I woke in Mayer’s guestroom, a radiant day to greet me through the large window. How lovely.

Aside from the pain, but that was quite alright. I could deal with a little bit of pain, but what I wasn’t sure I could deal with was Mayer.

How the hell was I going to do anything even close to as extreme as what I did yesterday. My body was royally fucked, beyond belief. My muscles felt like they had been torn in half and sewn back together again. I glared at my stats, bloody minded. So much for being a videogame character.

I sighed to myself and pushed myself up from the comfortable bed. I didn’t have much of a choice. If Mayer had a plan, then I could do nothing but to follow it. He seemed like a nice enough guy, all in all—I just don't know how he'd take me saying no. I don't know him well enough to even speculate.

Each step I took made me feel like I was bleeding from my pores. I don’t think I’ve ever been in this much muscle pain in my life.

I trudged over to my clothes—laying on the floor where I dumped them yesterday—and I put them on. I moved the shirt over my head slowly, trying not to agitate my arm or back muscles in the process.

Walking through the surprisingly heavy door of the guest room, I made my way to the living room—where I knew the devil himself would be, lounging about drinking tea. Only stopping before the doorway to catch my breath before I willingly walked into hell. I took a deep breath in, trying to relieve myself of the worry that comes with every new day on this planet. I exhaled and walked through the doorway, greeted with the sight of the older man sipping on tea and reading a book that seemed relatively old.

“Ah, young Maximilian. Nice to see that you have awoken from your slumber.” The old man said in a mockery of what seemed like a rich, posh asswipe. Looks like things stay constant amongst worlds, there still existed the pompous rich and those that mocked them. Though Mayer’s accent was rough around the edges to say the least.

“Oh yes, my dear Mayer. I had just a wonderous dream! It was truly spectacular. You see, it was a dream in which my poor old body didn’t have to move itself today! No pain and a great deal of resting for me—insanity, I know.” I said, doing my best true posh English accent, a little bit frilly to add a pompous air to it. Mayer looked at me, mutely surprised. He raised an eyebrow, a small smile working its way onto his face.

“You’re pretty good at that, are you highborn in your world? I assumed you were a commoner based on your accent.” He asked curiously. I scoffed imperiously at his disparagement of the Australian accent. Which only happened to be entirely true. I let a grin grow on my face, settling into the day's more relaxed atmosphere.

“No. Not even remotely. I come from Australia in my world. Australia isn’t a big fan of Kings and Queens. A lot of the values of our country come from harshly exiled criminals. Those exiles originally came from a country called England, which was a powerhouse on a global scale back in the day. Our accents are derived from their accents. Why?” I said. Mayer’s face entered thought mode.

“The origin of this world is quite similar to you own country. Many people that did not conform were sent through to this planet as way of execution. It has been around two or three generations since then, I think. What was once a collection of murderers and thieves—most for moral or lawful reasons, mind you—is now an actual functioning world. To an extent.” Mayer chucked lightly. I laughed too.

“Let me guess, it’s still a bit of a jungle out here. Lots of crime, lots of lawless areas?”

“Precisely, hence why I am here on this rock—instead of the other one.” Now it was my turn to frown. I had sort of assumed that Mayer was a bit of a lord here. He seemed to be treated quite well by the townsfolk, judging by the look he’d gotten and the scant conversations I’d overheard. I wouldn’t be surprised if he had such a position.

“You are the lord of this place, right?” Mayer looked at me dumbfounded.

“Of course not, I couldn’t ever be the lord of anything. I don’t think that I’d ever be able to deal with the social parties and conniving, political interactions all day. I think it’d melt my brain inside my skull from the mixture of boredom and bitterness. I just hold a sword and hit people with it real good—otherwise I’m a bit of a chump.” Mayer laughed at himself, giving me a distinct impression that he was way underselling himself.

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“So, then why are you here? What is it that could pull you over here if you aren’t interested in capturing a slice of land and ruling it zealously?” The old man’s face twisted into a grin.

“Because this is where all the nasty beasties are. And where the nasty besties are, I usually am.”

