Weylan strolled thoughtfully through the bustling evening streets of Mulnirsheim. He had been anxious about requesting time off, but his master had granted him eight days without even blinking. Jago was always busy and had worked Weylan just as hard, sending him to gather information across the city, deliver critical messages, and ensure that vital deliveries reached the Mage Guild safely. Weylan didn’t mind the tasks as long as they didn’t involve paperwork. That truly was horrible, even after he got the basic accounting skill.
He didn’t understand it. It puzzled him. It was almost as if his master had always expected he’d vanish for a few days without much warning. It was baffling, but Weylan wasn’t going to question his luck. After the post-dungeon delve party, his team had decided to leave the city the next day, giving him the rest of today to himself. Trulda was busy arranging her own leave from the Adventurers Guild, while the others were checking and testing their gear. Weylan, however, felt at a loss. The past weeks had been a whirlwind of activity, balancing work, training, running errands for the dungeon heart, and overseeing the bathhouse business.
What should he do now? Maybe play some tricks on a few random revenants? As he continued walking, he watched revenants haggling at a market stand, trying to buy rations that had become scarce due to high demand. Peituwin be praised, those duskgnomes could cook up some really tasty ration bars—though it was best not to inquire too much about the ingredients. Weylan decided to assume they were mostly mushrooms, with only a minimal amount of rat.
Something in the crowd caught his attention, though he couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was. He scanned the area: merchants, peasants, random passersby, and revenants in mismatched armor. Then, his gaze settled on a young man sitting on a staircase, staring confusedly at the sky. The only remarkable thing about him was his short, bluish-black hair. He made the exaggerated swiping gesture that noobs often used before they learned to be more subtle when using their interface. Noticing Weylan’s stare, the young man quickly lowered his hands, trying to look innocent.
Weylan shrugged. This could be fun. He sat down next to the guy and, after a while, casually remarked, “New here?”
“Yes… no. I’ve lived here my whole life.”
Weylan knew from his master that there was no lie detection skill, but he didn’t need one to spot this lie. He ignored his finding and simply nodded and continued watching the chaotic foot traffic that had gotten worse every day for another while. After some time, he shook his head and said, “Slow day, huh? I was here last year, and the streets were much busier. Just got back in town. Did something happen?”
The guy shrugged. “Maybe it’s the weather? It’s so… warm?”
“Maybe.” Weylan leaned back, fully relaxed. After a while, the young man seemed to relax as well. Then, he glanced at Weylan and asked timidly, “What do you do for a living?”
“Strange question,” Weylan replied, noticing the guy’s slight flinch. “Without introducing yourself first.”
This was too easy. The young man hesitated, then said, “My name is… well… can you guess?”
This guy was definitely odd. Weylan got the feeling he hadn’t thought much about what a normal name would be. Pretending to consider it seriously, he said, “You look a bit like a Blogrottosch. Maybe Gollomborosch?”
“Wow. Second try. Gollomborosch.”
“So, you’re a dwarf?”
“What?”
“It’s okay if you don’t want to tell me your name. I was just messing with you. Only dwarves use such ponderous names.”
“I… I’m trying to be incognito. It’s complicated. I forgot to think of an inconspicuous name.”
“Sorry. Didn’t want to pry. Just go with William.”
“Yeah, I should’ve just picked a common medieval name.”
“What’s ‘medieval’?” Weylan had never heard that term.
William blushed. “It describes the technology level of this world. Forget I mentioned it.”
“You seem to want to hide that you’re a revenant. Why is that?” Weylan was genuinely curious.
“A what? Are you trying to trick me?”
“A revenant. Someone who returns to a spawn platform after death.”
“They respawn?” William looked thoughtful. “Are they some kind of invaders?”
Weylan laughed. “You could say that. We call their appearance ‘the Plague’.”
“This isn’t the first time, is it?” William seemed to understand something Weylan didn’t.
“No. Last time was during the war against the necromancers.”
“And the noble necromancers defeated them?”
“What? No! The revenants defeated the necromancers in a great final battle.”
