The bell jangled as the door opened.

There was the sound of singing from deep inside the store, but the bellowing laughter of the group that entered immediately drowned it out. They barely fit inside the cramped store. Every available surface was covered with trinkets, each one precisely laid out. Random things glittered and sparkled. The wooden shelves creaked in protest under the burden, like the belt of a distant relative after their second helping of Sunday dinner. One wrong move and the whole place might burst from the seams. It was the kind of place a dragon would be proud of.

The four new customers filled up what little space remained, with Gregory huddled in the centre. He was small compared to the trolls on either side of him, but then most people were. His face twitched compulsively as his eyes darted around, taking in all the potential loot. His current class was thief, and he was always keen to practice.

The wizard was the elder of the group and had the weary expression to prove it. He pulled his elbows in to avoid knocking anything over. “For the record, I don’t think this is a good idea. If you’ve genuinely found something, we should go back to HQ and let your father know. He has people to handle this sort of thing.”

The wizard knew that, because he used to be one of them, before he got stuck on babysitting duty.

“There’s nothing in this area we can’t handle, Joe. This whole zone is for noobs and tryhards. Everyone here is barely level 20.”

“I understand, but we should play it safe.”

“Fuck that,” Gregory said, puffing out his pigeon chest.

“You know how your father feels about that kind of language,” Joe said for the millionth time. Arthur had many pet peeves, and swearing was high on the list.

“Dad won’t give two shits about my language when we come back with a brand-new artifact!”

Joe the wizard rolled his eyes, carefully pausing the expression-tracking software to prevent his avatar from doing the same. Gregory was still young and full of stupid, but he was also the boss’s son. One slip-up, mistake or wrong word, and Joe would be looking for alternative employment. That even went so far as the kid’s name. Arthur had been very clear about the dire consequences facing anyone that dared to refer to his son as Greg. Yet another one of his pet peeves.

Arthur didn’t tolerate mistakes. Joe had been lucky, when he finally messed up he’d been senior enough in the guild to remain employed, albeit with a demotion to babysitter. There were countless others that had come before him, all tripping over each other to be Arthur’s second in command, but the old man found fault in all of them. That was what he did, and he was very, very good at it. So good that sometimes he found problems that weren’t even there. It was almost like he was looking for an excuse to get rid of anyone even vaguely competent.

So now Joe was stuck with Gregory. His colleagues got to go on epic raids, slay legendary monsters, or battle with the other guilds. The only thing Joe got to battle was a teenager’s temper. That and anyone that took a disliking to the kid, which was pretty much everyone that met him. The boy had an uncanny knack for getting into trouble, which was why Joe had to tag along. He was babysitter and bodyguard rolled into one.

Thankfully, Gregory didn’t log on very often these days, but the moment he did, Joe got the message.

We need you back at Blitzer HQ.

Usually Gregory just wanted to goof around and troll casuals, but today he’d come up with the bright idea to go artifact hunting. Joe hadn’t argued. He was more than happy for Gregory to waste his time looking for artifacts. It would keep him occupied. It was common knowledge that the major guilds had squirrelled away most of the artifacts in the game, with the Blitzers and the Kriegers having the lion’s share. Only a handful were unaccounted for, and the chances of finding one in the huge map were next to none.

It was supposed to be an easy way to pass a few hours with relatively little grief.

At least, that was what should have happened.

Of course, Gregory had found something, which made Joe’s life difficult. For a start, he now had to explain to Arthur why he’d signed out the Tablet from the vault. It was an artifact for finding artifacts, and as such, was one of the most valuable items in the game. Joe had brought along the heavy muscle as extra insurance, but he’d hoped to just quietly sign the Tablet back in without Arthur ever knowing it was gone. Now the only way that Joe was going to keep his head was if they brought back something shiny to distract the boss.

Gregory was oblivious to Joe’s impending career catastrophe. He was too busy worrying about himself. He angrily tapped at the stone tablet in his hands. It was the size of an open book, and no one could see what was on it except the person wielding it. He tried a pinching motion and said, “I know it’s in here somewhere, but this stupid thing won’t zoom. Fix it.” He casually tossed the priceless artifact to Joe, who caught it and audibly exhaled with relief.

