“What are we going to do? We can’t compete in a raid with this little gear!”

“How are we supposed to gather materials to rebuild our properties?”

“I’d be tempted to leave if there wasn’t a damn raid in the way!”

Azalea had heard every version of the reaction to the bit of news that Oscar and others had brought back into the village. Every piece of land that they could see outside of Silver Village had now been designated a raid zone. It had been the first message Oscar had sent her outside the game. Enough of a shock to get her back online quickly, in spite of the concerns of the real world that were still hounding her.

Now she, Riley, Oscar, and Patsy were sitting in the taproom of the Ragged Flagon, listening to the loud complaints of other players. Strange, she thought, but she couldn’t hear any of the Terrians taking up a similar note. They just seemed worried and afraid, a perfectly logical reaction considering what had happened. But unlike the players, none of them were talking about leaving. It was such a strange split of opinion, not because either side felt unnatural, but because she was more like the Terrians than the Players.

“So what does this mean for us?” She asked. “Do you guys want to fight this? Or should we consider leaving like the others?”

“I can’t blame them,” Riley admitted, sweeping his eyes over the packed and noisy room. “Their losses might not be that bad, but a few have been wiped more than once. That’d make anyone wanna pack up and go home.”

“Which in that case would mean running away?” Oscar asked, shaking his head. “When you’re backed into a corner, you don’t run. You attack.”

Riley snorted in laughter, and even Azalea cracked a smile. Patsy, who was one of those players who’d been wiped, had nothing to offer at the moment. Azalea felt sorry for him. He’d decided to pack up everything he owned and trek all the way here from Dawnbreak City, only to lose everything to a Terrian raid on their newly re-purchased property. At least they’d thought to visit the village first, she thought, so that he respawned here when he’d died, and not back in the city.

“Has anyone heard anything from the Sisters?” Azalea asked. The last she’d heard, they’d lost their compound a second time the previous day, just like what had happened to them. “I know Tankbabe is around, but I haven’t seen any of the other Sisters yet.”

“Someone told me they’re hiding their location to rebuild,” Patsy volunteered. “Apparently, they think that a player betrayed their location the last time, so they’re being careful.”

“How could it have been a player’s fault?” Riley asked. “It’s pretty clear that Terrians are responsible for what’s happening here.”

“Yeah, but Kyraa has always been a little suspicious of other people,” Oscar put in. “I think she would have ended up playing a villain if she could have gotten away with it.”

They couldn’t refute that statement. Kyraa was a clever, quick-witted player, with more than a little malicious intent, and she was clearly a mastery manipulator. All these traits would be common in a video game villain. But somehow, she’d ended up being a force for good, if only because it aligned with her personal interests. She’d made a great ally so far in this game, and Azalea hoped that quota would remain.

“I’ve been ferrying materials to Tankbabe,” she volunteered. “They can’t get out and gather themselves, so we have to help each other out.”

“Just so long as you’re not hurting our gear chances,” Oscar reminded her. “If we’re not equipped the best we can be, we’ll be shit out of luck.”

She nodded her agreement. “Don’t worry, I’m still giving us priority. Mack will be finished with your bow soon.”

She’d given the Terrian carpenter - who doubled as an expert craftsman of wooden weapons - four pieces of rare-quality wood she’d cut down and stored in her pack. With his skill, Oscar would have a new weapon that was just as good as the one he’d lost after being killed by Tsubasa during that brawl in the Dawnbreak markets. Oscar had fumed for weeks over the loss of his weapon, and now he gave her a silent nod of gratitude for replacing it.

“It seems pretty clear that we plan on fighting,” He pointed out. “I don’t know about all of you, but we’re hardly worthy of our guild name if we can’t keep the place where we made all those first achievements.”

“Of course we’re going to fight,” Azalea assured him. “I want to protect the village, and I’ve gotten used to the area over here. Even if we did move away, we couldn’t guarantee that we’d be happy in a new location.”

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

“That’s true,” Riley put in. “But more importantly, Matlin will probably just follow us. He’s got an axe to grind.”

It still came as something of a surprise to realize that an NPC was so hell-bent on revenge. It wasn’t the first time that a game employed a system that rewarded or punished players for their actions. She’d heard of quite a few from Dale. But as far as she knew, no game had ever sent a boss on a personal vendetta just because a player had defeated them. Matlin was a new threat - one they couldn’t quite figure out how to beat yet - and they had to face it. There really was no way to avoid him without outright quitting the game. And none of them were ready to do that yet.

“So,” Oscar brought them back to the subject at hand. “What are we going to do about it?”

Both he and Riley looked at her, which surprised Azalea. “What?”