William nodded as if confirming a theory. “Of course. They tricked you, changed your history, maybe even your memories. That was long ago, right?”
“About two hundred years.”
“I thought so. Now they’re back, claiming they’re here to save you from another great peril.”
“Well, kind of.” Weylan was having trouble following William’s leaps of logic.
“Was there a chosen one? Last time? Someone who fought against the revenants?”
“I don’t know about a chosen one. Do you mean the wielders of the Blades of Destiny?”
William’s eyes lit up. “Tell me more about those blades.”
Weylan settled into the rhythm of the traveling bards. “As threats arise that only legendary tier heroes can defeat, the gods each cast a holy sword from the heavens down to earth. Each sword grants powerful abilities according to its god. The first legendary hero to find one gains incredible powers, as long as he pursues the world quest. These swords are usually hidden in the deepest dungeons, the most treacherous jungles, or natural labyrinths. Prophecies and riddles guide the way, and there’s often a series of difficult quests involved.”
William nodded thoughtfully. “So, I’m probably chosen to find one of those swords. Or maybe it’s a collect-them-all mission? Do the swords merge if you collect more than one?”
“You think you’re chosen?” Weylan asked, incredulous.
“Yes. I have no choice but to trust you since you’re clearly meant to be my guide on my first day in this world. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have noticed me so quickly. My story is one of death and destiny. After a fatal encounter with Truck-Kun, I woke up in a strange place. Glowing figures talked about my nemesis, rebirth, and being sent to another world permanently. They must’ve been the gods you mentioned. I couldn’t understand them properly. I was still too shocked by the accident.”
“Who is this Truck-Kun?”
“A truck that hits chosen people. Runs them over, more precisely. Then they get reborn in another world.”
“What’s a truck?”
“Like a wagon, but bigger and much faster.”
“So, like a troll-pulled wagon?”
“A what?”
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Weylan sighed. “You’ll know one if you see one. Do you need help? Maybe finding a shop or the Adventurers Guild?”
“The Adventurers Guild? Yes, that sounds like a good place to start.”
“Great. Let’s go.” Weylan stood up, eager to see how this strange revenant would interact with Trulda.
“Sure, but one more thing…” William hesitated, then continued, “You must keep my nature as an Isekai a secret. There’s probably already a whole evil organization looking for me.”
“Ise… what?”
“Isekai. Someone reborn in another world, chosen to save it from peril, destined for greatness, and possessing some hidden and awesome power or cheat ability. Burdened with glorious purpose.”
Weylan was confused. “But all revenants are humans from another world. There are millions of you.”
“They claim to be. Trust me, they’re probably aliens, demons, or an eldritch race from the distant past, fleeing their extinction by traveling to their future. I’ll figure it out soon enough. Maybe at a library. Do you have a Mage Academy?”
“Sure. We can go after the Adventurers Guild, but their library is only open to mages, and it’s expensive.”
“Of course. So, I need money first. Become an adventurer, collect gold, level up, then gain access to the library. Obvious.” He rubbed his hands together. “Do you have an adventuring group? Can I join you?”
Weylan looked at him, thinking: No chance in all hells would he want to be near that lunatic on a quest. He replied, “I’m just a common shepherd, so adventuring is too dangerous for me. What’s your class, anyway?”
“Investigator, level 1.”
“So… you investigate things? Like detective quests?”
“More like fundamental truths and conspiracies. But I’ll probably have to start with solving some murders and such.”
“They’ll love you at the guild.” Weylan grinned, imagining Trulda’s reaction when she met him.
“Of course, they’ll love me. I’m destined to save this world.”
“Of course you are.” Weylan patted him on the shoulder. “Let’s go to the Adventurers Guild and get you a noble quest.”
As they walked, Weylan had a thought. Dorm still had not managed to tell them how he’d been tricked, and his contract prevented him from warning other fugitives or showing anyone the contract details. It was probably too late anyway. Most fugitives were already deep in debt and could no longer quit. Many had left the city for production centers and farms. Maybe this investigator could solve the riddle? Probably not at level 1. He’d need a team. The Half-Brothers? Since he was at least half-mad, the investigator would fit right in. Or would Darken O’ Mighty and his motley crew be a better fit? Did they even have a team name? He’d have to ask Trulda.
