The spawn point lit up, and OrcSlayer the Mighty appeared. He stretched, stroked his hand through his orange hair and looked down at himself. Whereas yesterday, he had been wearing tailored chainmail, but he was now only wearing padded undergarments. His hand unconsciously reached angrily for the hilt of his sword but groped in vain. All he found in his belt was a sheath with a dagger. He grabbed it and flung it carelessly aside with a wordless cry.

Some of the locals, who had almost gotten used to the constant appearance and disappearance of revenants, now looked up. When he jumped off the spawnpoint, they gave him a wide berth and kept a suspicious eye on him. There was activity everywhere he looked. Woodcutters hauling logs with horses, craftsmen renewing the palisade and foundations for watchtowers were being dug at the four corners of the village. A dozen or so of Federova, the First's hunchbacked servants, could be seen everywhere. They negotiated with craftsmen, supervised construction work and lent a hand at every turn. A group of five men in leather armor wandered out of the inn towards the forest. Each carried a short sword on his belt and a longbow and quiver on his back. The bows were already strung, which told him that they were magical weapons. Regular bows quickly lost their tension when handled like this. So they were probably adventurers, but he couldn't be sure. The system gave no indication of who was an NPC and who was a player.

OrcSlayer marched quickly towards the center of the village. On the way, he approached a man dressed in cheap peasant clothes and asked, "Where is the nearest temple of Peituwin?"

"Lord... forgive me, but we only have one house with shrines for all the gods."

The warrior leaned closer to the man: "And where is it?"

"Over there, sir, just go along that cross street on the left. You can't miss it."

Without a word of thanks, the warrior followed the directions to a one-story building. The walls of the half-timbered house rose unadorned but clean. Head-sized signs with the symbols of the gods were attached to an arch around the door. He searched and quickly found the symbol he was looking for. It was a golden snake that wound its way across two parallel magician's wands to form an S-shape. He threw open the door and stomped inside, the dust of the street still on his feet. The building consisted of a single elongated room, its sides divided into individual open alcoves by planked walls. Each contained a small altar with the symbol of one of the gods. An archway made of black steel, Nistrul's portal to the underworld. The bronze hearth fire of Lieselotte, the goddess of house and home. The silver shield of Pallandur, the god of quests. OrcSlayer hesitated briefly at a broken altar on which stood a charred bonsai tree. He couldn’t recall which gods symbol this had been. And why was the altar broken? The storylines he’d heard didn’t mention a fallen god. He would ask at the forum when he returned to the boring world. Further back, he found the symbol he had been looking for.

An elderly man, who had been diligently mopping the floor in front of Golgoroth's altar at the far end, glanced up and hastened over to him. "Welcome, stranger! Welcome to the shrine of all..." OrcSlayer brushed him aside without a second thought and strode purposefully toward his destination. Before him stood the gilded statue of a man holding an open chest adorned with the snake and two staves symbol on its lid. He knelt on one knee: "Peituwin, god of trade, accept my offering," he intoned solemnly.

Out of nowhere, translucent greenish rectangles of paper appeared above his open hands, which disappeared into the statue's chest in a whirling storm as if drawn by an invisible force. The statue of the god slowly began to glow from within until the god's eyes opened. The voice rang out from all directions: "Your sacrifice is pleasing to me. What do you want?"

"I need a well-crafted sword and good quality custom-made chain mail."

A sword appeared in a golden glow on the ground. Closely followed by a bundle of metal rings. "Is that all, adventurer? You could have gotten that at any store."

The warrior waved his hand dismissively: "Nah. They don't take real money and I'm so not in the mood to spend days hunting rats or wolves or something to earn gold on beginner quests. Now I'm going to kill that useless shepherd's son, and then I'm going to look for some real quests. I really need to level up to be ready when the beta phase ends. I only got in during the second phase, anyway. I don't want to get lost in the crowd when hundreds of thousands of noobs show up here."

He pushed himself up and then put on the chain mail on the spot. He then girded on the sword and marched out through the door.

