The dorm lights went out. A wave of complaints followed, along with the dorm supervisor yelling for silence, until everything finally settled down.
After a full day of grinding, none of them could fall asleep. Their bodies were exhausted, but their minds were still buzzing.
"Wanna grab some late-night food?"
Carlos was already thinking about the grilled fish from the stalls behind the school.
"Hell yeah. BBQ and beer—that's the life."
Igor didn't hesitate. After running Deadmines all night, whatever he'd eaten earlier was long gone.
"Alright, let's go," Gabryell said. "Call it a reward for today."
Hugo had just laid down, but immediately sat back up. "Then what are we waiting for? Let's sneak out."
Getting past the dorm supervisor was routine by now. So was climbing over the wall behind the school.
A few minutes later, they were already at the food stalls, ordering grilled fish, skewers, and way more beer than they needed.
"WoW's brutal. Played all day, my head's still spinning."
"Spinning? That's nothing. I died so many times my ghost couldn't even find my corpse. Had to res at the graveyard."
"You guys are trash. I'm already level 12. Stick with me, I'll carry you."
The conversation from the next table drifted over. Three guys, also deep into WoW, talking loud enough for everyone to hear.
Gabryell's group exchanged glances.
"WoW's blowing up right now," Carlos said. "When we went to the cafeteria earlier, everyone was talking about it."
"Yeah," Hugo added. "The TS I joined was flooded with WoW screenshots today."
Igor picked up a piece of fish. "If it's this popular, why don't we start a WoW club on campus? Pull in everyone who plays, get them onto our server, grow the guild."
Not a bad idea. Good for the guild long-term.
"Didn't expect that from you," Gabryell said.
Games were only really treated like a problem for minors. At university, things were way more relaxed. As long as you weren't breaking rules, nobody cared what you did.
Igor spat out a fish bone. "I've always been the smartest in the dorm. You guys just never admitted it."
That got ignored.
"Fine. You handle setting it up."
Exactly what he wanted.
"Deal. I'll take care of everything. But I'm the president."
"No problem," Gabryell said. "President Igor it is."
Igor looked at the other two.
Carlos popped open a beer. "I'm good with it."
"Same here," Hugo said. "I'm not dealing with that stuff anyway."
With that settled, Igor was practically glowing. In his head, the club was already a success—members pouring in, girls lining up to join, all of them crowding around him.
With the club settled, they kept eating while shifting the conversation to 301. Compared to the club, this was what really mattered.
"Tomorrow morning, I'll start designing the website."
"Give me two days, max. The Azeroth National Geographic forum will be up."
Carlos majored in web design. He looked rough around the edges, but academically he was top-tier—his work was often praised by professors.
The other two were software majors. Just getting into the university already meant they were among the best.
"Hugo, start on the voice chat prototype. Once I'm done with the club stuff, I'll jump in and help," Igor said, clearly still fixated on it. In his head, the club was already his ticket to getting a girlfriend.
"With the way things are going, I'd better not fall behind," Gabryell said lightly. "Once I finish the addon, I'll help with the voice software too. If anything comes up before that, just ask."
"What about the trading platform?"
Carlos shook his head. "Without a business license, we can't run it legally."
They could model it after existing online marketplaces and take a cut from transactions—it would be the fastest way to make money and keep everything moving.
"Don't worry," Hugo said. "I talked to my brother last night. He's interested in the project. He'll help us register the company and get the license sorted."
After a brief pause, he added, "And if we're short on funds, he can come in as an angel investor."
With manpower and funding lined up, everything was in place.
All they needed now… was time.
Gabryell let his thoughts drift ahead. If he'd been given a second life and still failed to make something of it, that would be a complete waste.
He raised his bottle. "To 301. Cheers."
The others followed, lifting theirs as well. "To 301. Cheers."
Fueled by the mood, the four of them drank until 1 a.m., ending up half-drunk. After that, they climbed back over the wall into campus, slipping past security and the dorm supervisors like seasoned pros. It was tense, but they made it back without a hitch.
Only then did the exhaustion really hit. Back in the dorm, no one even bothered showering. They dropped straight into bed and passed out.
April 27, 2004. Wednesday.
They slept until morning. Gabryell woke up first, still a little dizzy from the night before.
The others were still out cold, so he left them alone. He sat down at the desk, turned on the computer, and logged into the game.
He only had one class today, so there was plenty of time. He planned to play until class, head over, then come back and keep leveling. The goal was to hit level 25 and start farming the Stockade.
Gabryell logged in. As expected, the servers were struggling. Even early in the morning, there was already a queue.
Looking at the line of over a hundred players, he frowned. He powered on the other three computers and logged into their accounts as well, saving them from dealing with a much longer queue later.
At least Blizzard's queues were straightforward—no hidden wait times. The line moved steadily, and the hundred-plus players were cleared fairly quickly.
"It's not even summer yet… hope the servers don't melt."
The thought reminded him of a joke players liked to tell whenever the servers lagged or crashed.
Supposedly, it went like this:
"What's going on? The server's been down all day," a player asked.
"I can tell you," the GM replied, "but you have to keep it secret."
"Yeah, yeah. Just say it."
"…One of our server hamsters died."
"...What?"
"The replacement hamster wasn't fast enough, so everything slowed down."
"…You're kidding."
"Two hours later, the backup hamster escaped. We're still trying to catch it."
The player just sat there, completely speechless.
The GM then said they were working to fix the issue as soon as possible and would try to keep things fair.
And they did.
Not long after, the other servers went down too.
Shaking his head at the memory, Gabryell refocused on the screen. Fortunately, today Blizzard's servers were holding up. Aside from a bit of loading lag, everything was running normally.
He had just logged in and hadn't even checked his friends list or guild status when a message popped up from Dreamshade.
"I'm already level 22."
He opened his friends list and checked. Sure enough—22.
"How many Deadmines runs?"
"Eight."
That grind was insane. He had to give him that.
"Careful you don't drop dead."
"I'm going to sleep soon, but my character's staying online. Someone else will take over and keep leveling."
So he's trying to race me to 45.
Even with 24/7 leveling, it didn't bother him.
"I promised the guild the first ten to hit 40 get a mount."
A faint smile formed. An idea followed.
"Ten mounts might bankrupt me. I might not even afford my own. How about this—let's bet on who hits 45 first. Loser buys the winner a mount."
Confident in his setup, Dreamshade didn't hesitate.
"Deal. I was just worrying about mount costs earlier. Now that you're paying, I'm feeling great. Hahaha."
A walking gold dispenser.
"Have it ready. I'll come collect at 45."
"Gabryell, what are you laughing at?"
Carlos stirred awake, hearing the typing, and caught that groggy grin.
"Nothing," he said with a chuckle. "Just made myself 100 gold."
He could already picture Dreamshade's face when a Mage hit 45 first.
That was going to sting.
Paying for the mount?
That would hurt even more.