“It doesn’t have zoom. You’ll need to look for the item in question.” Joe said, slipping the Tablet into his inventory. He felt a little better knowing that it was in safe hands. Artifacts always dropped when the player holding them died, and Gregory had a nasty habit of starting fights he had no hope of winning.

Joe had no such concerns. He was a max-level wizard. Not only that, the guild had equipped him with top-tier gear and a state-of-the-art VR rig. To top it off, he wore the distinct purple robes that identified him as a member of the Blitzer guild. Anyone that had been playing the game for longer than ten minutes knew not to pick a fight with a Blitzer. You’d have to be a total imbecile. Arthur didn’t forgive, and he never forgot. If you started a fight with his guild then he made certain to finish it. He was cold and calculating, a ruthless, ravenous piranha that devoured anything that stood in his way, stripping it to the bone.

“I can’t be arsed to go through all this crap. You find it,” said Gregory. He was not a piranha, he was much more akin to a mosquito. He buzzed around, getting on everyone’s nerves. He tried to take stuff that wasn’t his, before inevitably someone tried to swat him. The worst part was, he believed himself to be an apex predator, which was easy to do with a pair of very large trolls standing behind you.

Joe was tired of being bossed around by a teenager. He spoke through gritted teeth, “Maybe you could ask the shopkeeper? He might know if there’s a priceless artifact in the store.”

It looked for a moment like Gregory might dig his heels in and have a little sulk, but then he spotted the small green leprechaun standing behind the wooden counter and a wicked grin spread across his face. One thing that never failed to cheer him up was tormenting NPCs, and leprechauns were his favourite. “Oy! Paddy O’Reilly, how about some service?”

The A.I. controlled characters in the game were generally smart enough to know when they were being summoned, but this one was apparently glitching. He completely ignored the request and instead stared at something behind the counter.

That made Gregory even happier. It gave him an excuse to go slap the NPC around a bit, not that he needed one. As he strutted towards the shopkeeper, he spotted something on a shelf. A small musket pistol, with a faded grey barrel. Gregory beamed as he picked it up. “Hey Joe, check this out. I’m a gunslinger.”

“Sure thing,” the wizard replied, not even pretending to humour the boy. Gregory couldn’t focus to save his life. The last thing Joe needed was to go through another Gregory class change. Every time the lad decided he wanted to try something different, Joe had to endure the line of idiots that mistook him for a new player and tried to grief him. It was exhausting.

Gregory span the pistol on his finger. “How come no-one ever uses guns? They are way cooler than fireballs. No offence.”

Joe took a deep breath and tried not to raise his voice. Babysitting Gregory also came with the job of part-time tutor. “Pistols aren’t a good choice for most classes. They put out decent damage per shot, especially if you land a headshot, which quadruples the damage, but that requires a lot of skill, as the shots aren’t hitscan.”

“English Joe, I’m not a nerd like you.”

“The shot isn’t instant. It actually has to travel to the target, which means you have to lead your shots, and take momentum and gravity into account. Add in limited range and the ten-second reload time and pistols are a poor choice for most circumstances. Some people carry them as a last-resort weapon, or for pistol duels, but most experienced players don’t want to waste the weapon slot.”

Gregory nodded. “Well, I think it’s cool, so I’m going to get it.”

“How much is it?” Joe asked, forgetting that Gregory didn’t have to worry about such things. Gold was hard to earn and required considerable grinding, but Gregory got a generous allowance every time he visited his dad. It was a price Arthur was happy to pay to keep his son occupied.

“Don’t worry about the price, it’s free!” Gregory said, slipping the pistol into his coat. He passed the skill check to deceive the shopkeeper.

Gregory turned and bumped into the leprechaun, which was a surprise, as the shopkeeper was much further away a moment ago. The NPC was two-thirds regular height, although the tall green hat with the golden buckle almost made up the difference. His suit was bright green, and included a matching green tie, which clashed with his bright-ginger hair. There was a small four-leafed clover pinned to the lapel of his jacket, which was a nice touch. He almost looked professional, except for the buckled shoes and knee-length socks, which were green with white stripes.

