“Where can I find the Alchemist’s Guild?” Saffie asked the women. “I need to speak to Ruben.”

“You’d be wasting your time looking for him there,” the petite player said. “There’s been a sign on his desk for over a week saying he won’t be at the guild for the foreseeable future.”

“Probably gone on holiday with his parents to get some colour on that pale skin of his,” the other woman added.

Saffie cursed internally, then remembered something Nate had said - that Ruben was planning a secret foraging expedition. She hadn’t been that interested in it at the time, but now she wished she’d asked Nate for more details.

She needed to talk to Nate again, so she sent him a message as she returned to her table and ignored her mum who hissed, “Accusing people of witchcraft, Saffie? Seriously?”

SAFFIE: Nate, I know you’re probably still angry with me, and that’s completely justified, but I’ve discovered something about my uncle’s coma, and I think you can help me.

When the bill arrived, and Saffie hadn’t gotten a reply to her message, it was the first time she considered that there might be something wrong. It had been weeks since she and Nate had argued, and he had been so keen to help her before. Would he really hold a grudge for so long? She decided to send another.

SAFFIE: It was Ruben that put my uncle in his coma - I’m certain of it, and I need to know where he is. You said he told you about a secret foraging trip he was going on. Do you know where he went?

After anxiously pacing around her bedroom for 3 hours when she got home, Saffie still hadn’t had any reply, and she was really starting to become concerned for Nate’s wellbeing. Had he been eliminated from the game? Or had he been abducted, just like Cora’s friend Liam?

SAFFIE: If you’re not answering me because you’re still mad at me, I get it, but I’m worried. Even if you don’t want to answer my question, can you send me some kind of reply?

She added another:

SAFFIE: Just so I know you’re safe.

When Monday morning arrived and she still hadn’t received any reply to her messages, Saffie shot out of bed and said, “Open map.” She didn’t know Nate’s home address, but if he was still in the game and hadn’t been abducted, there was one place he was very likely to be.

There in the Limehouse District of East London was a 3D building that had a symbol floating beside it of a shield crest with criss-crossing swords behind it. Small print to its right read:

Sailmaker’s Loft, 777 Commercial Rd

And in larger, more ornate writing:

London Warrior’s Guild

As soon as Saffie’s parents left for work, she headed to the Tube station and took the Eastbound line to Limehouse, finding the Warrior’s Guild just a short walk from the station.

Unlike the ethereal and relatively narrow Mage’s Guild, the Warrior’s Guild was a wide, stern looking building made of red brick, and before Saffie had even opened the front entrance, she could hear the clanking of swords and the whooshing of arrows.

Inside was a huge open space that was shadowed by a julienne balcony running around its circumference, and was filled with players in very different attire to the robes she was used to seeing. Heavy armour and gauntlets seemed to be a popular choice, as did leather assassin’s garbs, and some of the guys were even bare chested, baring grisly scars that had to be Overworld illusions, or so Saffie hoped.

She tried to spot Nate in the throng, but it was too chaotic. Swords clanged as fencers faced off in one corner, grapplers slammed each other onto MMA mats to her right, and the entire left wall was dedicated to archery, where arrows whizzed, thumped, and ricocheted off target boards.

“Watch yerself, luv!” someone shouted, and Saffie ducked as an axe flew over her head and impaled itself into a wooden beam beside her. She shuffled away, but almost got hit by a spiked mace that smashed into a training dummy, then nearly got sliced by a young girl who was swinging around nunchucks. Tripping backwards, Saffie tumbled through a doorway with Acorn landing on top of her, and found herself in what appeared to be a tavern, where luckily nobody seemed to be brandishing any kind of weapon.

The busy tavern smelled of stale beer and urine, and she noticed that her hands were sticky as she got up from the floor and surveyed the room. In one corner a group were swaying back and forth with their arms over each others’ shoulders singing some kind of folksong, and in another corner there was a heated board game being played which involved several dice with glowing symbols on them.

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

But there was no sign of Nate.

She decided to ask the nearest person to her - a woman who was sat at the bar.

“Excuse me… do you know a player called Nate by any chance?”

The woman turned her head slowly and stared at Saffie, and there was something off about her, as if she was very ill.

“Jeremy can answer your question,” she said.

“Jeremy?” said Saffie, and the woman turned to the burly guy sitting next to her. He had a huge broadsword strapped to his back, and a bulldog-like panion sat beside his stool.

“Beats me why you’d want anything to do with that little punk,” he growled.

“You know Nate?” Saffie said, gripping the edge of the bar in hope.

“Irritating little twerp,” said Jeremy. “Wish I didn’t. Always complainin’ ‘bout the way I treat my ephemeral.”

“Ephemeral?” said Saffie. She’d been in Overworld for a good few weeks now and she’d never heard of the term.

With a wicked grin Jeremy said, “Watch this,” and made an O shape with his forefinger and thumb. He then raised his hand, and to Saffie’s disgust, flicked the woman’s shoulder.

“Are you okay?” Saffie asked the woman, but she didn’t reply. Instead, she just stared into space.

Jeremy chuckled, coughing up phlegm at the same time.

“Of course she’s okay,” he growled. “She didn’t feel it. She doesn’t feel anything.”

