In the myriad of video games ever published since the dawn of its inception, one thing has always been a staple, a given, when it comes to this form of entertainment.

Be it whether you’re 360 no-scoping down n00bs in an FPS, or clicking rapidly past filler-dialogues on your way to the next romance flag in a visual novel, or even as you creep warily with bated breath through a spooky walking simulator, you’ll always encounter it sooner rather than later.

A wall. A big glaring middle finger to all the joy and fun you were having.

Any form of progress you’ve been ascending up to like some sort of escalator abruptly halts to a standstill and you’re stuck there wondering eternally what you’re doing wrong, not knowing whether you’re just stupid or an idiot.

In my case, I have four walls that surrounded me, taunting me endlessly with its straining glow. It hurts to even look at it. Twenty or so odd minutes spent scouring around this tiny cell looking for a way to exit was an endeavor that proved fruitless.

Least in those games, a quick search for a walkthrough or a “git-gud mlg tipz and trickz” video will eventually send that wall topping over.

For me though, my walls are as solid as the world’s economy so I’m screwed.

Wait, bad example, nevermind that.

Let’s just say my “git-gud” guide is in the form of a woman, who is also the literal dictionary definition of mischief and deceit.

“Wait, Sora… I think you missed a spot on the wall over there.” She said, a mocking finger pointing towards my left. “Touch it, come on, touch it… this escape room must have an exit somewhere.”

Our little skirmish, if you can even call it that, ended with me opting for the silent treatment, choosing to bear her ever-scornful gaze as she sat there, instilling silent judgment upon me with every empty find.

The stare I projected towards her, as I walked to her suggested direction, was filled to the brink with unsaid profanities too crude to even mention in this novel.

A snicker, another goddamn snicker, left her curved lips, “Wow, didn’t think you’d actually listen to me. Must be getting desperate.”

If my virtual self had veins, they’d be popping like bubble wrap and I’d be hemorrhaging enough to flood a city.

“Do you ever just shut up? Yap-Yapping away like some goddamn toy in a happy meal.” I muttered, finally letting my displeasure be heard instead of seen.

“Oh, you wound me,” She said lazily, sarcasm at full throttle. “Funnily enough, those words did more harm to me than you ever did.”

Ignore her, ignore her. That was all I kept telling myself, to prevent frustrations from erupting past me, to make sure she doesn’t get the satisfaction of seeing it happen before her eyes.

Then my hands found only another solid wall hiding no exit, and I thought: Well, screw it.

“ARGGHH DAMN IT!”

A maddening shout that would make even a mentally insane person proud. But it gave me an idea and I collected another heavy breath.

“System Command,” I uttered, staring upwards to the ceiling like I’m expecting some omnipotent being to be listening to me. “Exit Developer Room!”

Nothing. Even after a minute’s departure, still nothing. Nothing except for the echoing applause from an unwelcome audience member.

“Good try. That would have work. Except, unfortunately, not everyone has permission to order the game around to do their bidding.”

I didn’t want to talk to her. I rather get stomped by a horse than do so. But beggars can’t be choosers.

“Who in their right mind would give you - emphasis on the ‘you’ - permission?” I snarled.

“Let’s just say I’m more resourceful than you think.”

“Get me out of here. Now.”

“Answer my question, and I’ll let you go bye-bye.”

It took every fiber in my being to refrain from choking her with her own hair. It took everything to just stand there, and let out a small strangled hiss of compliance.

“What do you want to know?”

She jumped to her feet. “Well for starters, why didn’t you use the sword during your one-sided beatdown?”

I looked at her, wondering if she’s being intentionally dense. “You saw the sword’s requirements already, why are you even asking me this? You need me to spell it out for you? Alright here: I AM LEVEL 4.”

“You don’t need to meet a weapon’s requirements to use it. Just a lotta effort and energy. You had both. To add even further, your Loliguy seemed to be under the impression that you have used it before.”

Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

I turned away from her, sighing. She knows. Why am I even - she already knows.

“You know what I think?” She asked, twirling herself into view once more. “You attack too slow with the weapon, you think I might manage to steal it from you and keep it for myself. Oh-ho, if I did then you’ll really be in trouble.”

I can’t bear to look at her smug expression anymore.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” She said and reached for my shoulder. She actually had the audacity - the damn nerves - to pat me on the shoulder. “Fortunately for you Sora, I don’t want it.”

I brushed the foreign disgusting thing off me. “You don’t want it?”

“Yeah, no desire whatsoever,” She said, her twitchy little fingers obtaining another imposing grip on my shoulder.

Oh, this bitch...

“But it’s not like you’re not going to give it to anyone, are you?” She continued, deliberately ignoring the aggravation flushing my face red. “It’s your only leverage from all those people who blame you. Once that’s gone, what’s stopping a mob of confused, angry individuals from murdering you in cold blood?”