Movement in his peripheral made Gregory flinch, as a baby dragon glided across the store and landed on the shopkeeper’s shoulder. It was the most amazing hue of colours, an iridescent rainbow that shimmered as the dragon moved. It curled itself around the leprechaun’s neck and its piercing black eyes peered at Gregory.

The small green man held out his hand. “Put the pistol back, or pay for it, please.” The voice didn’t match the character. It was deep and serious. The developers weren’t even trying.

“What pistol?” Gregory said. He checked his log. He had definitely passed the skill check, so there was no way the shopkeeper had detected the theft.

“The one you just slipped into your coat.”

Gregory squinted at the Leprechaun and noticed that he had an orange name tag. Max. The shopkeeper was a player, not an NPC. That at least explained how he’d noticed the theft. Gregory didn’t remember ever seeing anyone actually playing as a leprechaun before. It was a junk class, something the devs had put in as a joke to make money every St. Patrick’s Day. Gregory was used to hanging out in high-level areas, where the players were all maxed out. A leprechaun wouldn’t last 5 seconds in that kind of environment.

A closer look confirmed that the shopkeeper’s level showed ???

Only noobs hid their level. Anyone with half-decent stats made sure everyone else could see them, to discourage PVP griefing.

A large smirk spread across Gregory’s face. This was even more fun than taunting an NPC. He got to torment an actual person. He reached down and poked the leprechaun in the chest. “What exactly are you going to do about it, Max?”

“I’m going to ask nicely one more time. Then I will ask less nicely.”

Gregory laughed and turned to Joe. “Get a load of Potatoes McBig Bollocks over here.”

Joe sighed. He walked over to the shopkeeper and said, “How much for the pistol?”

Before Max could answer, Gregory said, “Hold on Joe, I want to see what this guy is going to do about it.”

Joe turned to Gregory. “Remember why we came here. Do you really want to jeopardize that for a low-level pistol?”

He waited for the answer. It was hard to predict which way Gregory would go. It was a coin flip if he’d back down or go nuclear. Teenagers were unpredictable like that. Joe charged up a fireball behind his back, just in case.

Gregory’s face contorted. The game did an impressive job of mapping his real-world expression onto his avatar, down to the pouting. After a lengthy pause he reached into his coat and pulled out the pistol, tossing it back onto the shelf. “Keep your junk. We’re looking for something else.”

“Perhaps I can help you find it? What is it you’re after?” The response was strained, as if the leprechaun was holding back.

“How much for the pet?” Gregory pointed at the baby dragon. He reached out to pet it under the chin, and the dragon snapped at him.

“She’s not for sale.”

“Why not? Is it limited edition or something? I haven’t seen one that colour before.”

“She’s one of a kind.”

Gregory squinted, thinking things through. Pets were soul bound. There was no way to take one without the owner consenting, even for a thief. They couldn’t be looted either, so killing the leprechaun wouldn’t solve that problem. It didn’t mean that Gregory wasn’t considering it anyway.

Joe twitched. Gregory wasn’t used to hearing no for an answer, and prior experience suggested that a fight was imminent. He glanced at the two trolls. They slowly ambled towards the boy, so they could close the gap in a hurry if necessary. They barely fit between the shelves, but that didn’t stop them. Several items clattered loudly to the ground.

This was not the place for a fight, although it wouldn’t last long enough to be a problem.

Gregory shrugged. “Suit yourself. I’m not much of a pet guy.”

Joe relaxed. The shopkeeper had no idea how big of a bullet he’d just dodged. Gregory was showing unusual levels of restraint, which either meant he was learning and growing as a human being, or far more likely, that he was saving it all up for a spectacular meltdown later. Hopefully much later, when Joe was far away.

Gregory continued his leisurely stroll around the store, with the leprechaun keeping a wary eye on him. The baby dragon hummed a tune, with a voice far more melodic than its appearance suggested. Max reached up and pet the creature gently under its chin, and the singing died down.

Gregory slowly made his way over to the counter. There were several epic items, neatly laid out inside a glass display case. He peered inside and said, “What’s this stuff?”

