I take a slow breath as I walk out onto the stone balcony, arrow knocked and bow taught in my left hand. I look past European architecture. Past the five story building to my right with the glowing, vertical “Alderworth” sign. Past the 15 foot golden statue to my left of a child holding hands with a humanoid figure. I focus over the wrought iron bars set above a red brick wall on the open window of a steepled church looming just across the square.

I see movement. My finger releases the arrow and I turn to the side just as a red line flashes across my eyes. A miss for us both. I fire once again before dropping down to help my team hold the square. I pick off one target, then another.

We can do this. Just a little bit longer.

Then I hear a phrase that makes my stomach drop. A harsh masculine voice with a slight robotic reverberation cries out in pain, “Suffer as I have!” Desperate to put the source of the voice down, I fire a volley of arrows while crouched behind a hovering black taxi cab. But it’s too late. The hulking figure takes no prisoners. We fall one after the other in a purple haze of despair.

“Mothe* ****** *** ** * ***** **** **** **** **** ******* *******!!”

I continue on my rant for quite some time. The image on screen is silent. Just a small, shapely pixie with angular features and silver hair alongside eyes and wings that are, at the time, red with anger. The jiggle physics struggling to keep up with my wild gestures. My animated face displays my fury as my mouth moves at a rapid pace. Brow furrowed and eyes going from narrow to wide depending on the expletive as my avatar flutters around the screen with big flaming words “DEFEAT” emblazoned to emphasize my shame.

I glance at the chat and see various “git gud” statements mixed in with emojis of all kinds. Most of them laughing. The most expressive member of my chat is CyberCyren, my mod. I can almost hear her giggle and teasing tone as she berates my decision to drop down into the thick of the fight. She is also the reason for my current mutism. Something about less cursing appeals to more viewers or some bullshit. Giving her the keys to my audio has created a frustrating fun dynamic. At least the chat gets a kick out of seeing my motion-captured rant.

Finally, I focus on the camera, puff my cheeks out, and make my (in)famous pouting face, faking anger at being silenced. CyberCyren relents and gives me my voice back. “In conclusion!” I yell as soon as my audio is enabled, “That tank can suck my big donkey balls. And with that glorious ending, I’m going to bed. I should be on tomorrow around 8 PM. Don’t forget to save and see you soon. Goodnight!”

I sigh as I relax my voice. I rub my cheeks and my sore throat. It’s fun acting as my dramatic vtuber persona, PixelPixie, but I make a mental note to drink more water during my streams.

I look up at my dual monitor setup. My stream, audio, and chat sandwiched together on my right monitor with my game still logged in on the left. RGB keyboard, mouse, and tower all blinking in different colors.

Someday, when I get the motivation, I’ll sync them all together. Today is not that day.

I push my microphone away, remove the band holding my shoulder length brunette hair away from my face, and turn off the facial capture software as I let my outro play on my stream and see I have a couple of messages.

The first is from Mirah, aka CyberCyren. “Well, well, well, look who's a big shot now. We hit 50 viewers! It was for about two seconds but it counts! Just don't forget about us little people when you're a full-time streamer, okay? Jk. You were great. Have a great night and try not to let the fame get to your head.” I roll my eyes and smile as I read it.

We’re actually growing!

The second message is from “Moderator.” Probably a complaint about my cursing. Fucking narks. As I open the message, I feel a sharp pain at the back of my eye.

“Fuck me!”

The pain begins to throb. Quickly growing. I try to stand up. My legs won’t support me. I reach to get my phone, to dial 911, to send an SOS to Mirah on the computer, anything. But my arms won’t respond. I try to take a breath to scream for help but my lungs won’t cooperate. The pain is all encompassing, even the panic is pushed away by the white, searing sense of agony.

Just as a primal part of my being begins to accept that everything is over, the pain disappears.

I stay frozen in place. Breathing slowly. I can tell I’m on the floor. I don’t remember how I got here but one of my arms is twisted awkwardly behind my back and my cheek is against the cold, smooth ground.

I refuse to move. If I open my eyes, the pain might come back.

This is my life now. Goodbye Mirah. Goodbye cute pixie avatar. Goodbye 50ish fans that laughed at my misery today. If only you could see me now.

Wait a second. Cold, smooth floor? I have fucking carpet! Did I get kidnapped? Was I drugged? Wait, wait, wait… was I isekaied??