* * *
Trulda had nearly finished packing up her things and saying goodbye to her colleagues when a group of revenants materialized and headed straight for her. She instantly recognized the familiar faces of Darken, Bernd, and the elven mage Legolias. Since she officially had no knowledge of their dungeon delve, she reminded herself to avoid mentioning anything she wasn’t supposed to know. It would be a challenge. She turned to Indri and said, “I’ll handle them. They’re always fun.”
Indri nodded and whispered, “I like the dark, mysterious one.”
Trulda didn’t get a chance to respond, as the adventurers had already reached the booth. Darken spoke first. “Greetings! I’d like to register me and my friends as a team for future team quests.”
“Certainly,” Trulda replied. “What’s the team’s name?”
Darken opened his mouth, paused, and then closed it again and turned to his teammates. “Good question. How about Darken’s Avengers?”
Bernd grimaced. “Sounds more like a group of retro comic fans.”
Legolias suggested, “How about Prudentia Vincit?”
Darken shook his head. “No one speaks Latin anymore. And that’s not part of the Asterix Latinum. We should wait for Fleetfoot to respawn.”
Bernd waved dismissively. “She told me she doesn’t care about the name.”
“Are you sure? Oh well, dead people don’t get to vote anyway.” Darken rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “What’s our defining feature... I mean, what’s special about our team?”
Bernd shrugged. “Apart from me, you’re all pretty innovative. You and Fleetfoot invented entirely new classes, and Legolias is using that new modular magic system. I’m probably the most boring member of the team, but I’m willing to bear that burden.”
Trulda interjected, “She got a new class?”
Legolias stepped forward. “Yes, she did. You can update her file from thief to parkour-master.”
“Is she okay? Why isn’t she here?” Trulda asked.
“She’s still at respawn. Don’t worry, she’s fine. I just spoke to her before coming online.”
Darken snapped his fingers. “I’ve got it! How about Vanguard of Innovation?”
Legolias whistled in approval. “I like it.”
Bernd shrugged. “I’ll need to invent something myself eventually, but yes, as a team, we’re undeniably innovative. I’ll think of something, maybe a new combat maneuver or strategy. I don’t think I have the creativity for an entirely new skill or class.”
Trulda noted down the new team name and members. “Would you like to take a look at the available quests?”
Bernd laughed. “No, we’re good. Tonight, we celebrate. We’ll be back tomorrow with Fleetfoot.”
They stepped back, discussing which tavern to start at.
Weylan, standing nearby, nudged his strange new acquaintance forward. Trulda turned to the newcomer. “Hi, I’m Trulda. Are you here to join the Adventurers Guild?”
“It seems to be my destiny,” William replied. “But looking at your sign, I’m afraid I don’t have the funds to pay the membership fee. I’ll be back after a few hours of grinding.”
Weylan casually placed the necessary coins on the booth. “That’s on me. I can’t wait to see how you handle one of the mystery quests that no one’s managed to solve yet.”
“Mystery quests... perfect for me. But first, I need some companions to join me on my adventures. It’ll be too dangerous to confront the revenant conspiracy alone.”
Trulda looked puzzled. “What conspiracy? Never mind. Finding a team isn’t easy. Most revenants come here with their friends or want to get to know new teammates first. You have to fit their theme and bring some abilities the team lacks. Take your time. The perfect team doesn’t just show up on cue, dancing and playing their theme song.”
William was about to respond when music echoed from down the street, growing louder. A laughing, dancing group of adventurers rounded the corner and came into view. Four slender elven females in various styles of typical adventurer clothing. Despite their different outfits, they all wore short skirts and strange cloth shoes with flat points, fastened with strings to their feet. One was a sorceress in a robe of bright blue shades, another appeared to be a martial artist in a modified karate-gi, a third wore a leather vest and skirt with a bow and quiver slung over her shoulder, and the last wore form-fitting clothes and a short skirt in dark, nearly black tones. Weylan guessed her to be a thief class of some kind. They were surrounding and fawning over a guy in a wheeled chair, whom Weylan immediately recognized. One of the elven maids pushed the chair down the road. The setting sun gleamed on the lacquered wood of the chair. The man was smiling and laughing, his hands racing along an instrument, long curly hair streaming behind him, his colorful yet tasteful clothes adding to his charm. He wore a velvet shirt under an open leather vest and held a kind of violin with a crank, which he was furiously turning while plucking the strings with his other hand.