“That’s a full set of epic Paladin gear,” the shopkeeper replied wearily.

“How much for the lot?”

“It’s not for sale.” He gestured to the large sign above the display case that said exactly that.

“Another thing I can’t buy! I’m starting to think you don’t know how shops work. What is for sale in here?”

“Everything else.”

Gregory huffed. “I don’t want any of that shit. I want this. It’s the only decent stuff in the store.”

“As I said, it isn’t for sale.”

“And why not?” asked Gregory.

“It has sentimental value.” The strain in Max’s voice was more evident now. Joe picked up on it, and started moving around to get a better angle. It appeared as if the leprechaun was about to do something monumentally stupid.

“Are you crying?” Gregory asked with a snigger.

His ability to make things worse was staggering.

Max’s expression hardened, and his eyes narrowed. “I think it’s time for you chaps to leave.” The wavering in his voice was gone, and replaced with something far scarier. He tapped the dragon on the head and it unwrapped itself from around his neck. It glided over to a perch behind the counter and landed silently, its head swivelling to follow its owner. It was suddenly alert.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Joe placed his hand on Gregory’s shoulder. “You heard him. Time to leave.”

“Fuck that, I’m not going back empty-handed. The blip has to be something in that display case, it’s the only stuff that isn’t noob gear.”

“We can come back another time.” Joe just hoped Gregory would get the hint. They could come back with twenty guys, and preferably without a walking liability.

Gregory either didn’t pick up on it, or he ignored it. He turned his attention back to Max. “Enough playing around. We want your artifact.”

Max scowled. “As you said, all my stuff is junk. No artifacts for sale here, kid.”

“Who said anything about buying it?”

“I’m done asking nicely now. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“You don’t know who you’re messing with!” Gregory said, puffing his chest out like a pigeon in mating season.

“Based on the colour of your gear, you’re Blitzers, but you aren’t acting like them. You guys are supposed to be pros, but here you are, behaving like thugs. I don’t care what you do outside, but in here, this is my little piece of the game. I will defend it if required to do so, but I’m hoping your wizard friend can talk some sense into you. Someone certainly needs to.”

Joe sighed. He didn’t need to wait and see what happened next. He’d been in this situation dozens of times before. Before Gregory had even drawn his weapon, the wizard brought his hand around, fireball ready to go. He’d fully expected to catch the leprechaun by surprise, but instead, the small green man was suddenly wielding a musket pistol. This was nothing like the rusty junk Gregory had tried to steal earlier. This pistol had a golden sheen. That meant it was a legendary item.

There wasn’t time to ponder the circumstances in which a lowly shopkeeper in the middle of nowhere had acquired something so valuable. Joe could inspect the pistol more closely when the leprechaun was dead. He released the fully charged fireball. It raced down the cramped aisle at incredible speed. It was a straight shot. The plucky little fellow didn’t stand a chance.

The fireball smashed into the space behind the counter where the shopkeeper had been standing seconds earlier. With a blur of speed and a flash of rainbow colours, Max was now off to the left. He’d triggered a dash move at the very last moment. It was a lucky escape, although his luck was about to run out.

The fireball, annoyed that it hadn’t hit its target, took solace in the fact that it had instead slammed into a large wooden wall. The game designers took great pride in their realistic destruction engine, and this store was a giant box of kindling. Flames gnawed into the wall and took hold.

If Max was concerned about the growing inferno, he didn’t show it. He raised the pistol and fired at Gregory in one smooth motion. It would have connected if the troll hadn’t barged the boy out of the way at the last moment and tanked the hit in the chest. It did an impressive amount of damage. Too much. It had to be a critical hit.

The other troll moved to create a wall of muscle between the leprechaun and Gregory. In the confined space of the shop Max didn’t stand a chance. He’d eventually be cornered and the trolls would merrily club him to death. He wouldn’t even have time to reload.

Another shot rang out, and the injured troll fell down, dead.

Joe froze. That wasn’t right. Max must have multiple pistols to fire so quickly, but even then, he was doing too much damage. These trolls were Blitzer tanks; they had the best gear available and hundreds of hours of practice. They knew how to handle themselves. So why was one of them dead already?

