I hooked right just before Mrs Balterby’s, continuing along the street until I passed the big red mailbox. Despite knowing exactly what Annette’s place looked like, after all these years I still used her neighbour’s mailbox as my landmark.

Annette lived in a double-decker place, similar in size to mine. The front lawn was manicured to perfection, a habit that her mother had passed down to her in every facet of life except gardening. If you ever saw Annette with a garden trowel or a shovel in her hands, chances were the sky was falling, and pigs were flying up to meet it.

I stepped up to the front door and knocked. The clip-clop of shoes came down the hall, and her mom opened the door. She had high heels on, but I got the vibe that any fine dining plans had been cancelled.

“Hi Ms Hadraw, is Annette okay?”

She hurried me in, ushering me into the living room.

“Not great, Ollie. And if you don’t start calling me Penny, I’m going to hit you.”

“Sorry, Ms Hadraw,” I said, dodging a flailing arm. “Is she in her room?”

“Yep. Go on up, but be careful. She’ll hate that you’re here for a start, you know how she is.”

I scraped up the stairs, hearing sniffles through Annette’s door. I eased it open and tried my best to start off with a smile. She turned, saw me, and threw a fork in my direction.

“Oh, piss offff. Did Duri tell you? I’ll kill him.”

“Yeahhh,” I tried. “Heard you had a weird encounter with the Joemeister.”

“The Joemeister? He’s a dick, that’s what he is. No nicknames, especially not fucking Joemeister.”

“Okay, Annettemeister.”

A second fork flew my way. Fortunately, there was no more cutlery or crockery to toss, so I went and sat down in a beanbag.

Her room was large, but still cozy. There were just enough trinkets and ornaments that your eye could rest on any wall and there’d be a question to ask. Right now, I examined a lava lamp on her bedside table with the words ‘Love from Spain’ inscribed in the bottom.

“Who’s doing all the travelling?” I asked, pointing to the lamp.

“Dad. One of the long-time guild members is Spanish, so Dad went across to meet him IRL a couple years ago.”

“Nice.”

We sat silently for a moment, broken only by the sound of beans shuffling around beneath me.

“Don’t you think it’s weird how Spain and Italy were left alone by the Revolution? Like, I don’t even know what Selic used to be called before it happened.”

“It’s weird, yeah. I got no clue.”

“Mhm. And do you want to know what happened?”

She reached for another tissue and wiped her eyes. They were puffy, and red, but the tears were gone for now.

“With the Revolution? Spain and Italy stuff? Or Joey?” I asked.

“Joey, dumbass.”

“Ah. Yeah, I do.”

The tissue box came close to hand, and we both took some breaths before starting. It’s hard to talk crap about someone you’ve been so close to for more than a decade.

“Well, I saw him at a raid with all these other hot-shots, so I went to say hello. I didn’t want to join, and I didn’t want to bother him, just a hello, but he acted as if he had no clue who I was. Like, nothing. Blank face, looked around at his team as though I was a joke, then—” She broke off, looking as if more things would be thrown.

“You all good?” I asked. “You can just—”

“I’m not all good, no. My best friend, or whatever he was, acted like I meant nothing to him. So no. Not all good.”

I hadn’t meant it like that, but I wasn’t going to point that out now. Instead, I stayed quiet.

The lava lamp bubbled, a small section breaking away from the rest of the pack and rising to the top. It sat there for a moment, basking in the glory, then it lost whatever it was that prompted it to float up there in the first place, and it fell.

The rest of the lava ascended, taking its place.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m just a little rattled. The last thing he said was “Run back to mummy and daddy now” and his gang loved it. I don’t even know why; it doesn’t mean anything to them. They don’t know me or my parent’s guild.”

I shuffled around in my beanbag and felt miserable. There was no winning here, just a crappy, awkward situation for all. I had half a mind to camp outside Joey’s window, chucking stones and demanding a response.

Probably not the approach Annette would go for.