That last thought causes me to immediately open my eyes with my heart full of hope. The sound of fireworks suddenly blast from all around me, causing me to flinch and yelp. A giant monitor with a blue background hanging on the wall dominates my vision. It displays white text with pixelated fireworks going off around the words.

Welcome to the Luminary Legend beta Quest program!

After a stunned moment staring at the display dominating the opposite wall, I glance around as I stagger upright. The rest of the room doesn't have much to offer. Just smooth pale gray walls that stretch about 15 feet across on each side. The ceiling and floor match the walls, creating a uniform and monotonous atmosphere.

As I stretch a bit to make sure the pain is really gone, I notice I still have my red baggy hoodie and black shorts.

Looks like I'm stuck in a prison cell. Oh, joy. At least I still have my clothes. And who knows, I might've even pissed myself a little during that migraine from hell. Not that I'm going to check, no way. Ignorance is definitely bliss.

I walk slowly towards the monitor, my bare feet making slapping sounds that echo slightly as I go. As I get closer, the words on the screen start to blink out. They are replaced by a shield-shaped logo that I barely register before a menu pops up. The menu looks like it was made by an unimaginative GUI developer.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

Quests

Status

Inventory

Shops

Profile

Settings

“Blue boxes. Of course. But quests, status and inventory? Is this some new VR thing?” I mutter under my breath.

As I say the words, Quests then Status open and close, quickly followed by the Inventory display opening to an empty grid with only the title word “Inventory” visible along the top.

With the knowledge of how to operate the display, I grin and start where all real gamers do. “Settings!” I announce loudly.

The Settings window expands with a single option underneath.

Log Out

Knowing it can’t be this easy but with hope in my heart and false confidence in my voice, I firmly say “Log out.”

Log Out cost: 5 credits. Current Balance: 0 credits. Unable to process your request.

“Fucking SAO copying piece of shit! I knew you were going to give all of the psychos out there too many ideas when it comes to…”

My rant continues for some time. Turning my fear and unease with the situation into anger and throwing it at the stoic monitor doesn’t seem to have any effect other than to make my eyes tear up a little and my face flush with exertion.

I take a deep breath and decide to be the bigger person and NOT break the monitor with my bare hands. Which I could totally do if I wanted to. Yep.

“Profile.” I say thinking it may give me more information. A bright flash appears before me causing me to jump back and yelp.

Then I check the monitor and what I see makes my stomach drop. “Oh god no. Why? Why now?” I demand the monitor for answers that I know I’ll never receive.

In the top left of the screen, there is a larger than life image of me from the shoulders up. Dark brown hair tangled and slightly matted from my migraine trip. My normally pale skin is still flushed. It’s so red that you can barely see my freckles. My green eyes are wide and glistening with moisture, my mouth matching my eyes in a wide show of surprise and fear. At least there’s no snot running out of my small, slightly turned up nose. I didn’t even notice my oversized hoodie hanging off of one shoulder until now. It is, by far, the most revolting picture of myself that I have ever seen.

“Reset.” “Retake.” “Picture.” “Take another picture.” “Change profile picture.”

The monitor ignores me as I read the information displayed in a stupor.

Name

Quinn M.

Age

23

Race

Human

Gender

Female

Profession

Student/”Streamer”

Clan

N/A

Sponsor

*****

Feeling slightly indignant at the quotations, I call out the next menu item I can remember.

“Quests.”

World

Type

Difficulty

Saga of Xyla

Fetch

★

Folkvang

Survival

★

Departed Ascension

Escort

★☆

Surprise, surprise. More blue boxes.

Fetch quests are the baby quests to start with, right? It can’t be that bad. I have no fucking idea what “Saga of Xyla” is but saga sounds fantasy-esque.

I decide to try and get more info and say out loud “Saga of Xyla.”

Start Quest in Saga of Xyla?

“Woah, woah, woah. Easy girl.” I stammer out quickly. “Okay, let’s just..”

As soon as “Okay” leaves my lips, another box pops up.

Initiating Quest in 3

“Stop stop stop stop stop” I yell over and over at the screen.

2

“You’re doing this on purpose.”

1

“Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu”

Initializing Quest

“uuuuuuck Yoooooooo”

My voice cuts off as my vision fades and I pass out once again. Blissfully migraine free.