Saffie wondered if the woman had taken a potion that made her immune to pain or something. If it was a particularly potent potion, it might have also explained the ill and vacant look on her face.

“It’s still not a nice thing to do to someone,” Saffie said.

Jeremy shook his head mockingly.

“You’re not getting it, are you?” he said. “She’s not real.”

Saffie slowly focused on the woman’s face. Yes, there was something about her that wasn’t right, but…

“No way,” Saffie said, shaking her head. This Jeremy guy had to be lying. And there was one way to find out.

“Scan,” Saffie said, and the woman’s stats appeared next to her.

Matilda Knight (player)

Age: 40

Guild: Warrior’s Guild

Panion: Annie

“I can see her name,” Saffie said. “She’s real.”

But Jeremy just chuckled.

“It’s all part of the illusion. You want me to prove it?”

Jeremy pulled an Overworld guilder from his pocket and placed it on the bar, then he pulled a British pound coin from his other pocket and slammed it down beside the guilder.

“Pick up the coins,” Jeremy ordered, glaring at the woman.

Even though Saffie found his tone of voice to be offensively aggressive, she was too intrigued to interrupt.

The woman reached out and picked up the guilder, but left the pound coin where it was.

“The pound is in the real world,” Jeremy explained. “Which means she won’t be able to interact with it. She’s programmed to avoid situations which’ll break the game’s immersion. She’ll do everything she can to avoid picking it up. Won’t you darlin’? Pick up that pound coin, you can buy yourself a packet of crisps.”

Saffie still half expected the woman to suddenly snatch the coin up and shove it at Jeremy, telling him to stick it where the sun doesn’t shine, but she did exactly as he predicted she would.

“I’ve got enough guilders, thank you,” she said with a weak smile.

“I know you’ve got enough guilders,” Jeremy said with a false sweetness, his smile showing several missing teeth. “I’m giving you a pound coin. Pick it up. It’s yours.”

There was a pause before the woman repeated, “I’ve got enough guilders, thank you.”

“I said, pick it u-”

“Okay, that’s enough!” Saffie interjected. “I get it. She’s an NPC.”

Jeremy snatched up the pound and flicked it at Saffie, who caught it before it hit her in the neck.

“Why don’t you buy yerself a packet of crisps instead,” he smirked. “And by the way, they’re not called NPCs in Overworld. Like I said, she’s called an ephemeral, ‘cos she’s temporary. Watch this. Timer Reveal.”

A digital clock appeared to the left of the woman’s head.

48 : 02 : 59

‘See,” said Jeremy. “This one’s gonna expire in two days’ time. Had her for nearly three weeks, though she’s been a waste of bloody space. She misses half her shots with that basic bow and arrow of hers, and I mean, just look at that poor excuse for a panion.”

He eyed the woman’s little hamster-like panion that was sat on the bar in front of her with disgust.

“What do you mean, had her?” Saffie said.

“She was a reward for killin’ five hundred festerfiends within the space of a fortnight. Insulting reward for all that work if you ask me.”

“So she just follows you around, doing whatever you say?”

“More so than my mutt,” Jeremy said, and his dog panion grumbled beneath him. “She’s supposed to help me in battle, but she’s been useless the entire time. The only thing she’s been worth is comedy value. Ain’t that right, darlin?”

The woman didn’t reply.

“I said, ain’t that RIGHT, darlin?”

Saffie had had enough of Jeremy’s behaviour.

“Stop it,” she ordered. “She might not be real, but that’s no excuse to be a nasty pig.”

Jeremy slowly leaned forward, the stool creaking beneath his weight.

“What did you call me, little girl?”

“A… nasty… pig?” Saffie said meekly, watching the veins begin to bulge on Jeremy’s forehead.

“You know what I think?” he said. “I think you should stop worrying ‘bout what I’m doing, and start noticing what’s happenin’ around you.”

Saffie glanced around.

“Abou’ five seconds ago I saw a white hawk panion fly into the toilets. If I ain’t mistaken, that’s your little boyfriend’s bird.”

“Talia!” Saffie squealed.

She jumped from her stool and raced into the tavern’s unisex toilets. She needed to know that Nate was okay.

“Nate!” she called, but the smelly place was empty and silent apart from the dripping of a leaky cistern. One by one, she checked each cubicle, but there was nobody in any of them.

“Nate?” she said again, but there was no reply.

Saffie turned to leave, but froze as she found the hulking figure of Jeremy standing in the doorway, a vicious smirk across his bloodshot face.

“Nate’s not in here,” Saffie said, as Jeremy’s bulldog panion joined him, its teeth dripping with saliva as it snarled at Acorn.

“Of course he ain’t in here,” Jeremy replied mockingly. “I ain’t seen him for over a week. Probably got his little butt handed to him.”

“Let me past,” Saffie said, trying to sound more confident than she felt. “I need to go look for him.”

“You won’t be going anywhere,” Jeremy drawled, unsheathing his broadsword. “No one calls me a nasty pig and gets away with it. I wanted to do this at the bar, but striking another player on guild grounds outside of training is strictly prohibited. Luckily for me, no one can see what happens in ‘ere. It’s time to say tara to your furry friend for good, little girl. You’re about to become a baser.”