Even a headshot wouldn’t have been enough, unless it had also been a critical hit, but that was highly unlikely. Crits averaged out at one in every hundred hits, so it was extremely rare to get two in a row.

A memory tickled at the back of Joe’s brain. Something about the leprechaun class getting a boost to their base luck stat. That would improve the odds of a critical hit, but not by much. He might have another item or two that added a few more points of luck, but it shouldn’t be enough to make a noticeable difference.

Still, it didn’t matter. A player could only carry two pistols, so the little bastard was definitely out of shots now. Even so, it would be wise to leave and regroup, before the flames engulfed them all. Joe already had too much explaining to do without having to tell Arthur he’d lost the Tablet in a flame-grilled party wipe.

“Gregory!” he yelled, being mindful to use his full name, but the youth wasn’t listening. He’d picked the lock on the display case and was rummaging through it, completely ignoring the raging inferno a few feet away.

“Stop!” the leprechaun bellowed. Joe watched as Max reloaded a pistol. Then something strange happened. The reload animation glitched, and didn’t complete. He’d never seen that before. Must be a poor connection. That was the kind of thing amateur players had to worry about.

Max aimed at Gregory, but the remaining troll got in the way, charging at the shopkeeper, club raised.

Joe wasn’t expecting what happened next. Max fired, and landed another headshot, and another critical hit. It was almost enough to kill the troll in one shot, and trolls were one of the toughest classes in the game.

That sealed it. Something bad was happening, and Joe was not keen on sticking around long enough to find out what. He rushed over to Gregory and grabbed him. The haptic gloves did a convincing job of mimicking the contact. Joe wished they would recreate a slap so he could beat some sense into the kid. “We’re leaving!”

“Fuck off Joe,” Gregory said. He scooped up a dagger from the case and equipped it. The blade glowed white with holy energy. That was odd, because Gregory was a less than holy class. There was no way he should be able to wield it.

“Let me see that,” Joe said.

“No chance!” Gregory replied, staring at the weapon, his face lit up by the glow. He grinned, casting eerie shadows on the rest of his face. “This thing looks badass. I want to see what it can do.”

“No!” Joe shouted, but it was already too late. Gregory charged headlong into battle without the briefest of thoughts. He was literally bringing a knife to a gunfight.

Joe watched as Max raised the pistol once more. The wizard hadn’t seen him reload it, but based on what he’d already witnessed, it was best to assume it was ready to fire.

The remaining troll had finally gotten his head back in the game and was also charging at Max.

Max was forced to choose between the genuine threat of the troll, or the knife-wielding moron sprinting right at him.

He chose correctly.

The troll collapsed, dead, just as Gregory reached Max. Before the thief could land a hit, the leprechaun used his dash move again to escape to the corner of the room. Joe got to see it properly this time. It left a rainbow streak in the air to show which way he’d gone. There wasn’t time to admire his reflexes though; Max was already reloading.

Joe unleashed another fireball, hoping that the leprechauns dodge move had a cooldown. It must have, because Max didn’t use his dash again. Instead he used a standard roll to get out of the way, narrowly avoiding the projectile. Unfortunately, he was pinned in the corner, so the only direction available to roll was towards Gregory. The thief found the target heading his way and brought the dagger down hard.

There was another rainbow flash, and for a moment Joe thought that Max had dashed again, until he saw the baby dragon fall to the ground. It had swooped down from its perch and blocked the attack at the last second. That was unusual behaviour for a pet, who weren’t particularly smart. Stranger still, it was acting injured. Pets didn’t have health; they were purely decorative. As Joe watched, the dragon glitched in and out of the game, and then it fell still, the colour drained from its body.

The only thing paler was the look on the leprechaun’s face. He fell to his knees. Then he let out a bloodcurdling wail.

The sound was so guttural and raw that Gregory felt genuine guilt. He had no desire to still be here when Max snapped out of it.

Without saying a word to Joe, he turned and ran for the exit, still clutching the dagger.