“Well, you’ve spent the most time with the greatest tactician gamer we’ve ever met,” Oscar said. “What do you think he would do in a moment like this?”

His eyes showed a slight hint of apology, and it was clear he didn’t really want to bring up Caius again so soon. She shrugged slightly, quietly noting and ignoring the flare of pain in her heart. His name hadn’t even been mentioned, but it still hurt. “So? Just because he was my friend doesn’t mean I learned tactics from him. Before we found this game, I hated fighting in video games. I was always the casual farmer type.”

They exchanged a quick glance, frowning thoughtfully. Riley leaned across the table, his elbows resting on the table’s surface. “But you’re a great tactician, Azalea. Even if you learned from him, you’re still smart as a whip. If anyone could think of a plan to get us out of this, it’s you.”

She felt herself blushing at the comment and hoped it didn’t show on her avatar’s face. “I’m not that smart. I could show you a hundred ways to plant and harvest crops, and I even know a thing or two about commerce, though I’m not as good as Jordine. But I’m not a strategist.”

“Caius said you had one of the best strategy minds he’d seen,” Oscar replied with a faint shrug. “There’s a reason you were the guild leader.”

“I’m only the guild leader because he didn’t want the responsibility.”

Riley shook his head. “No. You’re the guild leader because you’re the smartest among us. Look at what you did with our camp! And you beat that raid boss by yourself!”

“That was just luck.”

“Three on one is not good luck,” Oscar refuted. “It’s cunning, agility, and genius.”

He gestured at himself, Riley, and Patsy, then at the rest of the room. “Nobody else here has your title. You were able to beat three people by yourself, with no backup. Even we haven’t done that. Even Caius never managed that.”

She appreciated the point that they were making, but she couldn’t accept their words. They simply didn’t know her that well yet. Whenever life presented her with a chance to advance her career or life, she always chose the most simple, comfortable route. Instead of pursuing her PHD, she’d stayed on as Dale’s caregiver. Instead of registering with the company that oversaw her contract and potentially earning more, she’d settled for a lower pay in return for lower responsibilities. Dale had been the ambitious one, even after the accident that had paralyzed him. Always reaching for new heights. She was just his support.

“I don’t know,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know what we should do.”

They shared another look, and Patsy looked supremely awkward. He knew even less about Azalea than the other two did, and he looked as if he wanted to add something to the conversation but wasn’t sure if his input was welcome. Azalea pointedly looked away from Riley and Oscar, making it clear that she was done with this topic of discussion. They’d have to accept that, or ignore her too.

Her heart skipped a beat as she saw a flash of blue metal. What in the world? Before she knew what she was doing, she’d gotten to her feet, her entire body trembling. The visceral reaction must have transferred to her avatar, for Riley sounded truly concerned now. “Azalea? What’s wrong? There’s not another raid, is there?”

Oscar leaned sideways through the space she’d just occupied, and he froze. “No way. But you said-”

He couldn’t finish the thought aloud. Riley spun around, wondering what they were looking at. Azalea ignored the pair of them. Her eyes raked the crowd around the bar. She couldn’t have seen what she thought she had. There was no way. It was impossible. Then, the crowd of new customers stepped aside, and the figure waiting patiently behind them stepped into view once again.

“Caius!” Oscar shouted, jumping to his feet - nearly knocking their table over - and grinning broadly.

“But you said he passed away!” Riley yelped, finishing what Oscar had failed to say before. He glanced in Azalea’s direction, then at Oscar, as if looking for a guide on how to react.

There was no mistaking it. They’d spent nearly three months in the company of the avatar Dale had created. The grey-haired, grizzled warrior in blue metal armor, with his sword, shield, and sarcastic, dark humor. Their leader in battle, their friend. His eyes lifted to meet Azalea’s, and she felt a powerful shiver run through her body. His eyes were exactly the same. Calm and reassuring, even as they were cold and calculating.

“How?” It was the only word she could come up with. She knew he was dead. She’d felt no pulse, and she’d heard the EMT’s pronouncement. Even if he weren’t, he wasn’t at home anymore. How could he be here? For a moment, she wondered if someone had hacked his computer, and was controlling his avatar remotely. Then she realized that was impossible because they couldn’t replicate his retinas.

“Hello,” he said, once he was within easy speaking range. “I imagine you all have a lot of questions. I’ll try to answer as many as I can, but then we have to tackle this raid.”

“How are you here?” At least she’d managed a full sentence that time. Then, as if she were terrified of the answer, she added, “Are you really…”

“I’m not Dale,” the avatar said, a look of sadness crossing his face. He held her gaze but made no move to approach closer, as if he knew how scared she was. “But I am Caius. Well, in a way. Long story short, I’m in the game forever now.”