Everyone in the village had been expecting it since the day before, so the plague bell was rung with only moderate enthusiasm when the spawnpoint lit up.

A young man in chain mail, armed with a sword and shield, appeared on the platform from one moment to the next. He looked around, stretched as if after a long journey in a carriage and ran his hand through his bright orange hair. He looked around with wide eyes and an almost manic grin, then stepped down to the front. He bent down, wiped his hand over the cobblestones and rubbed some dirt between his fingers. "Awesome. Even with the smell. And the colors..."

He stood up and jumped up and down on the spot a few times. He drew his sword and waved it in the air, paying no attention to the spectators, who carefully took a few steps back.

An elf in a white robe appeared behind him. He stroked his long ears with his hand and then grinned as if he had found them for the first time. He leaned on a man-sized staff with inlaid copper runes to stride demonstratively and gracefully from the spawnpoint. With a sweeping gesture, he pointed the staff to the sky and shouted: "Firebolt!"

The runes and the red ruby at the tip lit up, and a fist-sized ball of fire appeared above the tip and flew away upwards. The sword wielder sheathed his weapon again and raised his right hand openly upwards. The elf struck it with the flat of his own hand in a strange gesture.

More adventurers appeared. Men and women in leather clothing, armor or robes jumped off the platform. The villagers watched as they ran around, jumping, swinging their swords, and wildly casting spells. Some performed a strange dance on the spot. Others took only a few steps, then bowed their heads and remained completely motionless for a few minutes before joining in the peculiar behavior.

Weylan looked on in disbelief: "Father, what are they doing? Are they drunk or something?"

"Noobs."

"What?"

"They are noobs. That's what young and inexperienced revenants are called. They're practicing their skills. They're still weak and clumsy now, but wait until they've risen a few levels. They'll be hunting through the village like locusts in a few days. Harassing our women, searching the houses for something to steal and plundering the cellars. Not to mention our beer supplies. We have no fighters apart from the village guard and a few hunters, none above level 6. Non-fighter classes don't stand a chance against warrior classes of the same level. Maybe we should have put up with the wolves after all. I'm such a fool."

Weylan patted him on the back encouragingly and then walked inconspicuously closer to the first two revenants to listen to them. The two completely ignored him and the other citizens.

The warrior put away his sword, which he had just waved around again, and turned to his companion: "Well, what did you take with the bonus for your old character?"

The elf mage stroked his long hair: "Well, handsome and charismatic. No one will ignore me this time."

"That's what you spent your bonus points on? Fluff benefits? You're incorrigible."

"I think I'll have fun with it. Remember that otherwise, it's practically impossible to have any other advantages besides magic talent. There's a reason why most mages are old bearded gnomes or just plain unattractive."

The warrior patted the elf on the back with a laugh: "As long as you have fun with it."

"So, what did you take? Your old paladin had reached an even higher level than mine before the last instance ended."

"A bonus of plus two to all attributes, higher quality starting equipment and..." He looked around and then pulled something out of a pocket—a finger-length staff with an octagonal cross-section made of a pale blue crystal.

The elf whistled melodically through his teeth, "Wow. A skill crystal? What's on it?"

"Sword fighting at journeyman level. I remember far too well how annoying it was to swing a sword around like a complete idiot. I'm simply completely untalented in real life. That's why it always takes me ages to level up. This time, I'm the best swordsman on the server for the first few weeks."

He held up the crystal and let the sunlight refract in it. Then he pressed one end against his forehead and waited a moment. The crystal flashed, then faded and became dull. The warrior's eyes shone momentarily in the same pale blue light. A blink later, the glow disappeared. He stared into space as he checked his character sheet, grinned and carelessly tossed the crystal aside onto the street. When it hit the ground, it shattered into dust, scattering in the wind.

"What did you do with all that gold? You must have had tons of equipment. Your old paladin armor alone was priceless back then."

"The exchange rate you can take over into the new instance is only 1 to 10. I took over part of it as currency but exchanged most of it for skill crystals."

"Do you need so many? Why didn't you use them to buy the skills directly? It's much more expensive than skill crystals."

The warrior grinned smugly: "Then you must not have looked closely at the advertisements for the new instance."

"What do you mean?"

"The army charging towards the wall? The short scene after the basic character classes are introduced?"

"That part of the video was three seconds long at most. Some warriors attacking a city wall. Nothing special."

"I did a lot of quests in the south. I recognized the attackers right away. They were desert warriors. In the last frame, you can see three different standards in slow motion. From completely different tribes."

The elf raised his eyebrow in confusion: "So?"

"They would never work together. There were already fears among the NPCs that the desert tribes would one day unite to conquer the southern realms."

"Okay, I still don't understand the connection. Do you mean a war increases the price of skill crystals? That could be the case. But is it worth it?"

"War raises the price of almost everything. But the only source of Cerebrum crystals... the only source in the whole world... are the caves around the Chromatic Salt Lake, in the middle of the desert."

The elf stared at him open-mouthed for a moment: "Shit! I mean... at the... armpit sweat of the elf goddess! Prices are going to skyrocket if that's true. Couldn't you have told me that before?"

"I only understood the connection during character creation when I looked at the desert warrior as a character class. There was no outside contact possible until I was finished. You know how it is. My original shopping list looked completely different." He shrugged apologetically. "So, let's finally get going. I already know where we're starting from." He rudely pointed directly at Ryoden's forehead and walked towards him.

"Greetings, citizens. I am OrcSlayer the Mighty, and I have heard that your village needs the help of true heroes."

The elf bowed: "Greetings to you, citizen. I am Legolias Firebrand. How can we help you?"