“Are you kidding me!” Joe said, watching the teenager abandon him without a second thought. He started moving toward the door, suddenly aware that the wailing had stopped. A quick glance confirmed Max was now standing, calmly reloading his pistol. Whatever sadness had briefly engulfed him was gone, replaced with an icy-cold glare. He locked eyes on Joe and aimed the pistol.

Joe realized he wouldn’t escape in time, so he did the first thing that came to mind. He threw up a wall of ice to block the shot, just as he heard it ring out. With any luck, the wall would stay in place long enough to trap the little green menace inside his store while he burned to death.

Joe stumbled out of the exit and into the street, where a crowd of onlookers had already gathered. No-one seemed sure what to do. There wasn’t an in-game fire service, but a few witches and wizards were doing their part by casting water spells at the store. It was unclear if they were having any impact on the blaze, but it certainly looked impressive.

An onlooker rushed over to Joe. “Are you ok? What happened? Is there anyone still inside?”

Joe pushed the stranger aside and kept running. There was no sign of Gregory anywhere. He was long gone. He was probably back in Blitzer HQ, showing off his prize. Joe would join him, but not right now. He would log off for a few hours, until Arthur had a chance to calm down. There would still be a punishment, there were always consequences, but a few hours could be the difference between a swift execution and being banished from the guild. Death was temporary, a ban was forever.

He fumbled bringing up the menu in his HUD as he tried to log off. He expected the usual black screen to appear, but instead a warning message popped up:

You are still in active combat. If you log out now, your avatar will remain.

He glanced at the corner of his HUD and saw the countdown timer. There were 23 seconds remaining. He hadn’t been out of combat long enough. If he tried leaving now, his avatar would stand around idly for the rest of the timer, free to be killed and looted. It was to discourage tactical logouts when someone was losing a PVP battle, which was exactly what he was trying to do.

Which meant he didn’t have the luxury of standing around. If Max somehow survived the fire, he’d be out here any second, guns blazing. One shot in Joe’s general direction and the timer would start again. Joe had to make sure Max had nothing to shoot at for twenty more seconds, which meant putting as much distance as he could between himself and the angry leprechaun. The wizard moved towards the crowd of onlookers, hoping that maybe he could get lost amongst them until the timer ran down.

Just as Joe entered the group, there was a gasp from the surrounding players. He risked a peek over his shoulder and saw the slightly charred shopkeeper burst out of the shop with a rainbow flash just as the roof collapsed. Max scanned the square, his eyes narrowed. He was hunting.

Joe felt the icy chill of fear. Not of Max, that was ridiculous. It was hard to be afraid of a leprechaun. What scared him was Arthur. One lucky critical hit headshot from a pistol and Joe would die, leaving the Tablet lying on the ground. There would be no recovering from losing the most precious artifact the Blitzers owned. No amount of babysitting was going to make things right. Arthur wouldn’t hesitate to boot Joe from the guild, which meant he’d be out on the streets.

He wasn’t about to let that happen.

Standing and fighting was the logical thing to do. PVP, man on man, an old-school duel, pistols at dawn.

Joe conjured up a spell. His hands moved quickly in a practiced pattern as the blue glow formed. The longer he could charge it, the better.

The movement caught Max’s attention. He raised his pistol, but there were bystanders blocking his shot. They screamed and scrambled to get out of the way.

Joe was out of time. It wasn’t as strong as he’d hoped, but it would have to do.

The blue circle appeared just as Max fired the pistol. The wizard stepped through it, narrowly avoiding the headshot.

Joe reappeared a hundred meters away, on top of a nearby hilltop. It wasn’t nearly far enough, but it was as much distance as he’d been able to manage in the available time. The longer he charged the spell, the further he could travel, but the longer the portal remained open. It was designed for small groups to move around easily, but there was nothing stopping enemies or even mobs from using it too.

Joe look over his shoulder, staring into the portal, which showed the village square he’d just escaped from. Max raced towards it, reloading the pistol as he ran. Joe rolled out of the line of fire just as the grass where he was standing exploded. That was two near misses in as many seconds. Joe risked another glance, hoping that Max wouldn’t have time to reload again. The leprechaun was almost at the portal. His dash move would be off cool down any moment, and he was close enough now that it would be enough…

Max dived as the portal squeezed out of existence. He didn’t make it through.

