groan. His head lolled.

“Player three has been eliminated. Switching to player four.”

The spotlight illuminated Hannah, who tensed all her muscles, her face as though she was pushing out the heftiest of breakfasts. “Okay, I’m done.”

Jack narrowed his eyes. “What are you doing?”

She looked at him like he’d asked which way was left. “Readying the dodge action.”

He groaned. “Come on, have you ever looked in the mirror? You were born to play the straight man, not fool around like this! There’s already enough idiocy here. If you add to it, the universe might implode.”

Her nose crinkled, her face aghast. “Straight woman.”

“Okay, fine, I’m sorry, now be the straight woman!”

“Player five’s turn.”

The spotlight flicked over to the tall magus, who twisted her hand and shot a bolt of energy at Hannah. She slid aside, avoiding it.

“What the fuck?” said the magus. “That spell never misses.”

Hannah smirked. “That’s the dodge action.”

“What did I just say?” said Jack.

“Player six’s turn.”

The well-dressed man beside them was lit, backing away from the confrontation until he leaned on the bar. “Pint of Heineken and a packet of cheese and onion, please.”

The stocky vampire waved his arms like he was trying to signal a distant vehicle. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, Gamey? Get back over here!”

He sipped from the glass which was placed in front of him, popping open the bag of crisps. “I don’t like violence.”

“Player seven’s turn.”

The spotlight switched to that vampire, whose forehead vein was almost peeking through his hood. “What do you think we came here to do, start a book club? Alright, that’s it!” He reached deep into his focus, his mouth frothing as he tried to expand the range of telekinesis.

“Critical failure. Assigning consequence.”

“Wait, what?” Instead of his enemies, his blast of kinetic force was focused on himself. It hammered into his legs. He flipped over, screaming, and crunched down on his face.

“Player eight’s turn.”

Lydia’s expression cycled between confused and furious. “But I can’t use magic!”

Rolling his head back, Jack sighed. “I’m sorry, what use actually are you?”

She growled. “It’s not like I can help it, I burned myself out at their hideout!”

He inhaled through his teeth. “Didn’t anyone ever teach you to always save a spell slot, you moron?”

“Who are you calling a moron? That assault was meticulously planned!”

“Oh, yeah, what a plan! You’d think-”

“Time limit elapsed. Turn over.”

Lydia’s face went the colour of a beet, contorting into a snarl. “You made me waste my turn, you imbecile!”

“You wasted it yourself, you simpleton! In fact, you’re a waste of POV!”

A rigid silence fell over them all, everyone unsure what to say until the vampire at the bar piped up.

“That’s just horrible, dude.”

The tall one nodded. “You shouldn’t say things like that.”

The stocky one shook his head. “Dick move, bro.”

As he was illuminated, he sighed. Meeting her eyes, his blood ran cold against her piercing stare.

“Player one’s turn.”

He opened and closed his fist. “At this point, I may as well just do whatever!”

“Understood. Assigning random action.”

“I didn’t mean it literally!” His stomach did an Olympic diving display as an invisible force grabbed him, compelling his movement. He pivoted on the spot, until finally, he was facing a hundred-and-eighty degrees from his original position.

“Turn over.”

“That’s not funny in the slightest!”

The spotlight shone upon Russ, his fur bristling as he padded over to the cloaked woman. He roared. Whimpering, she staggered backwards, tripping over herself as she scrambled under a table.

“Turn over.”

Jack stared, fighting back the tears. “Is that it?”

Russ growled, his head changing back to that of a human, like he was some maniac’s alchemy experiment. “I only get one action!”

“But you just transformed, that definitely counts!”

“Player four’s turn.”

Hannah readied the dodge action.

Jack screeched in frustration. “Again? Just run away if you can’t fight!”

She threw her arms up. “What if they snipe me with magic?”

“Well, then you...” He scowled.

She smiled, the smugness almost painting her with colour.

A table was the next in the order, wooden and steadfast as it was brightened. Scampering from underneath, a cloaked vampire hurried away from the battle, the spotlight following her as she joined her comrade at the bar.

“Pint, please.” She hung her hooded head. “Of rum.”

As the light swung over, Gamey just munched on his snacks.

Baring his teeth, the remaining vampire flared, his hood rustling as he clambered to his feet. “Why did you idiots even come? Fine, I’ll do it myself!”

An incandescence took root in his hand, and he turned to Jack with a menacing grunt. Tossing the fireball, he cried, “have that!”

Jack’s eyes, tired of their sockets, attempted an escape. Extending its holiday, his heart bounced around his gums, in league with his eyes – his teeth chattering and stomach curdling as he watched the flames fly at him.

He howled. He felt his skin begin to blister, the torridity licking at his sleeve as his shoulder went ablaze. He wanted to cry; that was his only jacket. Slapping at the conflagration, he sighed in relief as it petered out.

And then an ember drifted upwards, and he was forced to slap at his own face as his beard combusted. When he finally put it out, his facial hair was patchier than a dial-up connection.

Lydia pointed at him and guffawed. “You look like you crawled out of your mother’s basement!”

His face went crimson as he fingered the fresh hole in his jacket. “Shut up!”

“Player eight’s turn.”

Striding over to him, she grinned. “Don’t worry, I’ll help you put it out.”

A bead of sweat fell down his forehead. “Uh, I already did.”

Her smile sweeter than Stevia, she stopped at his side, hefting up one of the scattered chairs and testing it – practicing her swings with unbreakable focus.

She drove it into his back.

He yelled, coughing as his lungs emptied, and dull agony speared through his ribs. “What are you doing?!”

Folding her arms, she threw the chair down and turned away with her nose up. “That’s for calling me a waste of POV.”

He whimpered. “Turn-based battles can go to hell.”

“Player one has sustained critical damage. Would you like to cast a bonus action?”

Jack sprung back up, wincing, and exhaled. “Finally, something’s going right; of course I wanna cast it!”

“Understood. Casting Summon Cloud.”

His face faulted. “What’s that supposed to be? It’s not like I’m still on fire!”

Everyone stared in wonder as a pillar of light erupted in the centre of them, almost burning their retinas. When it faded, it revealed a skinny boy with impossible hair, wielding a sword nearly as big as he was.

For copyright reasons, further description will not be given.

“That’s the wrong kind of Cloud!” screamed Jack. “Are you trying to have us struck from the internet?”

“Limit Break!” said the swordsman, rushing back-and-forth through the two in cloaks with innumerable, lightning-quick slashes.

Almost a blur, he elicited bellowing wails as he cut through them, forcing them both to crumple and stain the floor. Everyone else stared in shock. The music ended, and the swordsman dissipated, Jack turning to Lydia with his lips pressed together.

“And that’s how it’s done,” he said.

She made a noise somewhere between a chuckle and a huff. “You didn’t do anything; it was all Cloud!”

“And who summoned him?”

As her jaw cycled, Russ shifted back to human form, the fur retreating into his bare skin as everything hung free.

Jack groaned, averting his eyes, whilst Lydia looked on with flat eyes.

Hannah stared at him, completely slack. “Why are you naked?”

One eye narrowed as he regarded her. “It’s not like I can wear them as a bear, is it? And I have a question, actually.” When there was no reply, he continued.

“Why are you in black-and-white?”