Visit the shops, talk to the NPCs on the way, then head out of town for the first adventure. This was how Mickey envisioned his schedule.

The shops were the easiest to check off. The weapon shop—

“Here, Trailblazer, take this sword. It’s old but it’ll do you good in an emergency.”

“I don’t think I need a sword. I think I have my Ball—huh? Can I not bring out my weapon in a shop?”

Mickey heard a buzzer going off when he tried to conjure up Ball&Chain. He had a hunch—he checked his Slate and saw an error message telling him he couldn’t use combat Skills in a safe zone.

“Huh. I guess that makes sense—”

“Here you go, Trailblazer!”

The weapon shop owner, an older, burly man shoved the sword onto Mickey—he could do nothing but accept.

“Well, that was nice of him. And that was very game-y,” Mickey mused as he went to the next shop—the item shop.

“What a cute Trailblazer! Here, here, you must take this!”

While being intrigued by the wares, the owner—a middle-aged, round, plump, and heavily made-up woman—shoved three vials of potions onto him. As she was explaining that they were the standard type of video game potion—the one that heals a modest amount of health points (HP)—Mickey noticed a mark of red lipstick on one of the vials.

He looked the woman straight in the eye. “Thank you, very much for your generosity!” he said with a smile.

Mickey wasn’t one to balk at another’s goodwill—how would his grandmother feel? Mickey didn’t want to think of his own grandmother’s goodwill being made fun of, so he most certainly make fun of another’s—this was all to say that Mickey had a soft spot for older women with good intentions.

Next was the armor shop—

“Sorry, Trailblazer, I’m not like my associate across the way. I can’t give you any free armor,” said the one-eyed, and very scarred, burly, and hairy man. If there was someone that looked like he needed armor, it was this man.

“A—Ahh, that’s okay, I’ll come back lat—”

The owner was looking at the embers of his furnace. “Bring me the materials, and I will make for you an armor that will protect your light wherever it goes…”

… What’s with this atmosphere? Is there a cold breeze blowing in here? He's wearing that armorer apron—why is it blowing in the wind? Is that a bug? Where's that breeze coming from?

After quietly leaving the armorer to stare at his furnace some more, Mickey went to the most unique establishment—the blessing shrine. This one was in a building like all the others, but on the inside, it was closer to a small church with an ornate altar of wood.

“Hello!” said the young lady Mickey assumed was the priestess of the shrine given her loose, white robes. “Please, take these charms—when you need the light the most, open them, and you will be protected for those few crucial moments.”

The priestess, with long, blond hair tied back, handed Mickey three charms. They looked to be palm-sized sacks with some kind of sand—or something similar—inside.

“Keep the light close,” she said as she pardoned herself to continue cleaning the shrine.

This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

Mickey moved briskly from townsfolk to townsfolk after leaving the shrine. He half-wanted to try speaking with the NPCs for longer, to see if he could figure out where the cracks in their intelligence were, but he was also being mindful of his time.

I could talk to them another time when I’m taking it easy, he thought as he finished greeting the ninth person.

So far, shopkeepers included, the people of Torea had behaved the most NPC-like. With the shopkeepers, they all did what was to be expected—introduce their shop and give an example of what they carried. The townsfolk proper—they had nothing to give away, but their topics were the expected fare. They brought up facts about the town, worried about the dangerous world outside the town, and spoke of their family. Just what you would expect for a starter town in a simple game.

At the ninth person, however, Mickey wondered, Maybe I can go speak with her and it will count?

Spurred on by curiosity, Mickey went down a certain path lined by pines. As he approached the lake he was transported to, he looked to the side for Mary’s stall. He caught sight of her a minute away and observed her as she approached.

I guess that’s normal for an NPC… But it’s strange to see someone so life-like doing it.

Mary, unlike many of the other NPCs going through the motions of their day, was sitting still. Staring. Her only movement was the blinking of her eyes. Seeing someone so still—if it was real life, Mickey would have thought they were a monk in meditation.

Getting to observe this behavior, Mickey was grateful that he thought to return.

“Hey, Mary,” Mickey said with a wave.

She turned and smiled, practically coming to life before Mickey’s eyes. “Hello, Trailblazer!”

“You can call me Mickey—”

“Understood, Tralas Mick.”

There it is again, Mickey thought as he raised a brow at her. “I’m doing a quest. I wanted to greet you.”

“You wanted to greet me?”

“I did.”

She froze—the characteristic, off-putting freeze. After a few seconds, she cocked her head. “Why? Did I not explain something well? Did you get lost?”

Her voice had a tinge of fright behind the confusion—or at least that was what Mickey heard.

“No, not at all. I just thought I could greet you since you were so nice to me.”

“I was nice to you…” Her face lit up and she blinked repeatedly. “No, it was my pleasure! Thank you for greeting me!”

“I’m going to be leaving town in a bit to do a quest. Do you have any advice for me?”

This time, Mary looked to the sky before freezing for a few seconds. Again, she unfroze after a few seconds and gave a spirited response. “I don’t think I have a card for that—I’m sorry—”

“No, no, I don’t need you to read a card.” Mickey reassured her with a nod and grin. “I want to hear what you think.”

“What I think…” Mary repeated, lightly touching her lips with her slender fingers. “I think…” Mary’s eyes met Mickey’s. “I think you should keep the light close. You’ll be safe that way!”

“I heard that from the lady at the shrine. Is that something you all say?”

She didn’t freeze, instead, she nodded repeatedly but when she spoke—

“Yes… Yes, it is something we say.”

—it was like she was realizing the answer herself.

“Huh. Understood.” Mickey wanted to ask more but he was becoming fearful. I don’t want to break her.

“Was I helpful, Tralas Mick?”

“Always.”

Mary seemed to be the happiest she had ever been. “I’m glad. Good luck, Tralas Mick! I’m rooting for you!”

Hold on. A question popped into Mickey’s head—he was going to risk it. “What are you rooting on me to do?”

This was as good of a time to ask—what was the final goal? Mickey right now had short-term goals, and his own personal long-term goal of acquiring enough Excia but in terms of the final in-game goal, Mickey had no clear idea. What exactly did the NPCs of HWO want? That was what Mickey wondered.

“To enjoy our world,” she replied, without a single break.

“Is that all? Really? You don’t want me to save it or something?”

It was a fair question—world salvation was the end goal of many of the games Mickey had played.

“I would not impose on a Trailblazer’s enjoyment.”

Mary kept her eyes locked on Mickey as he became mildly alarmed by how off-putting the exchange was.

“R-Right,” he finally said. “Okay. Thank you for the chat. I’m enjoying your world so far.”

“That… That makes me very happy.”

“Okay… I’ll go now…” Mickey said, awkwardly bowing.

“Very well. Thank you for greeting me, Tralas Mick.”

Mickey parted with the greeter and pulled out his Slate. Through the Quest Menu, he saw that the quest’s info had updated—he had spoken to ten NPCs. Mary counted—though if she hadn’t, it would not have been a problem.

Mickey looked back toward Mary’s stall, already so far apart.

Maybe I’m being distracted by the wrong thing. The freeze isn’t that big of a deal—she’s able to form intelligent answers. A momentary freeze feels like a fair exchange but…

Mickey recalled what it was that she wanted Mickey to do.

“You want me to enjoy the world—this world… Robot—that word came from a word that meant slave, right?”

It was a modest aside but it made him wonder. Mickey went on his way, his thoughts captivated by a new angle of approach for his queries. He didn’t think it would happen, but he had become very invested in figuring out the nature of the intelligence behind the people he was speaking with.