Joe glanced down the hill as the leprechaun jumped back to his feet, looked around, and then spotted him. Max immediately started running towards Joe, straight up the hill, reloading as he went.

Joe threw a couple of fireballs in his general direction, but they were more deterrents than actual threats. Even downhill, they were unlikely to reach Max, but they served as a useful reminder that Joe had the high ground. The pistol didn’t have the range to reach him. If Joe wanted to he could stand up here and rain death down upon his stubborn pursuer.

He stopped himself before he unleashed another one. Fun as a flaming barrage would be, he’d seen Max’s reactions. Catching him with an errant projectile from this distance was unlikely. It would only waste precious MP.

All the PVP experience and tournaments had taught him how to win a fight, but Joe didn’t need to win this one, he simply had to survive it. He couldn’t risk dying. The optimal strategy was to continue his escape. Max wouldn’t make it up the hill in time. All Joe had to do was logout.

He was about to when he noticed the timer. It had been reset. The near misses had counted as a continuation of the fight.

There were fifty-three seconds remaining.

It would be close. The dash was the unknown variable. Joe had a vague sense of the cooldown, but he’d only seen it used in the confines of the shop. If Max could trigger it more frequently, or cover a greater distance, then he might make it up here before the logout timer was done. All he had to do was get within pistol range and the combat timer would start all over again.

That meant sticking around wasn’t an option. The good news was, he didn’t have to. The cooldown on his portal spell wasn’t long. He’d cast the weakest version, which only required twenty seconds to use again. What he needed was a destination, somewhere that he’d be safe.

A glance at the map confirmed there was a Blitzer safe house in the next village over, which would be the perfect place to logout. Then he could start thinking of plausible excuses to save his bacon. Gregory had likely already given his version of events to Arthur, and it wouldn’t paint Joe in a positive light. Joe had not received any angry messages, but Arthur wasn’t always the sort to show his hand. Sometimes the first you knew of him being mad at you was when he threw you out of his office, typically straight off the balcony.

Still, it could be much, much worse. They had discovered a new artifact, one which they could retrieve at their leisure. It would be much easier to find whilst he wasn’t in a gunfight. Max probably didn’t even know what he had, but by the time he’d figured it out, he’d wish he hadn’t. There was now a bullseye on his garish green back, one that not even death could erase.

Joe grinned. Maybe he could get back into Arthur’s good books by leading the search party himself. It would be easy to find the artifact in the smouldering ashes of the store. He hoped Max would be around to try and stop them. The leprechaun wouldn’t know what hit him.

***

Max ran, his short legs propelling him as fast as they could. One look up the hill told him he wouldn’t make it. The wizard had frozen for a moment, which meant he was in the menu system, probably trying to logout. As soon as the combat timer expired, he would be gone.

Which wouldn’t be such a bad thing. Max wasn’t thinking straight. He’d let his grief turn to anger. It always happened so quickly. Picking a fight with the Blitzers was the absolute last thing he should do, but here he was, doing it anyway. There were certainly easier ways to self-destruct.

He didn’t care about the wizard, but what he did care about was what the kid had given to him. That stone tablet had led the Blitzers to his shop in search of an artifact, which meant he’d never be able to sneak up on them as long as they had it. He could solve two problems at once, take away their early warning system and also gain some leverage. If he was going to get the dagger back, he’d need something worthwhile to barter with.

On paper it was a simple trade. The problems would start if Arthur found out where the dagger had come from. A brief description would be more than enough. There weren’t exactly a bevy of pistol-toting leprechauns stomping around the server. Arthur was smart. He’d put two and two together, and realize what he had. Something that Max wanted. It was exactly the sort of leverage Arthur would use to his favour. He’d conjure up a reasonable-sounding trade, some small favour that Max could do for him, and before he knew it he’d be right back into the thick of things, always just one more job away from getting the dagger back. From there, it was only a matter of time. The temptation to slip back into his old life, his life from before, would be too strong.

