Going deeper into the Caeloran Oasis—still as humid and bug-infested as ever, like a putrid armpit of a dying world. Stagnant air was more prominent than ever, feeling clotted and thick just like the soup of decaying vegetation and monster musk that coated the densest areas—as well as the back of my throat, with every following breath.
But as disgusting as it was, the dense, chaotic foliage had become my greatest asset.
"RAAAUGH!"
A rusted, two-handed greatsword cleaved through the humid air, whistling a hairsbreadth above my scalp.
I threw my unarmored body forward into a tight roll, sliding through the slick mud and tucking myself behind the thick, moss-coated trunk of an ancient yucca-like tree.
**THUNK!**
The massive blade bit deep into the wood beside where my neck had just been, violently shaking the tree and showering my shoulders in sharp splinters and a cascade of shredded green leaves.
'Keep swinging, you overcompensating freak,' I quipped, wiping a smear of wet dirt from my cheek. 'Tire yourself out for me.'
The Hobgoblin grunted, planting its feet hard in the mud as it violently wrenched the oversized sword free. This particular brute had clearly scavenged a weapon entirely out of its weight class. It possessed the physical strength to lift the slab of iron, sure, but absolutely none of the technique required to wield it. It was completely off-balance, dragging the tip through the dirt before heaving it up for another wild, desperate swing aimed squarely at my head.
I didn't even draw my weapon yet. I just ducked to the right, letting the dense environment do the blocking for me.
**CRASH!**
The greatsword slammed into a low-hanging branch, snapping the thick wood entirely in half. A canopy of broad fern leaves rained down over the furious monster, temporarily blinding it. It shrieked in frustration, blindly thrashing the heavy blade back and forth in wide, horizontal arcs that sheared right through the underbrush.
I watched its sloppy footwork from my crouch behind my fellow tree trunk. My breathing was keeping steady. The frantic, panicked adrenaline that used to paralyze me was gone, morphed into a more calculating focus.
The monster hoisted the greatsword over its shoulder, its chest heaving with exertion, tongue flopping out as it panted like a dog. Dog-tired as it was, it still prepared for another massive, skull-crushing swing. An attack so telegraphed I could predict it by a full two seconds.
And thus, an opening showed itself.
I pushed off the muddy earth, darting out from cover. My right hand snapped to my back, drawing my bo staff more fluidly than ever. I didn't aim for a lethal blow—I aimed for its foundation.
**CRACK!**
I swung the oak staff low and hard, connecting sharply against the side of its leading kneecap. The Hobgoblin barked in pain, its top-heavy frame lurching forward as its leg buckled.
I kept the offense moving. I pivoted on my heel, using the momentum of the spin to bring the blunt end of the staff directly up into its exposed ribs.
**THUD!**
The breath rushed out of its lungs in a wet wheeze. But the beast was stubborn. It roared, ignoring the pain, and let gravity take over, bringing the heavy two-handed sword crashing down upon me in a desperate, vertical smash.
'Easy.'
I stepped directly inside its guard, driving the bottom half of my bo staff straight down into the soft, muddy earth with all my weight. The wood sank deep, sticking upright and quivering in the soil.
My hands were instantly free.
**SHING!**
Spinning, I drew the shortsword from my hip. I had to hand it to Godspeed—whatever corpse he looted this one from actually tookcare of their gear. The edge was clean, the iron mostly unblemished, and the hilt didn't feel like it was going to disintegrate in my palm.
I sidestepped the descending greatsword by a little more than an inch.
**CRUNCH!**
The Hobgoblin's heavy blade buried itself completely into the thick root of the tree, jarring the monster's arms and locking its weapon hopelessly in the wood. I lunged and drove my blade upward, sliding it effortlessly past the creature's thick, leathery pectoral muscle and burying it hilt-deep directly into its armpit—fatally piercing straight into its chest cavity.
**SQUELCH!**
The Hobgoblin's eyes bulged out like a bug's. It let out a single, wet gasp before its hands went slack, releasing the stuck greatsword. Dead.
I placed my boot against its ribs and yanked my blade free, immediately pivoting backward to avoid the inevitable spray of dark, hot blood. The creature swayed for a second before collapsing face-first into the mud with a heavy, final splash.
I stood over the corpse, my chest heaving as I sucked in the humid oasis air. Sweat stung my eyes, and my padded under-garments were caked in a disgusting mixture of clay, foliage, and monster grime. I rolled my neck, a satisfying series of pops echoing in my ears as the tension released from my shoulders.
I casually flicked the dark blood off my blade before sheathing it, then reached out to pull my bo staff free from the mud. Before I could even nab it and wipe the dirt off the wood, the familiar chime of the game's interface rang out in the quiet clearing. A translucent blue window materialized in front of my face, casting a faint glow over the dead monster.
[--System Alert--]
[Target Eliminated: Caeloran Hobgoblin (Infantry)]
[Experience Gained!]
[LEVEL UP!]
