Sy wondered about his abilities. His character wasn't a particularly high level. They were, in fact, quite abysmal. He was a casual gamer, at best. And the times he does spend on games was rare. Barely a few times a year, and those usually lasts a few days, and up to a week, before he gives up out of sheer boredom.

He was barely qualified for the quarter of the story-line quests in the game, let alone some of the amazing items that were way above his level. His main class was a level thirty spartan, being able to wield a shield, and spear, or a short sword. And his subclass of a level twenty-three covenant creationist was an exotic class of unique properties and benefits.

It wasn't every day when fiction came to life; in fact, it was disorienting and preplexing. Sy could still feel the instinctive ability of his classes, and the spells and benefits that arrived with it were almost as natural as breathing. Usually, when using a technique within the game, your options were given to you via the pop-up screens that appear in front of you.

This wasn't anything like that. This was real, and he understood it intimately.

Now that the mental summation was out of the way, he had to look into what equipment he currently carried.

He didn't have the luxury, nor the items that came with him automatically equipped with the bag, just by accessing the inventory on the screen. Which he seemed to be missing on both of those things. Until he found the satchel in his room, along with the treasury room in the basement.

What was important, was taking stock of what he did have. Specifically, what the coffee shop had.

The game came into the market when the technology was first introduced, which was when he first bought it. He played it on, and off over the years. Sometimes not in the same account, and most of the time on different character creations. What was important, however, was the avatar he became was his very first creation all those years ago.

What that meant was, he should have something significant saved up within the treasury. Especially since he couldn't bring it over to another account, or the newly created character classes.

When Sy flipped open the bag covers, all he found was a void of black space. That... didn't bode well, especially when one doesn't want to stick their hands into something that might lose him a limb. Still, he did put his hands inside it, and it disappeared into the bag.

A few thousand gold talis, dozens of health and mana potions, a rare skill book, and finally about thirty magical weapons, shields, and armour. Unfortunately, he first had to dump everything out in order to take stock of the items. He had no clue what were in there until he emptied everything from within it. It wasn't as if he could click on the bag and have the items appear in front of him.

When he did empty it of everything, the bed was practically covered with the potions, and the floor was littered with a small mountain of glittering coins.

He might have to get the coins tested on their purity and their overall worth some time later.

The armaments were mostly of low in both quality and enchanted magic. At least, in terms of game mechanics. They looked pretty deadly from where he stood, however. Any of his blades could still cut a man in half if used. Especially the Helblade, an artifact weapon of some legend, with a level of twenty-nine.

He shuddered to think what a level cap of a hundred could accomplish.

He picked up the mythalal steel spear, instead. It would not only serve as a walking stick, but it would make for a great piercing weapon. It stood at five foot to the tip of the pronged spear. The balance was good, and the weight was almost nonexistent in his hands. The enchantment engraved upon it was a Dragon's Fire spell. It should cause a good enough of a distraction that they should be able to get away if things get dicey.

All in all, the weapon was a level forty-five, and way above his level.

Normally, he wouldn't even be able to pick up the weapon, let alone wield it. Yet, here he was, already having the intuitive ability to cast the weapon's spell on command.

His fingers were dexterous and strong enough to twirl the weapon around him like a baton. When he started performing the martial forms, Sy understood it immediately. Sy had no knowledge of martial arts in or outside of the game, but here, he felt the knowledge seared into his muscles memory. It felt incredibly natural to him; it was as if he had been practicing martial combat for decades.

It was... unsettling, to say the least.

Ignoring the rest of the clutter, he made his way down into the basement and opened the thick fortified metal doors of the treasury room. There was barely anything inside. A few hundred gold and silver talis, and a bunch of miscellaneous magical items, alchemical potions, and stones of little worth.

Nothing else special to speak of.

Ah. There was also a summoning scroll of the ancient Yizigg'dhrih the Enigmatical. A one time use, only.

The less said about that, the better.

Sy made his way up the basement, and into the hallowed halls of his coffee shop. He should name it. It's better than being named Coffee Place. Maybe something else, something that held meaning now that he had... transitioned. Now, he was in a foreign land, in the middle of nowhere, and with little capital.

The hardwood brown floor of the shop was as shiny and as clean as ever. The interior had a rustic homely feel to it, despite its size. The shop stood a massive three thousand-square-foot, three stories high, and took a great deal of cleaning. Manually. Sy found that out the hard way.

He really needed to hire someone.

"Are you ready?" Vánagandr looked... bored, behind the counter. She still wore the same outfit, though the shoes had been changed into something a bit more appropriate for outerwear. Other than that, nothing's changed. She placed a cuppa of coffee in front of him. The golden brown liquid wafted a hot, delicious smell in the air. And the flat white foam on top was formed into a cute little bear.

This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

Sy blankly looked up at her cold expression. Cuteness and Vánagandr did not mix. "I'm not a bartender for nothing. The coffee's spiked with alcohol,"

"So, how is our guest settling in?" He took the cup and sipped it. It was good. Sy's thoughts turned to the curious little young lady. The girl looked about as fragile and demure as she looked. No surprises there, considering what she went through. "Is her room well enough for her?"

"The girl isn't used to it. Yet. The washroom fascinates her, especially the toilet. And she's afraid to touch the bed," Vánagandr replied, looking thoughtful. "A farmer's daughter by trade, and was intended to marry a village boy before everything went to hell. I have no doubt she'll settle in quite nicely. That one's stubborn, despite appearances."