A surgical strike. That was what he needed. In and out, no negotiation. It was a low-level dagger with no intrinsic value except sentimental. If Max had something priceless in exchange, it would be a simple business transaction, another line on the Blitzer profit-and-loss sheet. An easy trade.

Which meant he needed that tablet.

The wizard had not yet logged out, which could only mean that the timer had reset. That was a stroke of luck, but it was too early to celebrate. He could still teleport away with his portal spell. The previous short hop would have barely triggered a cooldown.

What Max needed to do was close the distance. Rainbow Step wouldn’t be enough. He needed something quicker. He whistled, hoping that the stables were close enough. After a few seconds, the brown and white Clydesdale came into view, charging straight for him down the busy street. Several onlookers jumped out of the way as the enormous horse barrelled towards them, on the most direct path to its master. Max didn’t wait for it to stop. He held out his hand and caught the reins as it ran past.

He pulled himself up onto the horse in one swift motion. The sudden burst of speed triggered a brief bout of motion sickness, and Max had to close his eyes for a moment to acclimatize. He was out of practice. It had been a long time since he’d been in hot pursuit of a target, and only muscle memory was getting him through. It would have to be enough. He patted the horse on the neck and yelled, “Faster, Dale!”

Max tightened his grip on the haptic gloves, fighting against the servos and spurring Dale to speed up. He only had to get close enough to reset the logout timer, or at least force the wizard to engage. Then he would have to choose between fight or flight, and it wasn’t hard to guess which option he would pick.

Max estimated that around ten seconds was left on the wizard’s combat timer. It was going to be close.

Based on the panicked flailing of the wizard, he’d realized the same thing. He stared intently at Max, bouncing up and down on the spot, doing the same calculation. Velocity vs distance vs time. Who was going to win? It was too close to call.

Max let go of the reins with one hand. He drew his pistol and aimed in the wizard’s general direction. He was far outside of the weapon’s range, but that didn’t matter. This was a hand grenade situation. Close was good enough. He just needed the game to think that the wizard was still in a fight. The question was, how long could he wait? The closer he got, the more likely it would trigger a combat status, but too long and the wizard would logout for good.

Max hesitated as long as he dared before firing, aiming high to get a little extra distance. The shot landed a foot away from his target, kicking up a chunk of grass and making the wizard jump.

The leprechaun let go of the reins with his other hand to risk a reload. If that shot wasn’t close enough the wizard would vanish in a cloud of pixels any second now. Incase he didn’t, Max wanted to make sure he was ready to fight.

He heard the cursing from the top of the hill. It must have worked, because the wizard started casting a spell. He wouldn’t engage if he could escape. That was the good news.

The bad news was that the wizard had both the height and range advantage. Dale was quick, but he wasn’t agile. He preferred to charge through obstacles. Dodging projectiles was going to be a challenge.

Joe had other plans. He waved his hands and another portal appeared. This one was larger than the last one. That meant the exit portal was far away enough that Max wouldn’t be able to see where he went. That was effectively the same as the wizard logging out. He’d be gone for good.

Max aimed his freshly reloaded pistol. His only hope was a long-distance headshot, but it was uphill, from a moving horse and at the very edge of his effective range.

Joe waved his other hand and an ice wall burst from the ground ahead. For a brief moment, it appeared he was trying to block the shot. Then Max realized it wasn’t the shot he was blocking.

The huge Clydesdale smashed into the wall, sending shards of ice flying everywhere, followed shortly by Max. The sudden deceleration ejected the leprechaun from the saddle. As he sailed through the air he took aim and fired his pistol.

The wizard dove through the portal before the shot impacted. It was a narrow escape, and now Max had a fresh problem. He was about to land, and it wouldn’t be pretty. The game physics took momentum into account for impacts, and the speed he was travelling meant he was about to suffer what was best described as horizontal fall damage. It very well might be enough to kill him.

Unless.

He was sailing towards the portal, which was now closing. It wasn’t a direct shot, but if he could time it exactly right…

Max triggered Rainbow Step, changing his trajectory and accelerating him through the portal, just as it closed.