With one foot still in the doorway, he braked; otherwise, he would have run straight into the tip of a pitchfork. The piece of metal glinting in the rising sun was only a finger's breadth from his eye, which now began to twitch nervously.

A small crowd had gathered in front of the shrine. They were all big, burly men who were used to working hard. In their hands, they held pitchforks, hammers, axes, and even an old sword. On the blade, you could clearly see that most of the rust had only recently been removed. The man with the sword began to speak in a loud voice: "Stop! Are you the revenant who killed Ryoden?"

"Ryoden? Was that the shepherd Questgiver?"

Angry shouts were raised but were quickly drowned out by the leader: "Quiet!"

Then he turned to OrcSlayer again: "You're under arrest! The charge is murder. Put your sword on the ground and come with me."

"Are you tired of life? I can handle a bunch of NPC peasants on my own. Get that thing out of my sight before I slice your belly open."

The man actually took a step back, but that only allowed more men to better aim their weapons at him: "I doubt it. In fact, I highly doubt it. I am Hoder, the innkeeper. We will now take you to the High Princess, who has assumed rule and jurisdiction here in the village in the name of High King Cariolus. Come along peacefully, or you will be dead!"

OrcSlayer lowered his gaze thoughtfully, then, without warning, he grabbed one of the pitchforks with his left hand to pull it aside. With his right hand, he drew the sword and swung it towards the innkeeper's stomach, protected only by a cloth apron and shirt. Hoder waved his sword around, startled, and by pure chance, managed to sweep the blade aside. He had no idea how to handle it, but a lifetime of hard work had given him a firm grip and strong muscles. Without the proper technique, however, he could not bind his attacker's blade, so it whirled deftly around his sword, ready to strike again a heartbeat later. The warrior bellowed a war cry, causing the citizens to recoil for a moment. Hoder whirled his sword aimlessly, hoping to drive the warrior back. His opponent's sword moved faster than he could keep track of. Now, it was on the other side of his blade, driving the sword further to the side. The host's body was now defenseless, and the warrior was already tensing his muscles to slash his belly when he suddenly froze.

The innkeeper stared at the trembling sword for three heartbeats, then lifted his gaze to the revenant's face. A wooden shaft with a glittering metal tip protruded from the right eye. The warrior toppled forward and hit his face on the ground unchecked. Stunned, he searched for the source of the arrow and found the hunter standing at the window of the house next to the Dronwil temple. The hunting bow still in his hand.

"Dronwil! How did you get up there so quickly?"

"I live here, you old drunkard! Next time you want to attack an adventurer, you'd better get me first. If I hadn't just had the bow strung so I could wax the string better, we'd all be looking at your lunch right now. That's not a pretty sight, even on a plate. At least when your wife has cooked."

The innkeeper looked at the clang on the ground where his sword had fallen from his fingers. Every muscle began to tremble as he realized how close he had just come to death. The warrior's body shimmered and disappeared in front of him. All that remained was a sword and chain mail.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

* * *

OrcSlayer only felt a blow to the back of his head before his security settings switched off the sensation of pain. He could no longer see anything with his right eye, his left saw a sharp piece of metal pointing away from his face. He could no longer feel his body, and his surroundings whirled around until he could only see the cobblestones up close.

Headshot/ Critical hit/ Sneak attack

Instant Death

The world disappeared in front of him and he found himself in an empty white room. Monitors with his character sheet, inventory and other status information floated in front of him. Another screen only contained the hint:

Earliest respawn in 23 hours, 59 minutes game time.

He tapped the screen to select the spawn point in the village marketplace, but the menu box only flashed briefly and then turned completely gray and inactive.

You have been defeated during a proper arrest. Spawnpoint is forcibly set to the local prison.

A different spawn point can only be chosen after the court proceedings have been completed and with the permission of the local ruler.

"Shit!" He punched the virtual screen, but it did nothing. Kicking it several times didn't improve his mood either. "Video link to Legolias."