"Greetings, heroic adventurers. I am Ryoden, the shepherd. We are a peaceful, remote village. But now wolves have started attacking my flock. They have killed my faithful herding dog. When they've finished with the sheep, they'll surely attack the village unless you can stop them. Go out and kill at least five wolves. For every ten wolf ears, I can reward you with five silver coins."

"Five silver, that's fine. We'll both take care of it. We'll have a quick look around and then be back here in an hour to leave. It's best just to wait here."

Quest: Protect the herd accepted

The two adventurers walked away, discussing their strategy eagerly, without saying goodbye.

Weylan looked after them. When they disappeared from sight, he turned to his father: "These revenants cause more problems than they solve. Let me choose Hunter as my class and give me the quest."

"Do not try the gods! Don't start this nonsense again. If we're lucky, it'll stay with the wolves. If no higher-level quests show up, the revenants will soon find somewhere else to adventure. Either our wolf problem will disappear, or we'll become a training ground for noobs."

"Why do we have to put our fate in the hands of strangers? Most people in the village have already hunted and killed something. They could become hunters the next time they level up. We might even get a knight or warrior to train us."

"No! Where there are warriors, there are also quests for warriors. Golgoroth might even send us one of his dungeons. You'll become a shepherd, and that's that."

Weylan wanted to disagree, but he knew his father too well. He wouldn't change his mind. Weylan was in no mood for a pointless argument. He slumped his shoulders and was about to walk away when his father put his hand on his shoulder: "But there's no reason why we shepherds shouldn't defend ourselves. Ask Juttgar, the carpenter, if you can borrow one of his crossbows and buy a few bolts. I'll pay him later."

Weylan hesitated. "Father? I don't understand..."

"I have no desire to be eaten just because these noobs are more concerned with hitting trees with their fists at the wrong moment than hunting for wolves."

"Punching trees with your fist? Do they practice some exotic martial arts?"

"The bard who performs at the inn has talked about it before. During the last plague, some Respawners explained it to a bard. It's a joke among Respawners, referring to a game about the craft of mining."

Weylan's face was covered in a broad grin. He embraced his father and hugged him tightly: "You won't regret this. We'll show these revenants what a real shepherd can do."

Another figure appeared at the spawnpoint. A small, hunchbacked man who immediately began eagerly scattering flowers from a basket, leaving a path of colorful blossoms in his wake. Two more hunchbacks appeared behind him, carrying large paper fans on man-sized poles. The two stepped apart to the left and right, turned towards the center of the spawnpoint and raised their fans. Golden sparks appeared in the air and formed into a tall figure. A woman in magnificent robes walked majestically out of the shower of sparks. Long, curly, golden hair blew in a wind that no one else could see. The two fan bearers shielded her flawless skin from the sun with their fans. On her way out of Blossoms, she strode from the spawnpoint. She snapped her fingers and the first hunchback dropped his basket and raced towards Ryoden and his son in a strange hopping stride. "Are you the masters of this town?"

Ryoden laughed: "No, my lord. I am just a simple shepherd."

"Then get him. Quickly! You are the first in the presence of High Mistress Princess Federova." He cast a quick glance over his hunched shoulder at his mistress and added quietly, barely audibly: "She's in a bad mood. You really should hurry."

Ryoden nodded to Weylan: "Get Master Helming." His son nodded and sprinted off.

The princess did not wait but marched forward, still shielded by the fanbearers. Ryoden noticed impressed that wherever the petals landed on the ground, dust and mud disappeared from the ground. He wondered if this was a magical property of the flowers themselves or if they had been enchanted. He shrugged his shoulders as he walked. It didn't really matter.

She stopped at the edge of the open space and looked around in irritation. She beckoned to Ryoden, who politely hurried forward: "Mistress?"

One of the hunchbacks shouted at him from the side and hissed: "Your Highness! It's Your Highness."

Federova ignored him: "You, farmer! What are you doing here?"

"Your Highness?" Ryoden clearly didn't understand what she meant.

"Why isn't the spawn point in the city's center, where it belongs? Why is it on the edge, surrounded by burnt-out ruins? So I have to walk halfway across the city to get to your town hall. I suppose at least that's where it belongs. In the center of the city, on a market square."

"The town hall is a few hundred steps straight out. As you correctly guessed, right by the marketplace. The marketplace used to be here at the spawn point, but during the last plague, there was some fighting and a fire. After that, it was decided to build the town on the other side instead of here again."

"Plague? What do you mean?"

Ryoden hesitated. Weylan rolled his eyes behind her. Of course, the village chief would hardly explain to a revenant that any sensible local considered the revenants themselves to be the worst plague. He huffed and stepped forward to catch the revenant's attention, "I think he means the plague when Ruud the Awakener, Emperor of the Necromancers, showed up. You may remember..."

"Oh, that." She waved it off disdainfully. "That rip-off of a zombie apocalypse was by far the most uncreative world event."

Weylan and the others nodded, trying not to let on that he had no idea what she was talking about.

Fortunately, his son came running up at that moment with the village mayor. The otherwise rather leisurely, beer-bellied man slowed down, panting, and bowed deeply. Whether out of politeness or just to catch his breath was hard to tell.

"Your Highness, I am Helming, the village headman. Welcome to our humble village."

"Stand up straight. I hate talking to the back of people's heads."

The village schoolmaster hastily stood up again: "How can we serve you?"

She answered loudly and majestically so that she could be heard for miles around: "An excellent question. I am Federova the First. The first quest of a new age has emerged here. Destiny will take root here and change the world. I wish to be part of it. I will watch the new generation of heroes and, if they are worthy, grant them my favor. As an emissary of High King Magnus Cariolus, I require suitable accommodation."

"I'll have my best rooms cleared out for you."