“That’s really, really shitty. I’m happy to just listen, but do you want me to do anything? Duri and I can kidnap him if you’d like. Or Duri could, I dunno, steal all his cronies’ weapons?”

“That’s not even possible, ya donkey.”

She smiled now, which was a relief. I felt awful for thinking it, but I really had to get back to my quest.

“So, uh, on the topic of shitty friends, I have a quest due tomorrow morning…”

“Oh my god, Ollie, you’re ditching me already?! You’ve been here for like, thirty seconds.”

I would’ve been scared if she wasn’t laughing as she said it.

The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

“Bro! I’m like the Band-Aid you whack on a cut to stop it bleeding. If you want to get the anti-septic cream and stitches side of the deal, you can call Duri and have a sleepover or something. Pig out on scallion pancakes.”

She flung a pillow, almost taking out a row of mugs sitting behind my head. Hopping up from the bed, she shooed me out, kicking the beanbag to get me going.

“Alright then, out with you! I’ll call my real friend who’ll bring me food rather than just sit on my beanbag and stink up my room.”

I cackled all the way down the stairs. I was happy to see that Annette’s parents were preparing to leave for their outing after all. I’d never seen her dad in a suit, and to be honest, he was looking rather suave.

“Oh, and next time I’m here, you gotta show me your Pod set-up. I haven’t seen it since the last round of renovations.”

“You can see it once you do some decorating of your own. Brighten up the place.”

“The AT-2000 is the decoration.”

I said bye to Penny and Brian, told Annette to get a new beanbag, then rushed home feeling content, but jumpy.

Tonight would be a grind.

I was conscious of the poor example I was setting for myself, but for my first fifty krad the rules had to be broken. A sturdy sleep schedule could begin once I wasn’t in crushing debt.

Mom and Dale were on the couch when I came in, but I didn’t have time to debrief them with the events of the day. I was upstairs and immersed in a flash.

--Immersing, please don’t disconnect--

Once again, I was on the road. It was dusty and coarse, but peaceful. An intelligent player would be in bed by now, preparing for a busy day tomorrow, but here I was.

The vial sat heavy in my pocket. I could picture the little tornado spinning around, conjuring up whatever deadly magic it contained. Visibility was low, but it was enough to see where I was going.

It was also enough to see the glinting red eyes of my first monster.

With no prior knowledge, I would’ve called it a wolf, or maybe a big dog if I was feeling cute.

When it came close and reared up on its hind legs, I knew it was something else. Fortunately, a label hovered above its head, telling me what abomination I was facing.

[Wolthair : Level 2]

A Wolthair. And a level higher than me…

I was suddenly ultra-conscious that all my skills points could have gone into Strength or Defence. There was no point getting places quickly if I was too weak to fight the monsters along the way.

My first try was with the javelin. I tugged it from the sheath, catching the blade on my neck as I pulled it over. I felt a sting, which meant it was probably a decent gash.

Nice. Doing the monster’s job for it.

The javelin was front-heavy. It didn’t seem intuitive for it to be like that, but I suppose that’s what you get when you let a sketchy storekeeper con you into his cheapest gear. The guy probably sold me all the shit he’d struggled to shill to beginners thus far.

Out of the blue, the Wolthair rushed forward. I let loose with the javelin, but my hurried aim proved useless as it fell far short of the mark.

Esko’s training couldn’t come soon enough.

I switched to the spear and shield, unsure how to manoeuvre such a long weapon without two hands. I tried an overhand grip, yelling and yahooing while I jabbed at the monster. It stood just outside my range, wary of the sharp tip. I could tell it wouldn’t wait long before deciding I wasn’t as dangerous as I looked.

Which Olympians use spears? How do they use them?

Despite my semi-decent mental catalogue of players and their preferred weapons, I couldn’t think of a single adept spear-user to base my style on. It’s not because they didn’t exist, but I had a freaky-as-shit monster puffing its rancid breath all over me, and I didn’t have sufficient Agility or Strength to pull off the moves they whipped out in the Olympics.