[72 → 73]
I stared at the glowing numbers, a genuine, exhausted smile pulling at the corners of my mouth. Ten levels. In just a handful of days, I had completely blown past the stagnation that had kept me trapped for near 3 months.
'I'm getting there,' I thought, closing the prompt with a flick of my wrist. 'I'm actually getting stronger.'
"Yes!" I hissed, throwing a quick, exhausted fist pump into the muggy air. "Thank Gawd."
I reached up to push my tangled, pink and purple bangs out of my face. My gauntlets were one of the few things that I had kept on, and as caked as they were, a quick glance from them onto my skin easily turned into the smearing of a disgusting concoction of sweat, mud, and monster grime across my forehead. I could only imagine how utterly nasty my avatar looked right now. I bet I looked like a walking trash heap.
"..."
…
'...Okay. I have something to say.'
Unsure.
Unsurety. Idk if it's really a word, but, it had been sitting in a certain corner of my head for the last few days. In a not-so-flattering corner. I wouldn't call it negative. More like…
'Hmmm…. It's just being real. A realist, yeah.'
The training was effective. More than effective. And I understand that not all training is training that a person is supposed to love… But it's feeling wrong.
Something is feeling Wrong.
The stronger I get, I guess… The uglier things start to look. And the less I can look at said things. In a path of strength… Am I turning a blind eye to some things? Ever since I first started hunting—
'Killing.'
… Hunting.
"Hunting."
… That was… --I am NOT trying to prove anything; just clearing up the distinction. Hunting and killing is different. And I am nota Killer.
"...Ugh~~. It's just the tiredness. It's about to make me go, like, Insane. It's just a game Sophia; just a game. Don't take it all so… Real."
Despite the rush of triumph(and now the crash after it) and the glowing Level 73 badge in my peripheral vision, an anchor of exhaustion dragged at my bones. I glanced at my HUD. My stamina bar was still sitting at a comfortable thirty-three percent. This wasn't only a game mechanic—It wasn't just draining in game.
The energy of my reality was bleeding through the hyper-realness projected by the headset. A debilitating one, that was taking way too strong of a grasp over me recently. The reason I started playing Virtuosa Valoria was to rid myself of said energy. A chance for some quick relief, and something to lay back with and not think too hard with.
'At least, that's what that one random chatter advised to play as stress relief during our convo on QuikChat.'
Priorities have shifted, though. Now the reason to continue this game… Well, it's to better myself; to find some spine, to stop feeling like a ghost in my own pathetic life. But my gawdd, was the game cannibalizing me faster than I ever could have expected. Gaming wasn't even my thing, yet here I was, trapped in a self-inflicted 'Hell Month.'
My quote-unquote 'strict' bedtime used to be 11:00 PM. Then it slipped to midnight. Now, I was fighting tooth and nail in a digital swamp at 1:00 AM... that's now feeling like 2:00 AM.
'...Fuck… I have work in five hours,' I cursed, a knot of dread tightening in my stomach, tightening stronger every day for what has now felt like weeks.
I was going to hate myself in the morning. Scratch that; I already hated myself. And I hated the sterile grey walls of the call center, and I hated Mikal and the endless queue of complaining voices, and I hated my messy, disorganized apartment that I was too exhausted to maintain right.
I squeezed my eyes shut and shook my head violently, trying to rattle the negative thoughts loose.
"...Stop it…" I muttered to myself.
I brought both hands up to my face, pressing my palms hard against my cheeks and rubbing aggressively. Up and down, over and over, trying to physically scrub the creeping anxiety out of my skin before it could paralyze me physically.
**CRUNCH!**
The sharp sound of snapping twigs and crushed leaves echoed directly behind me.
I spun on my heel, my hand instantly snapping to my hip. **SHING!** I whipped the shortsword out, pointing the iron tip dead ahead, my heart leaping into my throat.
… Again.
It was just Godspeed.
He stood there in his thrift-store cloak and grime-stained bandages, looking as relaxed as if he were waiting in line for coffee. I didn't lower the sword. I kept it leveled right at his chest. I knew it wouldn't actually do anything to him—he could probably shatter the blade by blinking at it—but I needed to look like I was worth something. Like I wasn't just a terrified call-center rep playing dress-up.
Godspeed ignored the weapon entirely. He strolled forward, walking in a slow, casual circle around me. I noticed he was holding a small, weathered leather pouch in his left hand, just dangling it.
He stopped next to the Hobgoblin corpse, leaning down to inspect the damage. He nudged its neck with the toe of his boot.
"See?" Godspeed murmured, his chaotic red eyes drifting up to meet mine. "That's what I'm talking about. One precise strike to the vitals. The armpit isn't just some soft spot of the body; Behind those ribs lies the heart, vulnerable if you know where to aim. A blade long and narrow enough can slip between the ribs and pierce straight through. You remembering our anatomy lesson from a few days ago left this hunt much cleaner."
I scoffed, my shoulders dropping a fraction, though I kept the sword raised. I used the tip of the blade to gesture toward his hand.