"My entourage will arrive in a few minutes and take care of it. Just get out of their way. Clear the town hall for me and the inn for my entourage. That should be just about enough. Oh... and one more thing." She beckoned to one of her hunchbacked servants, who eagerly pulled out a scroll container, opened it and handed the village prince a document. Golden curved letters glittered in the sun, and an impressive seal with the royal coat of arms adorned the bottom edge.

Federova did not give Helming time to read it: "By order of the High King, this village and its district are subject to my unrestricted rule with immediate effect. Inform the other inhabitants of this."

The village schoolmaster stood open-mouthed as she marched past him. More servants, warriors in plate armor and mages in dazzling robes appeared at the spawn point and followed her.

Weylan looked after them, shaking his head, and went off to borrow the crossbow from the carpenter.

* * *

The revenants showed up over an hour late without apologizing. Shortly afterward, father and son marched off to the sheep pasture accompanied by the two adventurers OrcSlayer and Legolias Firelighter. Weylan had a quiver of bolts strapped to his belt and carried his crossbow across his chest. He walked behind the revenants and looked enviously at their equipment. Each piece had a matching suspension or belt. When they were out of the village, he turned to the mage, who seemed a little less scary: "Excuse me, but aren't there too few of you? In the legends, revenants always travel in large groups. Usually, five of them. A mage, two warriors, a ranger and a thief."

"Revenants? Oh, because we come back after we die." The elf laughed and then continued good-humoredly: "Nice. I like that. We're part of the beta testers... er... I mean the vanguard of adventurers. Most of the... revenants..." he couldn't suppress a chuckle "...will come later. The first quests will still be quite harmless, so even individual adventurers can pass them. There's another quest coming soon at the Border Forest, which is for a full raid-sized group, but I didn't get any more space. I'm curious to see how the world event develops. We don't know anything about the new storyline yet."

"I don't understand anything..."

"We... revenants... haven't been in this world for a long time. It has evolved since then. Further than we expected. Time passes faster here than in our world. When one day passes in my world, it's four here. What we hadn't expected, however, was the fact that time can pass even faster when none of us are present. Almost two hundred years have passed here. Empires have fallen and been founded anew. You have researched new types of magic. New dungeons have appeared, and some old ones have been destroyed. We members of the Vanguard will check that everything is still in order. Then, the others will come and start solving your problems. So you don't need to worry. We'll be leveled up enough to protect you when the World Event picks up speed." The mage paused and looked around. His pointed elven ears twitched.

"What is it?" Weylan listened and now noticed quick footsteps approaching them from behind. Shortly afterward, a young woman with dark red curls came into view. A knee-high leather dress, which he had never seen on her before, swayed with every step. She swung a thick walking stick in her hand as she walked.

Weylan immediately sprinted off and ran towards her: "Trulda? What's the matter? Has something happened in the village?"

She slowed down and came to a halt in front of him. Her breathing didn't quicken despite her hurried pace a moment ago: "You could say that. That good-for-nothing, arrogant, gold-wasting, straw-haired... Argh!" She struck the walking stick against an innocent young tree by the side of the path. "That noblewoman with the stupid name Federova the First. Not only has she taken over the town hall, but she's also taken over the entire inn and thrown everyone out to accommodate her entourage of hunchbacks, lickspittles and thugs."

"But you work there, don't you?"

"Not anymore. She put a bag of gold in the innkeeper's hand and then had him thrown out. And me right after him. She has her maids and servants."

"That's nasty. Did he at least give you some of the gold?"

"One month's salary in advance. But that's of little use to me. The village only has one inn."

The elf had strolled behind Weylan, but with his keen ears, he heard the conversation without a problem: "Why exactly are you leaving the village? Now that there are wolves around?"

"I've decided to become an adventurer, at least until I find a new job again. Somewhere far away from all this hustle and bustle."

"You just decided that..." The corners of the elf mage's mouth twitched as he tried to remain serious.

The others had now joined them. The warrior whistled indecently through his teeth: "Hello! Is it Oktoberfest here?"

While the elf put his hand to his face and rolled his eyes, the other OrcSlayers looked on uncomprehendingly. Trulda put her hands on her hips and looked at him suspiciously: "What are you talking about?"

"Your dirndl. Nice neckline, by the way. The loading area certainly helps when carrying beer mugs."

Trulda whirled her walking stick around without swinging or giving any other warning. The stick hit the warrior full on the shin. He jumped back in surprise, then hopped on one leg and held the sore spot.

"Hey, no need to get aggressive!"

"The dress belonged to that stupid noblewoman. She just threw it away. A total waste. The upper part is made of some fabric that is far too fine, and the skirt is made of suede. Thin but sturdy. Also equipped with sizing, self-cleaning and self-repairing magic."

OrcSlayer rubbed his leg but now looked up from examining his wound, "The enchantments are affordable, but not exactly cheap. That thing looks great. Why did she throw it away?"

"She discussed with a mage who arrived shortly after her. If I understood correctly, the two of them had been traveling in the capital for a few days beforehand and knew each other. He had been commissioned to enchant such a dress for her. However, it should have included a bag of holding. Everyone knows the spell from the legends. Every revenant used to have one in the stories. A container that is bigger on the inside than the outside is probably the most useful thing you can have on the road. The noble snipe had probably imagined a bag on the front or side. The magician found a different concept funnier."

Weylan looked her up and down: "I can't see any bags."

Trulda smirked and reached her hand into her cleavage. Under the confused looks of the men, her hand disappeared into a shimmering area and reappeared with a whole loaf of bread.

Legolias groaned: "A cleavage of holding. That was Sarkhold, the artifact mage, wasn't it?"

Trulda nodded: "That's how he introduced himself. Do you know him?" She grinned as she unashamedly pushed the bread back into her cleavage. The visual effect of it folding up at the last moment made Weylan feel slightly dizzy.