The Wolthair batted away my spear and charged.

I was too slow to retract my spear and jab again, so I dropped my only remaining weapon and cowered behind my shield. It crashed into me, sending us both tumbling to the dirt. Curved teeth wrapped around the edge of the shield, lancing into the wood and gnashing at my arm. I thought of my time in the challenge, and how a single flick of my blade would’ve sent this creature back to the void from whence it came.

The onslaught continued as I scrabbled backwards in the dirt, protecting myself with the shield. I spotted my spear in the dirt, and knew it was my only chance. If the monster didn’t tire, I’d be here all night until I finally gave up.

There was a break in the snarling, and I rushed to my feet and hammered over to my spear. I could hear the beast’s padded feet rushing behind me, close enough to raise the hairs on my neck.

I reached down as I passed the spear, snatching it up from the dust and bringing a handful of slippery dirt with it. There was no time to bring it to an overhand grip like I wanted, so in a desperate effort, I leapt forward and spun to face my foe, fumbling the spear into an underhand grip.

Time slowed as the Wolthair launched at me. One eye was almost rolled back, and flecks of foam gathered at its rotting jaw as a coin toss decided my fate. Either the spear would go where I wanted, or it wouldn’t.

Given my previous efforts, a coin toss was generous.

I steadied myself, planting my feet in the dirt with one slightly further back. I sandwiched the spear in my armpit and prayed.

A weight crunched into me and hot breath billowed over my face. My eyes instinctively shut, waiting for the pain of having my face ripped up, but it never came. I fell into the dirt once again, whacking my head.

My chest was wet.

And warm.

I opened my eyes and looked down. Matted fur blanketed my body, adding to the heat. The beast’s head lolled off to the side, drooping lifelessly.

I’d done it.

A notification confirmed my suspicions, telling me I’d conquered a Level 2 Wolthair and been granted 5 EXP for my troubles.

Five.

You could argue that, for a tense couple minutes of battle, 5 EXP was a reasonable reward.

I’d beg to differ.

I almost died like, fourteen times, and I didn’t even want to think about what that beast had done to the durability on my shield.

I’d check later. What I didn’t know couldn’t hurt me.

Wishing I’d been more prepared, I decided to check out my available skills. I had one Token, which, if used correctly, could be paramount in defending me from whatever trials lay between here and Cambree.

Attributable Skill Tokens: (1)

1. Spear Proficiency I (Passive)

10% increased damage using Spears.

2. Spear Charge (Ability)

Super-charge your next attack, dealing double-damage on a successful strike. 5-minute cooldown.

I did the math in my head, calculating the damage potential of each Skill. The Passive would technically be better if I could dole out a hit every thirty seconds, but the burst-damage of the Ability resonated with me. If I was able to leap into a fight and take out one monster straight away, it would be more useful than waiting around for the 10% buff to pile up.

Plus, Dale had intrigued me with his story of the [Hoplite] who put absolutely everything into his javelin. Without access to the Fields, specialising in something like that could be my best shot at catching a big guild’s attention.

My mind was made. I chose [Spear Charge] and quickly shut the window before I could regret it. There was always a chance that [Spear Proficiency I] would show up next time.

From here on out, the System would tailor its offerings to my previous choices. For example, if I only ever chose Passive Skills that buffed my javelin, the System would learn to offer me Skills based on that selection. You could still get the odd Ability or Passive for a different weapon or area of expertise, but it became rarer with each successive choice in a different direction.

My future was being written with every choice I made.

I continued on the path, freaking out for a moment when I remembered about the vial in my back pocket. I’d spent a lot of time on the ground in that tussle, and I was worried it had broken.

Thankfully, the gods had taken mercy on me. There were no itty-bitty pieces of shattered glass pricking into my hand, and no escaped magical tornado ripping a hole in the seat of my pants.

The quest was still available, and fifty krad was nearing my wallet with every step.

I pushed on through the night, not understanding the power of what lay in my pocket.

That would change.