The lengthy stride her hand flew from contact with myself as I yeeted it away was a good measurement of how much I revile her touch.

Yet that only seemed to amuse her further. “Hence, that sword is like a curse that will be with you till death abruptly does you part.”

The hoarseness of my groan, the twitching of my eyebrows - anger rose up to prominence once more, “Don’t you have anything better to do than to spout exposition I already know? Who are you explaining all of these things to anyway?!”

She raised her hands. “Just making sure I got the story straight.”

Another frustrated sigh, mild throbbing wreaking havoc in my cluttered head, a stress that grew exponentially worse with every passing second.

You wanna take a guess who’s responsible for that?

Seeking comfort, a caressing hand planted itself onto my forehead. “You don’t want my sword. You don’t want to kill me. So, why the hell did you fight me?”

“Ah, I was hoping you’d ask me that!” She spoke enthusiastically. “I wanted to test you. See how well you’d do against another player if you had to.”

“Oh, so it’s a test. Ah, you were testing me, I see,” I nodded my head vigorously, “So just how well did I do, Sensei?”

Arishia spurred herself to motion, posing and maintaining the stance of a cheerleader, her hand reaching for the high heavens, thumb and forefinger curving into the shape of a perfect circle.

“Ta-da! Zero points!” proclaimed the fervor in her voice.

“Wow!” bellowed I, a tone-deaf clapping of my hands sprinkling slight pain to my palms with every thunderous clap. ”Very cool! That’s like… the number behind one - that’s super impressive, man!”

A broad grin on her face conveyed a shared sentiment. “I know, right? That’s why I think you’ll be absolutely delighted to see what comes next!”

My clapping ceased at once. “Comes next? What - you’re saying there’s more?”

"Let's face it, Sora. At your current pace, you won’t last another week here. Too low level for a proper duel, too low level for an actual fight. I can’t stab you without worrying you might die - and I really want to stab you.”

At the mention of ‘stab’, I withdrew a few steps, and braced for any signs of open hostility. Fortunately, the only provocative thing I detected was her continued existence, but you can never be too careful.

“Well, I’m grateful for your concern over my potential as a pin-cushion,” I said, eyeing her closely. “But I think I’ll last a bit longer if I never see you again. Thanks anyway, mom.”

Mischief was a distinct glimmer in her crimson eyes, a sinister sparkle that did not bode well for me.

“I need you strong, Sora.”

Not at all.

“So I’ll make you strong.”

Before I could even blink, she spoke out again, her voice resonating through the desolate air, firm and strong.

“System Command: Exit Developer Room!”

Her command was dutifully executed by an immediate glow that pervaded every inch of space, a brightening that engulfed the both of us with glaring blue light.

I felt the sensation of teleportation and immediately alarms bells came ringing.

“Stop, wait, what are you doing?”

What greeted me was a confused expression. “Huh? We’re leaving the dev room. I’m making your one desire come true, what more could you want? I’m only one woman, Sora. Mama can’t provide everything.”

“No, no, no, there’s a catch. This is you we’re talking about. You’re like strings on top of strings cluttered onto me. What are you up to?”

Her flimsy mask of confusion slipped off, revealing a sly grin manifesting behind it.

“Well… I guess I might have forgotten to specify an exit location just now,” A pause for a short chuckle. “Oops.”

Before the fade away to complete nothingness, before the collapse of my vision into one big ball of singularity, before being whisked away to a place unknown, her mocking voice was heard in a faint reverberation.

“Care to take a guess where the default one is located?”

The sensation that first greeted me after the unexpected warping was the hollow echoes of ambiance. I spawned off-balance and felt solid stone meet every stumbling step. Musty air an overpowering attack on my nostrils.

When sight finally returned to me, it only confirmed the dreaded truth.

The expansive emptiness, foreboding stone pathways branching and intertwining, dim torches lining the brick walls that made out the entire area. Centering it all was a spiral staircase that ascended to even more ominous heights.

Then to my side immediately after, was her graceful emergence.

“If you guessed dungeon tower, you just won yourself a kiss from yours truly once we get back to reality,” She said, catching sight of me.

Personal space was not of a concern, as I marched all the way up in her grill, meeting her mischievous smile with the furious stare of a thousand lost souls.

“I kinda recall a while back when I specifically stated that this mess here wasn’t my problem to solve, do you remember that?”

“Kind of vague,” She squinted her eyes, “Might have mentioned it.”

An agitated finger pressed on her collarbone.

“Let me remind you then,” I growled, timing each word with a poke. “NOT. MY. PROBLEM.”

Suddenly a barrage of multiple screams of terror sounded from the depths of every single pathway that surrounded us.

“Well, I’m making it your problem.” She said, as a rumbling of numerous footsteps originating from one of the openings made great audible strides towards us. “Solve it.”