The elf mage was not impressed: "Years ago, in a previous life, he once sold me a singing sword for a reasonable price. I didn't sleep for nights until I also bought a sword sheath with a silence spell from him. For an absolutely extortionate price. He probably traded his bonus points for a start at a higher level. He must have, if he can make artifacts like that again. Sarkhold knows the complex artifact rules like no other, but he has a terrible sense of humor.

"In any case, the noble snipe didn't find him funny. She threw the dress out of the window and had the magician thrown into the cesspit. A complete waste. I mean the dress."

The elf magician laughed: "Cesspit! She's found the right one. He deserves it for such a stupid joke."

OrcSlayer grinned: "This noblewoman seems to be quite a scarecrow. Came in here like a locust. Would like to know how she can afford so many bot servants."

The laughter disappeared from the elf's face as he suddenly became serious: "You do know she's a perm, right?"

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"What, seriously?"

"Only Perms get titles of nobility from earls and up this time. She is a princess."

The warrior lost his usually almost omnipresent snide grin for a moment. He looked concerned: "That's right. I had forgotten."

Weylan looked from one to the other, "What are you talking about?"

The elf mage waved him off: "Not that important. Or rather, only important for people from our world."

"You're an elf, not a human."

"Not in my world, we..." He broke off and turned his head jerkily towards the edge of the forest. His pointed ears twitched, listening. When Weylan wanted to ask something, he raised a finger warningly. The warrior immediately reached for the shield he was carrying on his back and fastened it to his arm.

"Eyes of the quest!" Legolias spoke the formula and made an energetic gesture. Dark sparks shot out of his hand and grew into fist-sized orbs in a heartbeat. Floating eyes stared lidless ahead, now floating away into the forest. Some close to the ground, others at treetop level.

Black spots danced across the elf mage's eyes as he struggled to mentally process the sensory impressions from a dozen angles. Then his eyes widened: "Wolves! There's a whole pack lurking in the undergrowth at the edge of the forest!" He pushed Weylan behind him and raised his mage staff threateningly towards the edge of the forest. A loud howl from many throats tore the air, and wolves charged towards them on a broad front. The small group only had a few breaths to prepare.

OrcSlayer unsheathed his sword and stood in a wide-legged fighting stance. Ryoden took a step back so that he stood behind the two revenants with his son and Trulda, holding his shepherd's staff in front of him with both hands in a defensive stance.

Trulda gripped the walking staff with both hands at one end and waited for an opponent to come within range.

Weylan hastily put the cocking lever on the crossbow he had been awkwardly carrying in his arm and tried to cock it. As he did not engage the lever properly, it slipped out and scratched the crossbow stock. Cursing, he tried again. He put all his weight on the lever and managed to tighten the string and snap it into place. He fetched a bolt from a hip quiver and inserted it. As he raised the crossbow, OrcSlayer struck the first wolf with a sweeping blow. The wolf ducked under the blow and leaped past the warrior straight towards Weylan. Weylan's gaze was drawn to the ever-growing teeth. Then the wolf jumped off.

The shepherd's son raised his crossbow and pulled the trigger in panic. The bolt shot away, but the hairy gray body continued to fly towards him unflinchingly. Then it hit him in the chest and knocked him over. Weylan closed his eyes to avoid seeing the teeth that were about to rip his throat open. When he was still alive after three breaths, he opened his eyes again and looked directly into the wolf's fixed and lifeless pupils. The crossbow bolt protruded from the wolf's forehead like the horn of a mad unicorn.

Opponent defeated: Wolf (common): 20 XP

Skill learned: Crossbow (Apprentice I)

Weylan stared in disbelief at the message from the world voice. He had never received experience points before. Now he was already a fifth of the way to his first level up. And he hadn't even chosen a character class yet. What would happen if he leveled up before he had decided? Would the World Voice select a class for him? Or would ascension simply be paused until he was 17 and could choose his class? No matter what else would happen, at least he would finally learn some combat skills. If he were halfway talented at using them, he would start at apprentice level instead of starting as a layman without a master.

A loud wolf howl drew his attention back to the still-raging battle.

OrcSlayer dodged the next wolf and stabbed the blade straight into its spine. He paid no attention to the wolf falling lifelessly to the ground behind him and whirled his sword around to deliver a deep cut to the next attacker. Another wolf ducked under the blow and snatched at his leg. The warrior skillfully shifted his weight and kicked the wolf full in the snout with his heavy leather boot. The wolf jumped back a few steps, yelping.

Legolias still held his open hand in front towards some more wolves: "Firebolt!"

A glowing red bullet shot out of his palm at a wolf. It tore a crater in the flesh, then the wolf's entire fur burst into flames. The wolf went down with a strangled howl.

"Firebolt!"

The next wolf ducked under the projectile and then jumped forward just above the ground.

OrcSlayer was attacked by three wolves at once and was now in real trouble. He fended off one bite by holding his sword across the path. The wolf bit into the blade and stubbornly held on even though the blade cut deep into his sensitive cheeks. He fended off a second wolf with a kick. He only avoided the third wolf's throat bite with a daring evasive maneuver, stubbornly keeping his sword in his hand, along with the wolf hanging from it. The warrior cursed: "Plague and lag! That's far too many wolves for a beginner's quest! The quest system is completely buggered! I'll file a complaint!"

The elven mage conjured a firebolt but was already showing clear signs of tension. His breathing became faster, his skin pale and dark circles formed under his eyes. All signs that his mana was quickly running out. "That's not a bug. That's just two wolves per adventurer. The system counts the two NPCs as heroes. Just not our Questgiver."

OrcSlayer cursed as the firebolt passed close to his face after a lunge. When he noticed the wolf that the fireball drove back and prevented from jumping at him from the side, he was somewhat reconciled.

