"Do you know what I've always been curious about this game?"

Ronnie grunted in response.

"Why can we create only one character, and even changing the appearance is impossible? Except for some small details. I think it's all about the nerve endings. We become one with our characters, becoming its consciousness. We live in an interesting time. Maybe it's the same in reality? Can we use someone's consciousness?"

"You should drink less, otherwise you’ll end up in the wrong place doing wrong things."

The blacksmith muttered something under his breath, then raised his voice and said:

"Fuck you, Ronnie. I can drink here, even until I'm blue in the face, and smoke as much. I get pleasure only from the realization that there is an effect, but there are no consequences. So what do you think?"

"I think everything you said is nonsense. We are aware of ourselves. That's the difference."

"Then why are scientists still unable to determine exactly how thoughts or words that come out of our mouth appear in our head? We don't think when we talk, do we? Dreams? They're a mixture of reality and imagination. Maybe it is through them that our subconscious speaks to us."

"Have you read books on philosophy to your wife?"

Doffersnoah laughed and added the phrase, "If only."

Ronnie did not take his eyes off the horizon, watching the meter-long waves rushing forward. They reminded him of the ranks of a medieval army during an offensive. The dark blue clouds seemed to imitate their heavenly brother not only in color but also in shape, merging into an unattainable gloomy valley together.

"When are you going to the dungeon in the mountains of Orodrim Eoul?" Doffersnoah asked.

"Tomorrow."

"You have a lot of problems with trusting people, right?"

Ronnie turned to him, tilted his head slightly to the side, and asked:

"Decided to get into my soul?"

"I decided to say what I see, but I want to try to reach to you, either I succeed or fail. Listen to me, boy. You have to go through a difficult dungeon with an unfamiliar group. But you don't consider them comrades, do you? Without unity, you'll all die there."

"We have an exploration mission, not a combat mission."

The blacksmith clenched his fists, and answered:

"Don't fool me, boy. I'm not an idiot. I’m more surprised that the head of the alliance swallowed the bait so easily. Eh... and I voted for him this month."

"People at the very top are thinking about how to maintain their position."

"And at the bottom about how to make the lives of their own kind better. I know. An old fairy tale. Some decide, others endure and execute. That's how it works."

"Write down this thought, if you start writing, it'll come in handy."

"That's a thought. Who knows? If the game will bend..."

They laughed dryly. Ronnie closed his eyes. Doffersnoah crossed his arms over his chest and looked ahead and noticed how a bird flew near the shore, whose body resembled a humanoid, its head bald like a bowling ball. The skin was gray, and under it was a sinewy muscular body. The wings on the back were translucent, revealing strong black bones and dark orange skin without any plumage. Instead of legs, the creature had a snake's tail. It flew over the surface of the water like a fighter jet, deftly grabbing the fish with its hands and devouring it in the process. Then the dragon's head appeared out of the water, grabbed the predator, and dragged it into the abyss. Doffersnoah jerked in surprise, Ronnie felt it, turned his eyes, and looked at him.

"I’m fine," the blacksmith replied and waved his hand. "I wanted to say that something isn't right here. Be careful."

"It's a game," Ronnie said.

"Which has become more real to you than the real world."

Doffersnoah drank another glass and again poured the same amount as before, not a millimeter more, not a millimeter less.

"Life outside the game hardly makes sense to you. You are sitting in your kitchen or on the loggia, and thoughts about yourself are spinning in your head and you want to escape from them."

Ronnie turned his pupils in his direction, the blacksmith did not move and looked at the sea, at the rising white moon and the departing orange sun.

"In dreams," he continued, "you see a reflection of your past. I'm saying this because it's the same with me. So many years have passed since the moment I can't talk about, and the pain has not subsided even a little bit."

The blacksmith emptied the glass and forcefully put it back, took a bottle of whiskey, and turned it in his hands examining the fiery liquid.

"We are not players here. We are refugees from another world in search of freedom, which is expressed in everyone's own way: for me it’s solitude, and for you in travel and the desire to win. If you are so eager to become the first, then you already know what you will ask the developers. The stakes are high for you."

Ronnie turned away and exhaled heavily.

"Can you tell me why you're trying so hard?"

"No."

"You don't want to lie?"

"Rather afraid to admit it to myself."

From the black thickness of the oceanic surface, a huge whale jumped out with its mouth open, which could fit half of Otron. There were three rows of teeth on the lower jaw, each with a couple of hundred sharp fangs, and between them lay the torn body of a sea dragon. So much blood flowed out of its long worm-like body that it poured out from the edges of the mouth of the predator, the devil, sleeping in the dark depths of the waters. The mere sight of it filled them with pure primal horror. Dark blue dragon scales protected the monster's body. Snowy eyes without pupils spewed indifference and cold calm. It growled like a hundred tubas playing the lowest possible note at the direction of the conductor. Ronnie and Doffersnoah saw for three seconds how one-fifth of the whale's body froze in the air as if celebrating a successful hunt, and then fell on its back and disappeared, leaving behind only a spot of blood and waves seven meters high, which crashed against the stone cliff of Carnil’s Cape. After that, several boulders fell down and shattered into pieces.

"Damn, what a monster," the blacksmith said.

"Now I understand why the players stopped going to explore the ocean."

Doffersnoah laughed, but his face expressed sadness. He poured another whiskey and drank it right away. Ronnie felt the blacksmith was about to plunge into his inner feelings and interrupted him before he could start, put his hand on his shoulder and said:

"Okay. Let's have a drink together."

"What toast?"

"For the universal madness that cannot be curbed."

"And for the fact that when death comes for us, we'll spit in its face."

"Because it deserves it.…"

"Because it deserves it.…"

They clinked and emptied their glasses, and both winced a little. Ronnie felt the warmth flow through his body and became somehow calmer. In the grave-white rays of the moon, a flock of DaenMads flew by like a blue cloud. One of the birds came down to them and sat on the table next to the whiskey. It looked at Ronnie with glowing eyes, and then at Doffersnoah, cawed and flew away.

"These fucking creatures, boy, they are so weird."

"Yeah. Just ignore them."

The blacksmith filled two glasses, and the bottle ran out. He looked at Ronnie, stood up, and said:

"One toast came to my mind."

Ronnie got up reluctantly. Part of the moon was hidden behind a thin haze of clouds. The blackness of the night was getting thicker. The waters of the ocean became eerily gloomy as if they had turned into a lifeless plain littered with ashes and cinders. In addition, there was no end in sight for it. Moreover, from this pitch darkness, the low voices of howling monsters and gnashing teeth could be heard. The waves hit the stone cliff of the cape with greater force.

"For a war without consequences."

The cold night light flashed white in Ronnie's eyes. He raised his glass and said:

"For a war without consequences."

They finished the get-togethers and agreed to meet at nine in the morning.