The screen briefly went black and then began to flash slowly. After a while, the image of the elf mage appeared: "What do you want?"

"That's a really unfriendly greeting! We're best buddies!"

"You're an ass. I wanted to establish good relations with the locals in the village. This would have been the perfect starting point for quests behind the battle lines. The beta testers were virtually fighting over the few spots for the spawn point on the forums. Do you know how many favors I had to call in to get them?"

"I know... I'm sorry. I overreacted."

"You always do that! I'm sick of it. You know what, you should join an organization that suits you better. Something like an Order of Baby Seal Killers, the Club of Murder Hobos or the Nasty Magic Mutants. Or like in the last campaign, the Necromancers."

OrcSlayer looked offended: "That was just to infiltrate them."

"Then they started losing and you betrayed them."

"That has always been my plan!"

"Yeah, sure. You know what, I saw an ad on the forums for a guild that's looking for members. The guild leader wants to do some huge in-game thing. Here's the link." An icon appeared on the screen and then dropped to the bottom.

"Take care. No hard feelings."

"Why? What do you mean..." OrcSlayer saw the blocked symbol next to Legolias's name. "Never mind. I never liked that annoying pointy ear anyway. Open the link there."

An impressive animation of a skull appeared on the screen, rising like the sun over a burning planet. It was followed by an appeal in flowery language to all brave but unconservative heroes to join the Order and vague offers of rewards. He shrugged his shoulders and chose the link.

Almost immediately, a grinning skull appeared: "Hi. Welcome to the League of Evil. We have cookies."

"I thought this was the Order of the Ascension of Nistrul?"

The skull managed to shrug: "That too. My marketing department thought it sounded more appealing to players."

"I hear you're still looking for members for your guild?"

"That's what we're doing. Send me your résumé."

"My what?"

"CV of previous characters, list of completed quests, awards and letters of recommendation."

"I was in VR from the very first beta. I first had a Warrior, then after the empowerment upgrade, I switched to Paladin and leveled him up to max level. During the final phase, I switched to Fallen Paladin and joined the Necromancers. On quests..."

The skull blinked and interrupted him, "Rolf?"

"You know me?"

"Rolf Ganderer! Or rather, LichtBringer, the fallen paladin. The traitor who lured the main army of necromancers into the ambush at Thorn Pass!"

Rolf cursed. Only a few hundred players had sided with the necromancers in the last campaign. Of those, only a handful knew who had betrayed them. He had deliberately refrained from bragging about it. Even if it had been difficult for him. Of the few players who knew about his betrayal, only one knew his real name. The boy who had accepted him into the guild back then.

"Sepp Krüger, is that you?"

The skull laughed. A laugh that echoed through the room and vibrated deep in the pit of his stomach. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. He was so fucked. Sepp would chase him through the whole game and then send a few thugs to beat him up in real life. Or he would buy his company and fire him. Buy his apartment block and have it torn down. He had heard about Sepp. Only after the campaign. Only when it was too late. He would end up unemployed on the street. OrcSlayer slumped to the ground and let his face fall into his hands.

"Rolf? Are you ok?"

"I'm screwed." He looked up, "Will it help if I apologize?"

The skull tilted a little and the eyeholes contracted a little: "Why should you apologize?"

"You were the leader of the necromancers. I..."

"Oh... I'm not angry. You did me a real favor."

"Why is that? I messed up all your plans for the invasion of the Alliance lands!"

"The lich necromancers had already ruined all my fun before that. It's a long story. Short version: The liches planned to turn their human allies into undead as soon as they had gathered enough magical energy. They would have gained this by sacrificing thousands of enemies after the final battle. If we had successfully taken the army beyond the mountains, I would have either had to flee, or my character would have been forcibly turned into a stinking undead mass. If I had become a lich, ok. That would have been cool. But as a zombie necromancer under the rule of the liches? Forget it. I could only slightly sabotage the invasion without attracting attention. The liches were damn clever. Intelligence 20+. Then I had recruited a lot of outstanding generals. Half of them had a real army background. Our chief strategist was a retired Bundeswehr general."