Weylan followed the conversation with only half his attention as he drew his crossbow again. Five of the original eight wolves were still alive, one of them wounded. Three were circling the warrior; the other two were trying to get to the remaining adventurers. He hissed at the mage: "Why did you stop casting spells? You can take a break later!"

"I'm almost out of mana. I can save twenty percent of the cost of every spell with the magic staff, but even that won't last forever. I can barely cast one more firebolt, and then I'm out. My skills are completely focused on magic. I don't stand a chance in close combat." He chased away a wolf with his staff and hissed at the warrior: "OrcSlayer! Stop playing and kill the creatures already!"

"I'd love to, but they keep dodging. As long as there are three of them, they have bonuses to attack and dodge. I can't handle that at level 1." He ducked under a leap aimed at his throat and held the shield above him to keep the claws away from his face. Another wolf took advantage of the distraction to bite his boot from behind. The leather prevented him from ripping out the tendon, but the teeth still dug into the flesh.

Weylan took advantage of a moment in which the wolves retreated to draw his crossbow again. He put another bolt in. He did not notice the wolf, which turned around in a flash and ran towards him. The elf mage fired a firebolt at the other wolf but missed. As the wolf was about to pounce on Weylan, Trulda rushed forward and thundered her walking stick at his head with both hands. The mighty leap turned into an unsteady hop. He hissed at Trulda and turned to face his attacker.

Weylan raised the crossbow, aimed at the wolf's side from just three paces away and fired. The wolf had just started to move so that the bolt hit its stomach instead of its chest. Howling wildly, the wolf flinched and made a move to flee. However, he had made the mistake of taking his eyes off Trulda. The walking stick hit him again on the skull. This time, the skull bone broke with a wet crack. The wolf twitched once more, then toppled over to one side.

Another message appeared in front of Weylan:

Opponent defeated: Wolf (common): 10 XP (assisted)

Skill increased: Crossbow (Apprentice II)

Trulda stared ahead of her for a moment. Weylan assumed that she had also received a message.

The elven mage was pale and swayed slightly as he leaned heavily on his staff. Ryoden placed a stone in the leather loop of his staff sling, whirled it around and gave a wolf a good hit in the side. The elf looked up, startled: "No! Stop that! If you attack, the system will count you... Too late."

Wolf howls sounded from the forest, and two more wolves were charging out of the undergrowth. Weylan didn't take his eyes off the wolves as he spoke: "Well, Pop, it's not so easy to stand idly by until a problem takes care of itself."

Ryoden growled wordlessly and continued to fire at the wolves around OrcSlayer.

Weylan and Trulda were briefly distracted by the appearance of other enemies, which the wolf took advantage of to pounce on the mage. He managed to hold his staff so that the teeth closed around the staff and not his throat. He fell backward to the ground, groaning under the weight. The mage braced himself desperately with both hands against the staff, which the wolf held clutched between its hands in its mouth. Saliva sprayed into his face as the wolf tried to bite through the staff and get at the tempting flesh of his throat. Its paws slashed the mage's robe in the process. The damage from the short claws was minor but would soon add up.

Weylan bent down and dropped the crossbow to the ground from a small height, then drew his dagger and rushed to help the mage.

Ryoden managed to hit one of the two new wolves with the sling before they could get close. He looked a little dizzy from the hit to the head but kept running. Trulda stood next to him to receive the two newcomers with her walking staff.

Weylan plunged his dagger straight into the wolf's side, where he suspected the heart was. The wolf was entirely focused on the mage and didn't even see him coming. The dagger pierced through the fur. Weylan felt the blade catch briefly on a rib, but then it slipped past and dug deep into the intestines.

Critical hit! Damage x2

Sneak attack! Damage x2

Opponent defeated: Wolf (common): 20 XP

Skill learned: Knife fighting (Apprentice I)

Skill learned: Sneak attack (Apprentice I)

Weylan pulled out the dagger, wiped the blood off the fur, and looked around. The mage struggled to push himself out from under the dead wolf, but it didn't look like he would be able to contribute much to the fight. The warrior was still busy and already had several bloody scratches. His three opponents had also each taken a hit but were all still able to fight. Weylan's father and the alewife whirled around with shepherd's crook and walking staff, keeping their two attackers at a distance with difficulty. He immediately felt the urge to assist his father, but he found it more effective to free the warrior from his stalemate. Undisturbed by enemies for the moment, Weylan put the dagger back in his belt sheath and hurriedly drew his crossbow. Then he moved closer to the warrior whirling around blade and shield. When he was within a few steps and raised the crossbow, one of the wolves noticed him and started to pounce on him. Weylan didn't trust himself to hit another wolf that jumped at him. The last time had been pure luck. Instead, he aimed at a wolf that was slowly creeping around OrcSlayer, looking for a gap in its cover. The bolt hit him full in the side. Howling, the wolf turned and fled. With only one opponent left, the warrior immediately went on the offensive.

The shepherd's son threw the crossbow to the side, pulled out the dagger and roared a wordless battle cry at the wolf. The wolf ducked under the clumsy dagger blow and bit at the unprotected leg of the shepherd boy. Weylan dodged with a less martial and much higher-pitched cry. He thrust wildly with the dagger at the passing wolf but only scraped the thick fur. The wolf wheeled around and snatched at his hand. Weylan jerked his hand back and immediately thrust back again. The blade sank into the wolf's eye with a sickening smacking sound. The mouth opened into a howl, but only a pitiful gasp sounded before the wolf sank to the ground.

Critical hit! Damage x2

Opponent defeated: Wolf (common): 20 XP

Skill increased: Knife fighting (Apprentice II)

Weylan stared at his blade. It was as if his hand had almost moved on its own when he stabbed. Was that what it meant to use a skill? And he had received the full experience points, even though the wolf was already wounded. Did damage from finished duels no longer count? And practically just heartbeats later?

