I slept like I’d been sedated and woke up the next morning to sunlight seeping through the curtains. The building rumbled as something large passed overhead, and the room fell back into shadows. I sprang out of bed and whipped the curtains to the side. A large gray aircraft floated above the flat roofs, humming softly as it moved toward the Citadel. I relaxed and stumbled back to bed. For a moment, I wasn’t sure where I was—in my room in Breaker City or at the bungalow in Brentwood. But no, I was in Elatrion, on the rough outskirts of the futuristic city.
For a brief moment, the sheer weirdness and impossibility of it all threatened to twist my mind inside out. Less than a week ago, I’d been at City Hall, discussing a project on a piece of property I’d been sitting on for too long. I’d been down at Marina del Rey overseeing another project, bitter and pissed off about my cheating girlfriend. Ordinary life stuff. This was the furthest thing from ordinary life.
My heart gave a sudden double thump of pure excitement. Most of the time, I couldn’t grasp the full scope of what was happening to me. But in moments like this, my dull, grown-up brain gave way to the boy I’d once been—before Nam, before Melinda, before the business ventures and the responsibilities. I was living the boyhood dream of stepping into a magical world where I could be whatever I wanted. The weight of real life was gone, replaced by the lightness of a world that felt like a giant playground laid out just for me.
The plan for the day: find a quick breakfast, then head out into the city to grind some levels and get my credits’ worth for this overpriced room.
But where?
I opened the city map and scanned the districts of Elatrion. The Black Citadel lay at the center, surrounded by expanding layers of concentric circles—the epicenter from which all the city’s major roads stretched. I switched to a 3D view and zoomed in on the Citadel. Green lines with a faint shine outlined its massive structure. It was taller than any high-rise in the US. But it wasn’t just tall; it was built in chunky stages, the base covering the largest circle on the map and tapering off in segments to a top crowned with a flashing red beacon, visible day or night. This was the base of operations for the Emperor of Elatrion. I hadn’t yet figured out if the Emperor was an NPC or an actual player. I needed to ask Sarah about that.
I zoomed out from the tower and scanned the surroundings. Points of interest were marked with yellow dots, and when I zoomed in further, they became color-coded. Blue marked social points like bars, restaurants, moneylenders, and bookies. Red marked mission points. Rick had told me that Elatrion worked similarly to Windersmyr. There was a main quest to follow, but the world was littered with side missions offering rewards and XP.
I needed a mission within walking distance. I was sure there were taxis and buses, but I didn’t feel like parting with more credits. Three missions stood out:
1. The Gauntlet – Fight waves of enemies (recommended level: 8-10).
2. Taking Care of Business – Clear out the dockside warehouse (recommended level: 6-10).
3. Catch the Rat – Capture or kill a Yakuza snitch for great rewards (recommended level: 6-10).
As I pondered my options, my glance drifted to another, underused menu option. I tapped it, and within moments, there was a knock at the door. I opened it to let Alara in.
She gave me a sideways glance, as if expecting me to waste her time.
“Good morning, Alara. Looking as beautiful as ever,” I said, flashing a smile.
She didn’t care for it, but smiling at a beautiful girl was still a good way to start the day.
“Oh, Brad, you really know how to set a girl’s heart on fire. How can I help you?”
“Help me decide.” I shared the map with her, pointing out my three options. “Which one will give me the most XP?”
“The Gauntlet. Not only because it’s the hardest of the three, but also because of how it’s structured. The waves of enemies won’t stop—they’ll keep coming until you die or bail out. And by bailing out, I mean reaching a safe room to leave the mission. During combat, you won’t have that option, so plan accordingly.”
“Got it.”
“In the Gauntlet, you’ll start in a corridor with a safe room to your right. You can play it safe and stay there, picking enemies off, but if you’re serious about earning XP, you’ll need to push forward. The hallway is divided into ten zones, and each zone acts as an XP multiplier.”
“So if I reach Zone 10, I’ll get 10 times the XP?”
“Yes, but you won’t. Zone 10 is whale territory.”
“Whale? What does that mean?”
“Don’t worry about it—you’re not one. But the Gauntlet scales well for lower-level players. Normally, a level 7 like you would be stuck in Zone 1 until hitting level 10, but if you’re skilled, you might manage Zone 3 for a while before having to bail out.”
It sounded like a great deal.
“Another plus: the Gauntlet is repeatable. The other missions aren’t. Once you complete them, they’re gone.”
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Even better.
“Sounds like a plan, then.”
“Good. Anything else I can help you with?”
Actually, yes.
I felt overwhelmed with information, like I was seeing everything through a microscope. I needed scope and context. Who was the Emperor of Elatrion? How big was Elatrion? And Windersmyr? Was there any form of government, or was it survival of the fittest?
“I was in Windersmyr the other day, running through a dungeon in the mountains,” I said.
It sounded so casual, didn’t it? Just running through a dungeon. Killed a Death Knight twice my level. You know, that sorta thing. Was I actually trying to impress her? Impress a girl who wasn’t a girl at all but rather an advanced bundle of code? No, I wasn’t that stupid. Was I?
“I met a level 27 player in Longbourn. An orc. High-level players don’t show up in Longbourn often—they have so many other entry points into Windersmyr. That got me wondering. How big is Windersmyr, and how many entry points does it have?”
“Is there a reason you’re asking this now?”
I didn’t feel like explaining my plan to enter the Battle Clash, but since it was set in Windersmyr, I needed as much information as possible.
“No real reason. Knowledge is easy to carry, right?”
