Clark finds himself leaning into a tree. For all his merit and fierceness, he cannot for the life of him turn around to strike at them again. The pain… the immense pain is so real that it would debilitate, but just like the with school, Clark needs to grin and bear it.

In just a few minutes outside of the silent glade, an active camouflaged operator is revealed, approaching the tree with his rifle slung-round.

“They’ve left the area,” Scribe Ein starts, his tactical visor gleaming dully in the soft forest light.

“Heals,” Clark says in a wavering tone.

“What?”

Clark turns from his hunched position at the tree to review his damage. “Heal my fucking hand, man!”

Ein draws back in put-on surprise. “I’m very sorry.”

“What do you mean! Heal me!” Clark steps forward into Ein’s space senselessly, brandishing the crimson knob that is now his right forearm, gripped tightly by the left to prevent bleeding.

Ein smirks under his visor. “Mister Bennett, body parts cannot be regenerated in this game. If you want to regain use of your hand, you either get it back, or have an artificer-skilled player replace i-”

“Bullshit!” Clark bark in exasperation. “I want my fucking hand!”

Ein slaps the boy across his face, causing Clark to freeze up from the abuse.

“You haven’t lost your real hand Clark. It only feels like it.”

Clark needs a moment to respond in between his hysterical gasps. “…I… yeah, I know.” He takes a deep breath as Ein nods.

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“Good, now act like it. I wasn’t kidding when I said Dragon Scythe Online was a true next generation game.”

“The term game is a little bit of a stretch, don’t ya’ think?” Clark asks with a grin as he leans against the large oak that he’s already bled a couple of gallons of his digital blood upon.

Ein laughs. “A game for the strong, where the punishments are great, but the rewards are greater… Look, if you want I can kill you in-game and it’ll log you out. You’ll be free and can play the game norma-”

“Fuck that,” Clark says with a tight, furious grin. “We still need to get that scythe back.”

Ein picks up Clark, slinging him around his shoulders. “We certainly do, I need to find an inn.”

“An inn? For HP?” Clark asks, the embarrassment of being carried no competitor for his attention when he’s freshly lost a limb.

“Yes, and I need to sleep.” Ein picks up his pacing into a full sprint, bolts faster than Kell, but much, much slower than what Hero’s top speed will be.

“What for?”

“I need to access the admin and request a… change.”

Clark sighs as he shakes his head. “This doesn’t make any sense, can’t you just whisper him?”

“No, and it’s a she.”

“Huh… So what are we changing?”

“Going to activate an event early. It was actually slated for just an hour from now, when we expected maximum player numbers with the server.”

“Hmm… how big are these servers?”

“There’s only one server, and it’s roughly fifty million.”

“Jesus, Mary and Joseph,” Clark says under his breath. “This hurts,” he says with a chuckle.

“Stay with it. And who are they?”

Clark’s gaze shifts down to Ein. “Who do you… wait, are you serious?”

“Your family, I assume?” Ein asks.

Clark looks back up to the road with a bland, expression, sick with pain. “Jesus, all these roleplayers. I’m going insane. Can you tone it down, at least a little? It’s kinda psyching me out.”

Ein hums with a thoughtful tone. “You need to get immersed. You should be toning it up.”

Clark scoffs. “Fine. Whoa m’lord are we verily making travel to yonder city? I’ve heardest goodly things about such a fief.”

Ein, looking more like someone who just walked off a spaceship than from an ancient catacomb, shakes his head. “You seem awfully snippy for someone who just lost a hand.”

“Gotta make the best out of what ya’ got, right?”

The two share a laugh as they pass through the city gates, Ein slowing to a trot.