With difficulty, he pulled himself together again and pulled his sling out of his pocket. The crossbow simply took too long. He put in a stone, twirled the sling briefly over his head and then shot at one of the two wolves that were leaping around his father and Trulda. The wolf gave a short yelp as it was hit on the hip but was otherwise not distracted. Weylan put in another stone when he was shoved aside. OrcSlayer had finished off the last wolf and was now running towards the last two wolves. Weylan stuffed the sling into his pocket and hurried to the crossbow. While he was still loading it, the tide turned. The mage stayed away from the fight, but the other three now circled the wolves. By the time they realized in their bloodlust that they were at a disadvantage, it was too late. OrcSlayer decapitated one with a brutal blow. The other tried to bite him in the arm but took a shield to the face. While he was still dazed, Trulda bludgeoned him to the ground. This was closely followed by a blow from Ryoden's shepherd's crook.

Weylan looked around carefully. There were no wolves to be seen anywhere. But where was the injured wolf that had fled earlier...

He narrowed his eyes. At the edge of the forest, in a thick bush, he had seen a slight glint. Wolf eyes in the shadows. He got to his knees, raised the crossbow and took careful aim. Then he pulled the trigger. The bolt whizzed through the air and disappeared into the bushes.

Lucky hit! Maximum damage!

Opponent defeated: Wolf (common): 20 XP

Skill increased: Crossbow (Apprentice III)

The warrior looked up in surprise: "Hey, I just got another XP for an assist. Did you just get another one, or did he bleed to death?"

Weylan raised his hand: "I killed another one in the forest."

The warrior just nodded. Then, he made sure that his companion was all right.

"I'm out of breath and haven't even regenerated enough mana to cast a level 1 spell. Let's go back to the village. I'm no good for anything today."

"Man, I hate the regeneration rate of novices. They should actually take a few of you with them. Then you could just throw the empty ones in the bushes."

"Thank you. I like you too." The mage crossed his arms in front of his chest and turned away.

"Is anyone hurt?" Trulda ignored the banter and examined everyone for wounds. The warrior demonstratively last. The group spent a while bandaging all the wounds, then made their way back.

The warrior looked dissatisfied: "I almost died on the first day, and I hardly collected any XP for it. 10 XP per wolf is a cheek." Legolias nodded in agreement, but Weylan looked at the warrior in amazement: "When I killed them on my own, I always got 20 XP."

The warrior waved it off: "I don't care what NPCs get."

The elven mage beckoned Weylan to fall back a little with him and let the warrior march ahead. Then he gave him a friendly smile: "You don't have a character class yet, do you?"

"No."

"That's what I thought. Then, you get the full 100% bonus for superior opponents. Normally, that's 20% per level of the opponent above yours. It is normally capped at max. 100% bonus. Without character, class, and skills, you are, of course, at a much greater disadvantage. Did you also get some skills?"

"Yes, and even increased a few times. Is it always that quick?"

"At the beginning, yes. Skills only increase if the application is a challenge for your current abilities and is still successful. In the beginning, this applies to practically everything. The increase goes from layman to apprentice, journeyman, master, grandmaster and legendary. You need ten increases to advance to the next level. To increase your skill as a Grand Master, you have to kill individual fireflies at night with your crossbow. While a hydra is attacking you."

"Then why did I get knife fighting right away on Apprentice?"

The mage raised an eyebrow: "You started as an apprentice instead of a layman? That usually only happens with the skills you get for your chosen character class. Either you have an innate talent, or the system thinks you've already shown talent at apprentice level. That used to be pretty damn rare, even with SCs. Then, consider taking a fighter class that's skill-based. Thief, swordsman or mana adept. Supposedly, there are also a few secret character classes this time that you can only get if you fulfill the prerequisites."

"Just like you can only become a hunter if you have already hunted an animal without help?"

"Hunter? I didn't even have that to choose from when I created the character. Wow. Hey OrcSlayer! Shepherd boy seems to know at least one of the secret character classes!"

"I don't care. I remain a warrior, as always."

Weylan looked at him in confusion: "But there are lots of versions of that in the legends."

"What?"

"Well, for example, temple warriors, two-handed wielders, hammerers, knights, paladins or bulwarks."

"What the lag is a bulwark?"

"They wear insanely heavy armor. Shifting mountains of steel that hold castle gates and bridges against superior forces in the legends."

Orcslayer waved his hand unimpressed: "Tanks. Take a lot, but don't dish out much. There's a choice of paladins. They're annoying because you have to adhere super strictly to all the rules of chivalry. You can't even intimidate or beat up a merchant if he demands unreasonable prices. Speaking of prices..." He pointed his finger at Ryoden so that it was close to the tip of his nose: "We haven't gotten the reward for the quest yet."

Ryoden stopped, startled, but quickly regained his composure: "What? Right." He detached his pouch from his belt and reached in to take out the monetary part of the reward. Apart from a few copper coins, however, he found nothing in it. "What the..." He fell silent and then started again: "I'm sorry. It's my first time doing this." He cleared his throat and then formally announced, "You have passed your quest. Now receive your reward."

The two adventurers looked down and waited, then looked impatiently at Ryoden as he continued to search in vain for silver coins in his pouch.

Weylan frowned thoughtfully for a moment, then grinned: "I think you've forgotten the wording of the quest. Wasn't there something about wolf ears?"

Legolias clapped his hand over his face. Then he turned around without a word and walked back, followed by the rest of the group. Half an hour later, they had pulled all the wolves into a heap. OrcSlayer stood in front of Ryoden and pointed with his thumb: "Should we still cut off the ears, or does that count?" His question was answered by a message from the voice of the world.