"Seriously?"

The skull grinned proudly. "When I realized that the supposedly safe detour via the Thorn Pass was absolute madness, I could have cried with joy. I let our strategists discuss other plans for hours and then, completely exhausted, I confronted them with your reconnaissance report. With the alleged ambush on the originally planned route. My favorite part was the warning about the invisible dragon at the ford. I was even able to persuade our generals not to send out scouts beforehand so that no one could spot the scouts. Not that our enemies would be warned that way. So we marched in blindly on the double. The army of necromancers was completely surprised and massacred."

"And now?"

"Now I have the opportunity to achieve my goals much better with my new character. I was able to exchange the bonuses for my necromancer's achievements for bonuses in character creation. I invested everything in a higher starting rank in the Church of Nistrul. This allowed me to start immediately as a priest-necromancer. As Nistrul becomes more powerful, so will I. I will build an empire of my own. An empire of the undead!" His laughter rumbled through the virtual room.

"You're not mad at all?"

"Not at all. The ambush was meticulously orchestrated. I can use someone who can organize something like that. I've put together a group of noobs to carry out an important mission. Only they're completely incompetent."

"You already said they're noobs."

"Incompetent, even for noobs." Umbramar's skull avatar managed to look annoyed.

OrcSlayer grimaced: "Ouch. Then you could really use all the help you can get. What's it worth to you?"

"Well, an in-game salary for a guild officer."

"Cool, but I could use some money in the real world."

Umbramar shook his head: "Nemesis forbids the mixing of in-game services and real-world rewards. The AI already hates the fact that you can redeem real money at Peituwin's shrine. But the operators got their way. You wouldn't believe the money it brings in every month. Once VR is fully up and running, sales will exceed the gross domestic product of a medium-sized European country."

OrcSlayer grimaced in annoyance. He had hoped that the ultra-rich CEO had found a way around the limitations of the AI. "All right, then. But I also need a lot of gold in-game to refresh my equipment. I've already died twice now."

"That doesn't speak for you. What have you done?"

"Some of the NPCs are much more aggressive and capable than I expected. The new AI cores are no comparison to before."

"Well, that's certainly an interesting story. You can tell me about it later at your leisure. Missing equipment won't be a problem, though. As a guild officer, you are, of course, entitled to appropriate equipment."

An image of plate armor with chain pieces, steel arm and leg guards and leather boots appeared on the screen. OrcSlayer whistled through his teeth, impressed: "Wow. This makes me a little less agile until I've learned the appropriate skills for armor usage, but practically invulnerable. At least for the weapons of beginner opponents and monsters. But I still need a weapon. A normal longsword will do."

"Not a chance." The skull sounded resolut.

"What? A sword costs next to nothing. Without a weapon, I'm completely useless."

The skull chuckled, "No chance of the leader of one of my armies walking around with a boring sword. I have my reputation to think of."

A long sword made of reddish steel appeared on the screen. The blade glowed slightly from the inside. Where the blade and the crossguard met, round red semi-precious stones were embedded that looked like blood-soaked eyes.

The skull managed to look very self-satisfied: "One of the bonuses I was able to buy with the successes from my last life. Nistrul himself created it. I leave it to you. An intelligent sword with the soul of a vampire."

"What can it do?"

"Intelligent artifacts are something special. It has not yet reached its full potential. It derives his power partly from its victims and partly from the might of its bearer. I don't have time to throw myself into close combat and feed it. You will do that for me."

"Yes, but what exactly can it do?"

"It is a talking sword with the Blood Drinker ability. It heals its wielder with a quarter of the life force it drains from its victims. The more enemies you kill with it and the higher your level, the more powerful it becomes."

"Does it have a name yet?"

"Connoisseur. If it likes you, maybe you can call it Conner."

"I can't wait to try it out."