“There's nothing to apologize for,” I told Enrico, the son of Mr. Armand, while pretending to struggle to fake a strong voice. Layered fakery. "How many times have I already said this? You don't want me to sound like a broken recorder, do you? Ah, you youngsters don't know what that expression is." Can I call him a youngster? I was only a decade older than him.

“Nonetheless, sir, we’re sorry that—”

“There you go again.”

I wouldn’t have to keep repeating myself if Enrico didn’t apologize again and again. And he wouldn’t be doing that if I didn't continually hint in a very subtle passive-aggressive way that they were at fault I was here in the hospital. Without my sisters here to stop me…I’m unstoppable!

Was Mr. Armand at fault? The gym? No, I myself didn't think so. I also had no intention of suing them or souring our business relations. Why then was I doing this?

Because I, the benevolent Herald Stone, couldn't extend forgiveness to others…if there was nothing to forgive.

"We'll pay for your medical expenses, Mr. Sto—I mean Mr. Herald," Enrico said.

"No need for that." I waved away his concerns. This was the point I should stop. His offer confirmed how much his father wanted to maintain my goodwill. Also, I couldn't accept it, not only because it went against my image of magnanimity, but it could also affect the optics of our interaction given that our group of restaurants and affiliate businesses are much, much bigger than Mr. Armand's. To change the topic, I pointed at the HTV. I had noticed Enrico glancing a couple of times at the show. "You play MCO?"

His face lit up. "I'm an avid player, sir. Last year, anyway." Slowly shaking his head, he continued, "Nowadays, not so much. Dad wants me to be more hands-on in managing the company, so I don't have much time to play. But don't tell him.”

I can sympathize with that. “Of course, of course, don’t worry.” I gave him a conspiratorial wink

“Do you also play, Mr. Herald?"

"Who doesn't? Pretty casually though. Like you, I don't have much free time."

"I imagine so, sir."

"At the least, I assume you keep up with happenings?" I repeated what I had just learned from Ronald. "Victores Sors declared war on The Syndicate this morning at around six. They're attacking Aderenthine Fortress now." I gestured for Enrico to shift his chair so he could watch the HTV, then I turned the volume up and enlarged the projections.

Three towering giants, their titanic clubs crackling with lightning, battered the thick walls of the formidable castle I assumed to be Aderenthine Fortress. The giants carried structures on their shoulders and backs, reminiscent of the towers on top of war elephants in ancient times but on a much grander scale. These housed warriors wielding long-ranged weapons and spellcasters that attempted to drive away the defenders from the walls.

“Using all of their three giants right this early in the war?” said Enrico, his eyes sparkling with excitement. “Victores Sors must want to bring down Aderenthine fast.”

“Has anyone already found out how Victores Sors obtained these kinds of giants?” I asked, shoring up the image of Herald Stone, The Cool Uncle.

“Don’t think so, sir,” Enrico replied. Again, I hit the nail on the head. I rightly assume these were closely guarded secrets of the top guild. He continued, “If somebody did, they’re going to keep mum about it.”

“Or make lots of money off the black market for it.” The markets of MCO, both the legitimate and the illegal—the latter usually cropping up once a game got big enough—were involved in various issues last year. Most of them were tax-related, so I did know about those because I kept up with financial news.

“That’s right, sir. I heard rumors the Expeditionary Legion offered Victores Sors half a million warblers for the secret of their giants.”

I raised a brow at the amount mentioned but played it off as if I already knew about it. “Oh that. Personally, I think that price is too low.”

From my limited understanding of Mother Core Online, I knew that players had a wide selection of starting races to choose from, all of which branched into numerous variants unlocked through completing quests or discovering secrets of the lore. The vast possibilities were something I couldn’t wrap my head around. Planning a character sounds like a nightmare.

How would the players optimize their characters if there were endless options, most of which were still undiscovered? Was there even balancing in this game? Given that players could become actual giants smacking down dozens of others, and those who discovered valuable secrets held incredible advantages, I doubted there was any.

And maybe…this was the next evolution of RPGs in the virtual world.

“Enrico, are giants the best tanks in MCO?” I asked, recalling my Nornyr Online days when I was obsessed with making a tank character. It felt satisfying to be unkillable and look down on the weaklings tickling me.

"Hard to say, sir," he replied, scratching his neatly shaved squarish chin as he pondered, "because there's a lot we still don’t know about the game. So far, they probably are. The Ghrazgals especially, these bad boys the Victores Sors are using.

“A friend of mine shared the character stat chart for it—I don't know if that was real because Victores Sors keeps a tight lid on any information about their trump card--and it showed that Ghrazgals had the biggest health and highest defensive attributes out of all the currently available choices. Way ahead of the other giants, who are also some of the toughest bastards—oops, apologies for my language, Mr. Sto—Mr. Herald."

"Giants are bastards alright," I said with a chuckle. "Luckily, I haven't fought against one because I don't have the time to commit to joining guild wars."

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

"I understand that, sir. A few months ago, before I had to quit because of time issues, I was a member of a high-ranking guild, the GummyLions. Not sure if you heard of us...of them."

"I think I might have," I said, giving the most noncommittal answer like a sham fortune-teller. I twirled my hands to tell Enrico to continue his story.

"The GummyLions are strong, but probably not enough that everyone would recognize the name. Back then, we only had the resources to maintain one giant. Fighting alongside and against giants? Damn, I miss those days."

The bird’s eye view of the camera panned beyond the giants to the vast grasslands that stretched in front of the castle, sweeping over the attacking forces and their siege machines. Arcane cannons hurled balls of purple flames.