“Oh,” I said, not enlightened but more of a ‘I probably should have just guessed that one’ kind of ‘Oh’. “So, I assume that this place is used as execution lands for particularly devious criminals or naysayers. A kind of ultimate punishment then?”

“In a way. All sorts were sent here years ago because of some war that happened, but now there aren’t really any being sent anymore. Those over there,” Mayer pointed in the rough direction of the other planet, orbiting this one, “have forgotten about the people they sent here, which I can’t help but find interesting.”

“Interesting? Why?” Mayer took a deep sip of his tea, thinking for a moment.

“Well, on that other rock floating around this one—Orisis—they haven’t even found out that countries are forming on Virsdis yet. For years, one of the things that has been keeping some of those countries politically stable has been wanting to get back on Orisis.” I looked at him confusedly.

“Why would Virsdis want to go back to Orisis? They’d get into a war as soon as they stepped a toe on Orisis. There is no way that Orisis will take kindly to it, and I can only assume that Orisis is far more powerful in general. Teleporting across worlds can’t be that easy, right?” Mayer nodded, crossing his arms after placing down his tea.

“Well, life is hard here. Many believe that if they could simply get back to Orisis, their life would be made easier. Some people want war, to strike back against those that once oppressed them. But the real push comes from those that have made their way into power. For years they have been convincing others that war with Orisis is inevitable and important, even. Honour is a massively important feature to Orisian culture and Virsdis is much the same.” My eyes widened, dumbfounded.

“I’m going to be honest. That sounds like just a bad idea on all fronts. What stake does the average Virsdisian have in this whole war scenario? Are they just going to throw themselves at Orisis, farming hoe first? Against a society that can send people to a planet they orbit?” Mayer laughed lightly.

“I suspect so, boy. Orisian honour lives strong on Virsdis. They want to take from Orisis, rightfully so. But it’s a difficult political matter. Many only have revenge to guide them. Those that live on this world are only a few generations deep. The wound is still raw.” I rubbed my face in exasperation, plopping myself down in the chair opposite Mayer dejectedly.

“Mayer, you said that this happened a few generations ago. What about all the people that grew up here, never knowing Orisis, never knowing what it was like? Never really understanding what it was that happened over there aside from stories told by their Mother and Father. Maybe they hate Orisis in their parent’s stead. Maybe they would even stick a spear into a man’s gut for their parent’s honour. But what about their children? When it is a story that grandpa once told dad who is telling them? Would they have the same hate that their father has in their great grandfather’s stead? What about the generation after that? Do they remember at all? Or was it just something they heard about from a friend’s Dad?” The man held his hands up in surrender against the barrage of frustrated questioning, consoling me with a look.

“I understand, Max. I do. But even after generations this will be a political goal for King after King. It will only be a few more generations until something is produced, and then a war will begin, if it hadn’t begun before then. With the next Champion War somewhere on the horizon I wouldn’t be surprised if it gets significantly interrupted. But, well, there are also other reasons to want to leave Virsdis, Max.” I quirked an eyebrow at that, ready to hear some silly response, but what I got was a… little more compelling.

“On Virsdis there is an ancient race called the Nightfell. They are few in number but are immensely powerful. There are only legends of old warriors fighting against them and eventually banishing them to Virsdis. They live on the dark side of Virsdis, a place so dangerous that I’d need to think twice about going.” His face was deadly serious. Not a silly response then.

“These Nightfell… how powerful are we talking?” I asked hesitantly.

“More than powerful enough to make Champions stay away from them in the last wave. It has been seventy years since then, and they haven’t gotten any weaker.” He responded dryly. I grimaced, realising I’d been working on half the information. Mayer hadn’t told me, but still.

Then I remembered back to my first day here, as I looked up at the beautiful sight of Orisis’ night cloaked sky as it orbited across Virsdis’ vision of the sun.

I had made a bet. A stupid, stupid bet. The words echoed in in my ears, even as I scrunched my face in embarrassment.

‘If this world was a stereotypical game, that'd be where the 'Demon Lords' were, right?’

“God damnit, why’d I have to jinx myself.” I grumbled, and Mayer raised a bushy eyebrow in response.