I have to admit, getting an unexpected kiss from my best friend was quite an unexpected shock, and the aftermath was as awkward as heck. It took about five seconds for Brand’s sense of propriety to kick in, after which he immediately became flustered, and over the next few minutes, if either of us tried to bring up what had just happened, our attempt at communication sloughed away like autumn leaves. I knew I was lucky that I’d never had doubts or misgivings about my sexuality. Obviously, the same was not true of Brand. I could tell he knew I wouldn’t reciprocate, and that our feelings for one another were not of the same kind.

“If I could change anything about myself,” he said, “I’d make myself less gay and less intelligent.”

“What!?”

“Being smart isn’t really all that it’s cracked up to be,” he said, with a shake of his head. “Intelligence comes with a nasty catch: you get to spend your life painfully aware of how little anyone actually knows—especially yourself. Also, accomplishments that would have the average Joe whooping for joy just feel… meh. It takes a fuckin’ miracle to find something really worth celebrating.”

“Brand…” I said.

“If I’d been just a little dumber,” Dr. Nowston continued, “just a little, my life would have been so much easier.”

To heck with it: I leaned forward and hugged him. A moment later, I stepped away and put my clawed hands on his shoulders.

“Don’t you even dare consider that, Dr. Brandley Eric Nowston,” I said, unloading the weight of his full name. “That would be a change for the worse, and,” I smirked. “I’m pretty confident you just told me not to do that.”

A pixelated tear trickled down from his LED face.

“Th-thanks, I…” Brand’s screen briefly glitched. “I needed that.”

When we had entered the Thin World, it had been me who was down in the doldrums. Now, the tables had turned, and I was the one trying to raise Brand’s spirits.

Ironic, wasn’t it?

I knew Brand had been itching to further explore the game mechanics, so, I figured, why not carry that torch for him?

We’d be less broken working together than we would be if we were apart.

I turned to the mouth of the tunnel. “We should get moving,” I said, “whatever’s waiting for us on the other end of this tunnel is not going to explore itself.”

“But what about your worries?” Brand said.

“They’ll just come along for the ride, as they alway do. Yeah, I still feel lost as heck, but at least I’m not alone. Having someone by your side can give you that extra bit of strength you need to take a couple steps forward.”

He nodded. “Alright.”

The tunnel continued in the wall opposite the entrance to the goblins’ camp, rising upward at a gentle slope. Not far around the bend, we came face to face with a truly ancient door that blocked the path. It was clearly of Precursor make, with two, square, cross-hatched columns of glittering blue metal flanking either side of the actual door itself, which was made from the same material.

Distressingly, the middle of the bottom of the door was crumpled and rose up and out in a decent sized hole where something had forced its way through.

“Now that looks kind of ominous, don’t you think?” I said.

Brand nodded. “How much you wanna bet that’s how the clockwork ants got in?

“They broke through,” I said.

Brand had started walking up to the hole, likely intent on crawling through it—or, perhaps, blasting it open with his magic—when I grabbed him by the shoulder and stopped him.

My nostrils flared.

“I’ve got a feeling there will be more of those clockwork ants up ahead,” I said. “And, by feeling, I mean… I can smell them.”

“That… makes sense,” Brand said. “Greg was telling me how he’d set the underlying wyrmware to modify the monster spawn registry based on player’s builds and party compositions, especially in the lead up to boss fights.”

Given the strengths of our two-man party, the clockwork ants struck me as exactly that: an enemy designed to challenge us.

I was pretty sure I could hear their gears and motors ticking in the distance.

If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

I pointed down the short tunnel, toward the goblin camp chamber behind us. “Would you mind if we returned to the camp?” I eyed the door warily. “I don’t like being so close to that hole.”

Brand nodded, and we walked back into the settlement and seated down by our campfire.

“It’s like I told you,” he said. “You should have specialized in melee combat.”

“And like I told you,” I rebutted, “it wouldn’t have mattered. I’ve tried using different character builds, but whenever I enter the Incursion, it snaps me back to this form,” I said, pointing at myself. “It’s as if it’s remembering how I was during our first contact.”

“Damn,” Brand replied.

I furrowed my brow. “Have you considered using a different character class?”