The camera tracked one of the projectiles as it flew over three layers of walls, only to be disintegrated when it hit an invisible barrier protecting the castle’s keep. The shield shimmered into view, a gossamer curtain of light, and then parted. Flights of dragon riders soared out of the opening to join the battle.

"Imagine if everyone were to play as giants," I said in a joking way, checking his reaction. I didn't want to directly ask why players didn't just pick the giants as their character if they were the strongest. Why wasn’t Hierakon—the world Mother Core Online was set in—crawling with giant players?

"That would be absolute insanity." Enrico laughed like a braying donkey, thumping his knee with his palm. "Good thing each giant requires a ton of resources to build. They require babysitting because they can't even enter most cities and plenty of NPCs hate them. They got a saying for that, sir." He snapped his fingers a few times. "Uh, I think it was, 'It takes a guild to raise a giant', or something like that."

"Right...right..." I chuckled along with him, my eyes narrowed as my brain whirred into action. "Say, Enrico, what do you think would be a good starting character to make a tank?"

"Are you planning to build one, sir?"

“I'm thinking of fun things to try for a new character,” I nonchalantly answered. “I wasn’t able to tend to my previous one. Busy with work. Now that the doctors advised me to take some time off, I thought of making a new one and playing to relax. A tank might be fun. What do you recommend?”

“For solo play, sir? The best tanks need guilds to support them. If only casual gameplay, humans are a good choice. They have access to plenty of Ocadules.” And he rattled off terms I knew nothing about, discussing this or that race.

I let him continue, listening with half an ear for tips while checking my messages. Nelly was continuing to pester me. She texted me, [Is Mr. Armand’s son already there? Treat him nicely.]

[Why wouldn’t I treat him nicely?] was my reply.

[That means he’s there. Don’t make a big issue of the gym incident.]

[What gym incident?]

[You’re definitely messing with him.]

My sisters were the only ones who knew the real me. I grinned as I turned back to Enrico. “Thank you so much for the tips, Enrico. I’ll try those out when I have the time to spare.”

“No problem, sir.” He fixed his tie and sat straighter on his chair. “It’s really cool, sir, that you’re also playing MCO. I thought you were, erm, like my dad. Just focused on business and all that.”

“Oh, but I’m also thinking of business matters.” Regurgitating the information from one of the MCO Channel’s shows I watched yesterday, I explained, “Believe it or not, a large chunk of MCO player demographics consist of people in their twenties and thirties. Not surprising because that is the age range with money to spend on the helms while also having an interest in playing the game.”

“That’s also the age range of people focused on their careers. Work hard, and then perhaps play MCO to wind down. In fact, work and playing in MCO are merging recently. Companies with online office spaces have moved into the virtual world of MCO.”

Enrico’s brows furrowed. “I don’t follow, sir.”

“More and more people are staying in their homes, busy with work, playing MCO afterward…they don’t have much time for anything else. Rather than spend time cooking, they prefer to order food, which they can do while they’re in-game, log out and eat when the delivery arrives, and go back to playing afterward. It sounds dystopian, doesn’t it? But that’s the reality. Fast food and delivery services are the way of the future given how the world is moving indoors and online.”

Erico’s face lit up in amazement at my preaching. “I never thought if it that way, Mr. Herald. That’s amazing foresight!”

Amazing indeed, especially because I only thought of it now. Herald Stone, Bullshit Lord of the Century. I was so impressed with what I came up with to teach Mr. Armand’s son that I considered building a statue in my honor, for only me can honor me. Perhaps a statue was a bit too much.?

We discussed business matters for a couple more minutes before I shooed him away, hinting that my lunch was already cold. After he left, I microwaved my food, taking care not to mess with the sensors on my body as I moved about the room—they were wireless, so it was convenient.

And as I ate my lunch, I continued watching the MCO Channel, feeling like I was a kid again.

The commentaries of game casters during the guild war sparked the imagination of the kid gamer inside me that laid dormant for years. I let my brain go wild theorycrafting various builds—all of which were probably wrong because I barely knew anything about the game—as the casters discussed the strongest players of the two battling guilds, the strategies employed, and so on.

The battle ended with Victores Sors capturing Aderenthine Fortress.

Or what was left of it.

The Syndicate delayed the invaders until they were able to evacuate their stronghold, and then blew it up so it wouldn’t fall into the hands of the enemy. The commentators explained it would take time to rebuild the fortress, so The Syndicate could come back to recapture it from Victores Sors before the defenses were up once again.

One hour passed. Two hours. Three.

My MCO Channel Marathon continued.

There were small-scale player-versus-player, or PVP, events with a prize pool, again reminding me of the day I last played computer games. A one-versus-one charity tournament for cancer research—for a good cause, very laudable. A VR streamer showed off the mechanics of a new boss and how to beat it.

Yesterday, I half-made up my mind to buy an AU-VR Helm to try MCO. After talking to Enrico, I wholly made up my mind—half and half made a whole, as per Herald Stone, the Mathematician. Actually, I might make a Goal for it. The world needed to know of Herald, The Best Tank…

I closed my eyes, if only…

A Goal for MCO would just be a reminder of my failure. Playing it casually might be better. After all, I was rusty from not playing any sort of game, even if I was confident my galaxy-spanning, venerable intellect could come up with something that would blow the minds of people thinking like boxes.

Thinking like a box…I chuckled at the thought. It was a phrase I hadn’t used in ages. What the hell was it supposed to mean?

I brought up The List on my WeeCee. On the top of it was:

Goal #1 - I will become the best tank in Nornyr Online, crush everyone, and remain standing after every battle.

This was the forever stain on The List. There was no way for this Goal to be completed.

Nornyr Online had shut down.