She gave me a faint smile. “Right. Okay, Brad, this isn’t classified, so I’ll indulge you.” She flicked her hand, and a translucent map materialized in the center of the room, filling it wall to wall. It displayed a sprawling landmass, crisscrossed with rivers, borders, and labeled regions.
“This is Windersmyr. It’s roughly the size of Europe.”
My jaw dropped. The size of Europe? A real, full-sized continent?
“Longbourn is here, in the southeast of the Kingdom of Cimbria,” she said, lighting up a blue dot on the map. “The dungeon you visited was here, in the Kingdom of Warnheim.” Another blue dot appeared, far to the north.
If Windersmyr was the size of Europe, then Longbourn was somewhere around Romania, and the dungeon was in Sweden. Holy hell. Sarah had been way off when she said it was a week-long trek from Longbourn to the dungeon. I realized then that there were parts of Windersmyr I’d never get to see—the majority of it, in fact. It boggled the mind.
“There’s too much to explain about Windersmyr,” Alara continued. “Too much for you to process all at once. What I can tell you is that the most powerful kingdom in Windersmyr is Cimbria. It’s also the largest, spanning from the Arcane Sea in the west to the South Sea in the south, and east to the Helada River, which forms the border with the Kingdom of Berenica.”
“There are actual kingdoms in the game?”
“There are, but they’re not important for you to know about at this stage of your experience. They’ll play key roles in future storylines.”
“And Elatrion? Is it as massive as Windersmyr?”
“Oh no, not at all. If Windersmyr is the size of Europe, Elatrion is more like the size of Los Angeles in 1984.”
I nodded, filing that away. “And the king of Cimbria? If it’s a kingdom, I assume there’s a king?”
“There is. The Vonsvirates family has ruled Cimbria for seven generations. The current monarch is Davidian Vonsvirates Catcha, married to Princess Misa Vonsvirates Catcha of House Leones from Berenica.”
“That’s a mouthful.”
“It usually is with royalty.”
“They’re NPCs, I assume?”
She hesitated, tilting her head.
“What?” I asked.
“This information is a little premature, but I don’t see the harm in telling you. The Vonsvirates family, like the rest of the aristocracy in Windersmyr, aren’t ordinary NPCs. They’re what we call nPACs.”
“nPACs?”
“Yes. It stands for Non-Playable Active Characters. nPACs have their own agendas and aren’t controlled by Game Control. It’s unlikely you’ll ever run into one, but if you do, stand aside. They follow their own rules and can be unpredictable.”
“Unpredictable how?”
“Unpredictable in the way humans are.”
“They’re human?”
“They’re not. They’re NPCs with individual agendas. Whether that makes them human or not is a philosophical question.”
“Got it. And the Emperor of Elatrion? Is he an nPAC too?”
“He is. His name is Hadar Kertz, and he’s not someone you want to cross. Of all the players, NPCs, and nPACs in the game, he’s by far the most powerful.”
I let that sink in for a moment.
“Was there anything else you wanted to know?” she asked.
“One last thing.”
“Yes?”
“Can you recommend a good place for breakfast?”
I was sitting at the counter at Bernie’s looking out at Rawleigh Street, munching a bacon sandwich. Car’s sleek and beautiful passed soundlessly back and forth. I couldn’t see the joints for the doors, or the hood, and the windshield looked only like a lighter shade of grey. There were also as many aircrafts zipping back and forth, most of them heading in the direction of the Citadel. But inside Bernie’s time was stuck in the 50’s, the Jukebox in the corner at low volume, playing Chuck Berry, Bernie himself having a little white hat sitting askew on his head. On the other side of the street was a park with a sparkling little pond. That pond with the gravel road going around it for leisurely strolls didn’t match my vision of the future, the cars on the street, and in the sky, did; and behind me Bernie was rubbing down his counter, representing the past. It was a mismatched experience. Was this someone else’s take on the future, or was it the future? The 50’s vibe in here a result of nostalgia? I had no clue, and I added that to the pile of no clues I already had. To keep sane in this environment, I had to stop thinking about all the things I didn’t understand and focus on the next mission, and when that was completed, you went on to the next one. Just grind on, slow and steady, and stop for no one.
I wiped my mouth and chucked down the rest of the Coca-Cola – mmm, breakfast for champions – and gave Bernie a wave before tinkling the bell above the door, leaving.
The Gauntlet was just up the street and I half expected there to be a line, like on the funfair where people lined up for the roller-coaster, but there was none. Another thing to add on the pile of no clues. This ought to be one of the most popular dungeons to grind, but no one was in the line to do it? It was the same with the mission yesterday. When walking over here, I passed the crumpled buildings where I yesterday had taken part in World War 3, collapsing walls left and right – but the dilapidated buildings stood as they had before. No squads were gearing up to enter them, no screaming Sergeant Watts, no sounds of carnage coming from inside the buildings.
How?
Don’t ask me, I have no clue.
I reached the pulsing red dot on my mini-map. In front of me stood a red brick building, three stories tall, with a faded company name in white paint stretched across its façade. The windows were black and lifeless. On the far left of the ground floor was a dented metal door.
I really wished I’d had my scope fixed—or managed to buy a new one—but my credits were down to roughly 2,000. Not even the most optimistic dreamer could expect to score advanced ocular equipment for that kind of money. I had to go in without it.
What I did have was Laridian’s Edge and my new harness to protect me from physical damage. That should be enough to get me into Zone 3, at least.
I pulled the door open and stepped inside.