Sy went quiet for a moment. The idea of putting her to work here seems reasonable enough, but the girl may need to go back to her own people. The shop was no place for a baby, and certainly not a healthy environment without family and friends the girl's own age. Still, more the reason they should get going soon to the site of the massacre.

"No weapons?" Sy said, already knowing the answer.

Vánagandr rolled her eyes. "You should know the answer already."

Of course, he did.

Sy sighed. Finished with the cup, they both stepped out into the warm summer breeze. And there stood Alliea, and Jǫrmungandr. The language barrier was a problem, but when you have a druid on your side, the problem sort of goes away after a translation spell. A temporary measure, to be sure. But learning the language shouldn't pose much of a problem once they have found a competent teacher.

"Alliea," Sy nodded respectfully. "Are you ready to go?"

She was not. Alliea found safety within the shop, but now they were forcing her to go along with them on a rescue operation. Well, forcing was a strong word. It was more of a polite request, but they made sure she knew that they were there to help and rescue any more of her people should the need be necessary.

Alliea readily complied without hesitation. A brave girl, that.

The baby was left behind, for safety sake. What was the boy's name? Nennich, or something or other, would be taken care of by Jǫrmungandr, and Hel would protect them if any more of these... people had followed her.

Alliea hesitantly nodded, and said, "Yes, I'm ready,"

Sy wasn't exactly ready, either.

Jǫrmungandr stepped forward. "Well, now it's my turn,"

His fingers danced in the air, and runes seemed to materialize into reality. The air shimmered in a golden glow. And just like that, they had their ride.

A ferocious cry went up, and massive warhorses came into existence from a small distance away.

Alliea let out a startled cry when the two warehouses cantered toward them from literally nowhere, and finally came to a stop by the druid. Even Sy was startled by how majestic they looked. In-game mechanics and powerful resolution don't give it the same experience as watching a live horse in person. Especially something as otherworldly as these ones.

His ran his fingers through the one with the soft black fur, and they nickered in restlessness. They wished to run, he sensed.

As far as summons go, they were as basic as they could get. The horses were spiritual animals from a completely different realm. Killing the animal would only disperse them from their plane of reality. So, should someone get hungry, well, they're shit out of luck.

As for the druid, Jǫrmungandr had the subclass of a summoner, which goes hand in hand with his main class. His gentle nature and natural predisposition towards any living beasts made him a great support class. Heck, he could charm a baby dragon into petting him. And you do not want to pet a baby dragon. And with his sub-class, the summoned creatures were far more likely to get along with the man.

Fingers and Mosey, they were called. One a pure black, the other a brown furred warhorse. Sy had no idea how to ride a horse, much less bareback. But he felt that that wouldn't be a problem for much longer. When the druid returned with the right equipment and helped harnessed the horses, they were ready to go.

"Well, you seemed to have everything ready," Jǫrmungandr replied, waving his hand in goodbye. "Make sure to come back safe and sound. And Alliea, your brother will be safe and sound with us," He said to the girl, now sitting behind Vánagandr.

"We'll be back by tomorrow," Sy turned toward the shop and gave it a thoughtful frown. "We don't know what's out there. It's a whole different land for all of us, so put up as many defenses and wards you could think of. And use Hel if you have to,"

After Jǫrmungandr gave his confirmation, they left with farewells.

When the night fell, Vánagandr and Alliea set up camp, while Sy patrolled around the area. When the fire was strong, and the smell of venison burning in the air, did Sy returned for some much-needed conversation.

"Alliea, about the people responsible for all this, tell me about them," It wasn't a question, and he didn't word it as such. "It's important we know what we're dealing with,"

The girl looked scared, but braved through. "They are an order of knights, from the kingdom of Kiset," This is when Sy noticed how uncomfortable she got. "They... are humans, like you,"

She stopped, almost timid. Sy knew this already when the druid explained it to him. Sy motioned toward her, and said, "Please continue,"

Alliea took a haggard breath of what he assumed to be a relief. "Fifty years ago, there was a war between Kiset, and an invading army of Afuiham. These two city-states have been both rivals, enemies, and allies for the last hundred years. I don't know much, but when the last war was fought, my people refused to fight alongside the city of Kiset. This has angered them, much more than I or my family ever imagined,"

"I see..., and they took their anger out on your people when peace finally settled between these two kingdoms?" Vánagandr asked, eyes narrowed.

"Yes, unfortunately," Alliea nodded. "You must understand. We actually did fight for the kingdom. They had taken many of our young men to fight, but the lies only that, lies. We are a people of few means, and the men of Kiset hated us even before the war. We pay our taxes, and our tithes to the church of the Light, and bribe whatever we can to the officials and soldiers that make their way to us. We make barely enough as it is, but we make it by because we have to,"

"Have you not tried fighting back?" Sy knew that was a stupid question even before he voiced it.

"We... have tried," The looked pained, closing her eyes in a grimace. "We are a fragile people, and we do not do well in wars as humans can. We are not as enduring as they are. It is one of the reasons why they don't just simply conscript all the young men into their army,"

Sy thought he understood. These... grey elves, or the vaerians as they were called, were a people of simple means with little affinity for war. A fragile people more common with the hobbits from the Tolkien novels. More than likely, the Kisetians hated the people of varie long before any wars began.

It really wasn't surprising they started these purges of varie settlements only recently. An easy target during peacetime.

"And what can you tell me about these... blessed people?" Sy switched the subject.

Alliea, if possible, looked deathly pale. "They are blessed by the gods themselves," Her eyes focused on him, her fear palpable. "If you see one, run. Please, for my brother, run."

Sy leaned back against the log, now utterly curious. "Tell me about them."