Brand shook his head haughtily. “Genneth, I’m an INT-based sorcerer who’s also a robot. That’s clearly the best of all possible characters.”

“I would work even better if we had a bigger party,” I said.

“I know, I know,” Brand said, “but,” here, he pointed at me with a stubborn metal finger, “as I’ve told you, the more people we have, the more likely the fungus notices us. Did I tell you about how I tried crossing the Forgotten Sands with a small army of NPC mercenaries?”

“No,” I said. “What happened?”

“This four-legged floating fungus-island thing rose up from the sands. It was huge; we didn’t stand a chance.”

My eyes bugged out. “What?”

Brand waved his hand. “I can show you when we get back.”

“I’ll pass,” I said.

“So,” he asked, “other than that, are you ready to go?”

“We should save, first.”

“What?” Brand asked.

I looked him in the face-screen. “Greg didn’t give you a goodie bag along with your copy of Wyrmsoft 2.0?”

“Oh, that,” Brand waved his hand. “I haven’t looked through it yet.” He shook his head.

Taking off my Backpack of Holding, I opened it up and pulled a violet crystal out after a moment of rummaging. It was big enough that I could only just barely wrap my hand around it.

“What’s that?” Brand asked.

“If you’d opened your goodie bag, you’d know that it’s a portable save point. It lets you make a save point to respawn to.”

Brand’s pixelated eyes blinked in curiosity. “Yeah, that…” He sighed. “Damn, that would have been really useful.”

“I keep telling you to be more patient,” I said.

He waved his hand. “I know, I know.”

“I was thinking of saving it for later,” I said, rolling the crystal in my grip, “but I have a feeling something nasty is waiting for us. So… I’d rather be safe than sorry.”

“Is this the only one you have? Or do you have others?”

“Unfortunately, it’s my only one,” I said. “I used the others on previous attempts to explore the Incursion on my own.”

“You didn’t ask Greg for more?”

“I did. He said he was out of stock.”

Brand made such a face at that. “W-What? How?”

I raised my hands defensively. “I didn’t want to push the issue. It looked like he was working on something, and was already getting pretty annoyed.”

“I… I see,” brand said.

“Anywho,” I asked, “you said there’d be a big fight before we emerge onto the other side of the mountain?” I asked.

“That was the case in all my previous expeditions.”

“Good,” I said. “So, I figured we lay down the save now, rather than risk losing everything in the boss fight—assuming there is one.”

Brand nodded. “I guess now is as good of a time as any.”

I tossed the crystal into the fire. The flames tinged with violet wisps and particle effects.

A blue window suddenly appeared above the campfire, bearing text:

Party Management

Save

I stared. “Party management?”

“I thought you said you’ve used these things before?” Brand asked.

I glanced at him over my shoulder. “I have, but I never saw this. Hmm…” I flicked a claw across my scale-flecked chin. “…maybe it’s because I wasn’t in a party when I used it.”

“Well, check it out,” he said.

I selected it with a tap of my finger. The window changed.

Party Management

Switch

Recruit

Dismiss

Brand pointed at the middle option with his staff. “Recruit?”

I glanced at him and then pressed Recruit. A wave of dizziness struck me as words suddenly swept all across the window. It took a second for me to realize that I could control them with my thoughts, and another second to realize what they were.

Focusing ordered them into a list.

They were names, and not just any names.

“What are these?” Brand asked.

I leaned toward the window. “They’re the names of the spirits I’m housing.”

But then a certain name scrolled by, and I froze the list in place.

Yuta Uramaru.

A message appeared beside the name:

Local player, requesting to join.

Brand’s LED-display-eyes narrowed.

“Yuta. Isn’t that—”

—I nodded. “Yeah, he’s the one Andalon won’t let me talk to.”

“Did you consider that you might be able to talk to him in here?” Brand asked.

I shook my head. “I hadn’t.”

“Well,” Brand said, “it’s worth a shot.”

That it was.

I tapped Yuta’s name.

Three things happened after that in quick succession.

One: Yuta appeared before us, standing next to the fire.

Two: He took one look at us and then calmly drew his katana.

Three: A character creation menu popped into being.

I guess we had our work cut out for us.