Quest: Herd the flock successfully completed.

Success rate: 10 out of 5 required wolves killed.

Reward: 100 XP, divided by 5 participants.

Weylan also saw his own gain in experience points increase by 20 points.

Ryoden reached into his pouch and counted out ten silver coins. OrcSlayer practically snatched them out of his hand. "100 XP divided by five. What do NPCs need experience points for anyway? What a rip-off."

He beckoned Legolias to him: "Come on, let's do it again. This time we'll go alone. The minimum number of opponents is five. You just keep two wolves off my back and kill one with magic. Then I'll kill one more before they can really encircle me, and that'll be it for the wolves."

Ryoden shook his head: "I can only give the quest once a day."

OrcSlayer grabbed him by the collar, which the shepherd allowed, intimidated by the warrior's anger: "Once a day? What are we going to do for the rest of the day? There's nothing to do here in this filthy village in the middle of the wilderness!"

Legolias tried to reassure him: "I'm sure there are still a few hidden social quests. Let's explore the village in peace and then log off for today."

The warrior took a step back from Ryoden and drew his sword in a flash. Before the surprised shepherd could react, he stepped forward in a lunge and plunged the blade into his heart. Unhindered by any armor, the blade protruded a hand's breadth from his back. OrcSlayer turned the sword to enlarge the wound and then pulled it out with a swing. He whirled the blade around. Drops of blood broke loose, and one hit Weylan's cheek. A gush of blood came out of Ryoden's mouth before he collapsed like a doll whose strings had been cut.

Sneak attack: Damage x2

Critical hit: Damage x2

Ryoden dies.

Questgiver status inherited by heir. New Questgiver: Weylan

Weylan stared at the body uncomprehendingly. Only unconsciously did his hand feel for the warm moisture on his cheek. This couldn't have happened. It had to be a mistake!

OrcSlayer now grabbed him by the collar with his left hand while holding the blade to his neck with his right: "So, you will now give the quest to Legolias and me. Then you NPCs sneak back to the village until we're done."

Legolias looked at him, stunned. His staff fell from his hands as he bent down to check on the fallen shepherd: "OrcSlayer! What have you done!"

The warrior spat past Weylan on the ground: "Pah. A new Questgiver can assign the quest again. If the old one respawns tomorrow, I apologize."

"This is a full simulation RPG server, you idiot! It doesn't respawn! You just killed a sentient AI personality!"

The warrior shrugged his shoulders: "Never mind. There's still enough of that around here."

The menu for assigning quests appeared in front of Weylan. While everything else was clouded by the tears in his eyes and the world around him became blurred, the menu remained clearly legible.

He concentrated on it and changed the settings without even having to think about it. In an emotionless voice, he began to speak: "I have a mission for any hero who wishes to accept it." A glowing exclamation mark appeared on his forehead, bathing his face in an eerie light.

OrcSlayer let go of him, sheathed the sword and pumped his hand in the air: "Yeah! I knew that would work."

Weylan blinked the tears from his eyes and continued: "Avenge the murder of the shepherd Ryoden."

Blood for blood: Avenge the unprovoked murder of the shepherd Ryoden.

Quest objective: Kill OrcSlayer or hand him over to the relevant authorities

Reward: 50 XP and five gold pieces for each participant

Except in front of the stunned warrior, a message appeared in front of everyone present with the choice to accept or decline the quest. Weylan accepted it and was informed that Trulda had done the same. Legolias refused and looked wide-eyed at the messages that appeared before him: "What? You can't accept your own quest!"

The warrior looked from one to the other in confusion: "What are you talking about? This isn't the quest I wanted. I didn't get a quest message either. Don't talk nonsense; just give me the wolf hunt quest again."

Weylan didn't even look at him: "Wolves are attacking the village's flock of sheep. Kill at least five of the wolves to earn a reward."

"Sure, I'll do it!"

Quest: Protect the herd accepted

Weylan calmly took the crossbow from his back, cocked it and inserted a bolt.

Meanwhile, OrcSlayer checked his wounds, grumbled something about the far too slow regeneration and stomped off again in the direction of the flock of sheep. "Come on Legolias, we only have a few hours of daylight left."

"Wait! Haven't you been paying attention? The boy just called out a quest on you."

The warrior waved him off. "That makes no sense at all. There are no quests against players. That was just a stupid line."

"No, really! There was..." Before Legolias could continue, they both heard quick footsteps approaching from behind.

"And he's already coming after me to apologize. Well, I'll forgive him this once." OrcSlayer stopped and put on a condescending smile. A facial expression he always used when he praised his neighbor's stupid dog for a trick. At least as long as his mother was around and insisted on being nice.

Weylan had stopped as soon as the warrior started to turn around. As he faced him, the warrior looked at the crossbow he had drawn from a few steps away. It clicked, and the bolt flew straight into his unprotected neck. On the way out, it hit his spine, which shattered with a crack.

Sneak attack: Damage x2

Critical hit: Damage x2

Skill increased: Crossbow (Apprentice IV)

Crippling attack: OrcSlayer is incapacitated. Magical healing is required.

Weylan pushed the crossbow into Trulda's hand and drew his dagger. The elven mage raised his hands defensively and took a step away from his companion lying on the ground: "Leave me out of this. He brought this on himself."

Weylan nodded to the elf and walked to the ground next to the motionless warrior. OrcSlayer's eyes followed him, but although his breathing quickened, he could not utter a word.

"I could do all sorts of things to you now. But that won't bring my father back either. I just want to tell you one thing..." He fell silent as the warrior's eyes broke and became lifeless. Then the body in the armor dissolved, sparkling. What remained was a collapsing suit of chain mail, clothing and weapons.

OrcSlayer defeated (fighter, level 3): 60 XP

Logout in battle. Maximum amount of loot unlocked.