"So..." I panted, trying to catch my breath. "What is that pouch you have there?"
Godspeed paused, looking down at his hand as if he'd forgotten he was holding it. "Pouch?Oh, this thing?"
He reached his bandaged fingers into the leather bag and pulled out a handful of fine, powdery dust. Without another word, he casually tossed it over the bloody Hobgoblin corpse.
The dust hit the air and immediately began to sparkle. It caught the faint light filtering through the oasis canopy, glittering like a hundred tiny disco balls settling over the mud and gore.
My semi-desperate pace for breathing immediately killed itself. All intents of taking in oxygen stopped as I immediately recognized what the hell could be so sparkly.
Glimmer Spores.
My mind began to race, a lack of oxygen turning a feeling of unease worse. Why was Godspeed spreading Glimmer Spores on a fresh kill? There were only two things in the Caeloran Wastes that actively sought out that specific, glowing fungi. Star-Stags, and...
'...Oh.'
'Oh No.'
I didn't even bother finishing the thought. The implications, as wild as they were, slammed into me like a freight train.
"No!" I yelled, my voice cracking in panic and a desperate need of oxygen, now fulfilled once more. I aggressively crossed my arms over my chest, forming a hard X. "No, no,no. Absolutely not."
I immediately started backing away, my boots slipping slightly in the mud. I grabbed the bo staff from where I'd planted it earlier and hitched it onto my back, sliding my sword into its sheath also. I pointed a trembling finger at him, wagging it furiously.
"I'm not—I am NOT playing this time, dude!" I stuttered, any look of confidence I had faked earlier completely disintegrating. "I... I uh... I got a bed to get to! Okay? I am done for the night!"
I frantically swiped my hand through the air, summoning my user interface.
"Command! [User Interface]! [Log Out]!"
'Log out! Log out! Log out!'
[--System Alert--]
[Logout Sequence Initiated...]
"Leaving? But… You can't leave just yet," Godspeed said, a terrifyingly way-too-calm smile spreading across his face. "The lesson isn't over."
[--System Alert--]
[ERROR: {Cannot log out while in active combat or hostile proximity!}]
The blue window I was gonna call savior shattered into pixels.
My body immediately felt cold.
From the dense, thorny brush surrounding the clearing, a sound erupted.
"RUH-RUH!"
A sharp, throaty bark.
Then.
From my left:
"RAAUUF!"
A deeper, wetter snarl.
And.
From behind me.
Echoing through the trees:
"BARK-RAAUGH!"
I froze, the hair on my arms standing straight up. The worst part wasn't the volume, or the proximity. The worst part was that every single bark sounded completely different.
Multiple monsters. An ambush.
And Godspeed just stood there in the center of the trap he had just baited, waiting to see what I would do.
"Wh-what did you just do?" I stammered, my voice pitching up into a frantic, reedy squeak as my arms flailed in a craze.
My stamina bar was flashing a dull, warning yellow in my peripheral vision. My real-world eyes were physically burning in their sockets from exhaustion. I took another clumsy step backward, my heavy boots sinking deep into the foul-smelling mud of the oasis.
"I AM NOT DOING THIS!" I screamed, throwing a mud-caked hand toward the treeline where the barks were multiplying. "I am NOT fighting another one of those things today! I'm SPENT! I have nothing left! And a second one? THIRD?? Are you out of your damn mind?!"
Godspeed didn't draw a weapon. He didn't drop into a stance. He didn't even look remotely concerned by the chorus of approaching roars. Instead, he just tilted his head, reaching a grimy, bandaged hand up to grasp the frayed edge of his shawl's hood.
He paused, flashing me a slow, deliberate wink.
"Spent? Really?" he murmured, his tone infuriatingly light and amused. "Oh... Moonshine.You are severely underestimating yourself."
With one smooth motion, he pulled the heavy hood completely over his wild red hair. The fabric seemed to literally drink the meager light filtering through the canopy. His silhouette wavered, dissolving into the air like water evaporating from a boil, and then—Nothing. He was gone. Utterly, completely invisible.
I stood there, my brain stalling out as I stared at the empty space where my supposed mentor had just been standing.
'The cloak. That's how that motherfucker is always showing up out of nowhere.'
This revelation hit me more like a toy train, yet what should have been anger just multiplied my anxiety into legit FEAR. I was being left alone, with only a gripped shortsword I was gripping hard enough to make my hand cramp, and some other shitty weapons that I WAS NOT SUPPOSED TO DEPEND ON TODAY!!!
"Are you effing KIDDING MEEE—!" I shrieked at the empty air.
**CRASH!**
My scream was entirely drowned out by the violent splintering of wood.
**SMASH!**
The dense wall of ferns and other greens directly in front of me was violently torn apart. Not one, not two, but three wiry, sallow-skinned Hobgoblins burst through the foliage. Their yellowed tusks were bared, thick saliva flying from their heavy jaws as their bloodshot eyes locked squarely onto the glittering, spore-covered corpse at my feet.
And then, they slowly raised their heads, and looked right at me.