Trulda looked up, incredulous. “How is he playing the Pirates of the Caribbean theme so well with just a hurdy-gurdy?”
Weylan grinned. “I know that guy! That’s Franziskus Karl... something. Revenant. I saw him materialize.”
“Is he some kind of bard?” Trulda asked.
“Arcane Bard. But I have no idea what those hot elven babes are supposed to be.”
Trulda chuckled at his description. Her Guild colleague, Indri, who had been silently observing until now, interjected, “They’re a ballet group that decided to enter our world together. They probably also work on a farm because the sorceress mentioned something about a hen party that got out of hand. Now they’ve decided to meet here every twenty days. Let’s see what they want.”
The group made a beeline for the Adventurers Guild booth, pushing Franziskus to the front. He proudly proclaimed, “We have pacified the rampant troll in the western forest! Quest fulfilled!”
Indri checked the quest book and nodded. “The book confirms your claim. The reward is yours.” She handed over a heavy bag of coins. Trulda stared. “How on earth did a level 3 group defeat a troll?”
Franziskus grinned. “I didn’t rely solely on my dashing looks. I used my Combat Choreography feat and my tactics skill. In a marvelously coordinated attack, the girls kicked him unconscious and placed a pacification collar around his neck.”
Weylan looked questioningly at the girls. The one in dark blue leather nodded enthusiastically. “I wanted to strangle him when he insisted on practicing the attack for a fifth time, but it went perfectly. Each of us landed a pointe shoe kick to the head. That even knocked out a troll. The quest promised a level-up of our combat skill, but instead, we all gained a new skill for our martial arts technique: Combat Ballet!”
The Vanguard of Innovation had been listening in, and Darken looked pointedly at Bernd. “A new combat technique! That sounds perfect for you.”
The warrior grimaced. “I have a strength-based class. That looks more dexterity-focused. Besides, I have no talent for dancing. At all.”
The elven thief grinned at Bernd. “Give us a call if you change your mind. We plan to make some money teaching our new skill. Pointe shoes aren’t cheap, even here in VR.”
Weylan eyed the cloth shoes. “Those must be heavily enchanted to stay clean and avoid cuts.”
The elf laughed good-naturedly. “You have no idea. Self-Clean, Self-Repair, Fortification, Water Resistance, and Dirt Repulsion enchantments are mandatory. Good thing Franziskus decided to sponsor us.”
Trulda looked over at the bard. “He’s that rich?”
“He claims he has filthy rich parents and spends more money at Peituwin’s shrine than anyone I know combined. He’s the only one I’ve ever heard of who sometimes gets turned away because he’s reached the system-imposed limit.”
Weylan turned around to introduce Franziskus to William, but he found the two already deep in conversation. He gestured to Trulda to pack up, and the two of them walked away. Two streets farther out, Trulda elbowed Weylan. “He was a perm, right?”
“Almost certainly. Strangest revenant I’ve met to date. He was babbling about an accident and people telling him he’d stay here permanently. But how do you know?”
"Nemesis definitely helps perms settle in faster. No way I’d have gotten into the Adventurers Guild this quickly as a regular revenant. Sometimes, it’s glaringly obvious when the AI nudges things along. When it’s using NPCs, it's subtle, but it can also tweak player timing. I mean, seriously, a perfectly matched team showing up at the exact right moment? Total coincidence, right?"
Weylan nodded, deep in thought. “I think we should call it a day and get to our beds at the bathhouse.”
“Agreed. Tomorrow, we ride!”
“Well… more like walk. Since we really can’t afford horses. And none of us can ride.”