Legolias looked on impassively: "He has logged out. He dies automatically in the middle of the fight. You can loot the equipment if you want. He'll hunt you down anyway. It won't make any difference. OrcSlayer is damn vindictive. You should make sure you get away. He can't respawn for the next 24 hours, which gives you a head start. Use it. He was about to walk away when he saw Weylan lift the chainmail and reveal more items underneath. A gold pouch and a vial engraved with a glowing symbol.

The elf whistled through his teeth, "The bastard didn't even mention that he bought a restorative elixir. Must have been afraid I'd expect him to use it on me in an emergency." He was about to turn away again when Weylan stopped him: "Wait! What does the potion do? Can it heal my father?"

"A restorative elixir heals all wounds, diseases, poisons and status effects. Your father is dead. As soon as the body disappears, it's over."

"My father is not a revenant! His body won't just dissolve into light and respawn! I'll try." He rushed over to the corpse and knelt on the ground next to him. The elf rolled his eyes, "Cut the nonsense! He's dead. It's tragic, but it can't be helped. Don't waste the potion! The elixir requires an alchemist with level 20 and alchemy at legendary skill level. Plus, there are several insanely rare and expensive ingredients. Even if you get ripped off like all the NPCs in town, you can buy your entire village with it. OrcSlayer has traded the equivalent of a dragon hoard from his previous life for this. Everything he didn't invest in crystals or the rest of his equipment. I was wondering why he didn't at least buy a small enchantment for his sword."

Weylan looked indecisively at the inconspicuous vial in his hand. The elf continued: "If you waste this on a doomed attempt, you'll lose a fortune. This is your chance to finance a better life. Far away from here."

"Has anyone ever used it on a non-revenant?"

"Wasting a restoration potion on an NPC? I'd have to read up on the forums, but I'll bet my ears no one has ever tried that."

Trulda looked from one to the other. Then her eyes lost focus, as if she was looking at her status.

Weylan lifted his father's head and opened his mouth: "If I don't at least try, I'll spend the rest of my life wondering if it might have worked. Maybe it will!"

Legolias opened his mouth and then closed it again. He nodded thoughtfully. Then he watched as Weylan flicked away the wax seal with his thumbnail and pulled out the cork. As air reached it, the liquid began to glow silver. A fresh smell became perceptible all around. Like fresh mountain air blowing across a summer meadow. Without further hesitation, Weylan emptied the liquid into his father's mouth. First it ran down his throat, then it pooled without a swallowing reflex, filling his mouth and drooling down the sides to drip into the grass.

Legolias shook his head sadly and set off for good. After a few steps, he fell into a long run. The two looked after him. Trulda was the first to break the silence: "We should bury your father."

A soft, wet cough made them both flinch in fright. Weylan looked down to where he still held his father's head. Silver light shone from Ryoden's eyes, glowing liquid sprayed from his mouth, then the remaining elixir vanished as Ryoden's throat resumed its function and he swallowed. Silver light erupted from the chest and back of the wound, then the flesh closed smacking. A silver wave traveled through the body from the heart. Scratches and bruises disappeared.

There was silence for a moment, then Ryoden threw up his hands defensively: "Don't! I didn't give you anything..." He looked around in confusion: "For a moment, I thought that crazy revenant had attacked me."

Weylan pushed his father down into a tight hug. He waved his arms around, looking for balance, but then returned the hug somewhat indecisively.

"It's all right. It's okay... What happened?"

"How do you feel?"

"Excellent." The shepherd straightened up and stretched. His eyes fell on the blood-stained hole in his shirt. He stuck a finger through it and wiggled it. Then he pulled the shirt up and felt over the flawless skin under the hole.

"Son, I think you should explain to me now what I've missed."

After a lengthy explanation, the shepherd stood somewhat lost between his son and Trulda. "Well, I guess there's not much left for us. I'll fake my death for a few weeks and live in the summer hut by hunting and fishing. You will report back to the village what this revenant has done. He's dangerous as hell. Who knows what else he'll do. Then find someone to look after our herd and make sure you get away."

Weylan looked at him with a lost expression: "But... where should I go?"

Trulda put her arm on his shoulders: "We should go to the village first and sell this revenant's equipment. Get new equipment and then leave, preferably to Mulnirsheim. Strangers immediately attract attention in the villages, and in the town, we have a chance to go underground. It's best to leave a letter asking the other villagers to look after the sheep while you're away."

His father looked at her in surprise: "Have you ever been to the city?"

"No. But I grew up with the wandering people. We met a lot of travelers from the city along the way."

Ryoden nodded: "Then that's the best solution. You tell everyone that I was murdered. It's not a lie, after all. Since your mother died, I've had little contact with the other villagers. Most of the time, we're out with the herd. So it won't hit anyone too hard. You two get going as quickly as possible. Sell as much of the equipment as you can, and don't forget... Well, you're old enough. You know what you need to take with you."

Weylan looked down at the pile of chainmail and other equipment. "Isn't that stealing?"

The shepherd hugged him wordlessly. Pride resonated in his voice: "I guess I didn't do everything wrong in your upbringing after all. But this time, it's all right. Anyone who defeats an opponent is entitled to the spoils. That's not stealing, it's your right."

Weylan nodded somewhat reluctantly and then began to pack the warrior's equipment into a compact package.

The three of them piled up a man-sized area of earth and stuck Ryoden's shepherd's crook firmly into the ground at the end so that it was clearly visible.

"Seeing your own grave is a bit... weird. Promise me you'll try harder if I'm really in there."

Weylan swallowed hard and just nodded. Trulda put her hand on his shoulder: "We have to get going."

He hugged his father goodbye once more, took the bundle of loot on his shoulder and stomped off.