“Stop!” a voice rang out from above the pit, “Stop this at once!”

  The branch descended, igniting a searing pain across his right cheek. He screamed, his instinct to shield his face thwarted by an earlier blow that immobilised his right arm, though that pain paled in comparison. Bloodied, he shielded his face with his left hand, bracing for another strike that never came. The Prized Possession halted, its head swivelling to identify the source of the shout, and lowered the branch immediately. Relief swept over him; the shout had spared him a shattered skull. Cautiously, he peered around the imposing figure to see what had stayed the attack. Reacher, the one who issued the command, stood with an arm extended, beckoning them towards him whilst clutching a big bag of sorts. By his side was a slave, previously absent, presenting the bag. It took a moment for recognition to dawn—but he recognized the long hair belonging to Montgomery, breathless and drenched in sweat, as if he had been running for an eternity. What did he do?

  He pondered whether this signalled the end of the fight. Less than five minutes had passed, yet the Prized Possession did not question Reacher’s command. He tossed the branch to the ground and began a purposeful stride towards the Baron’s seat. As the distance between them widened, the sign above his head became clearer. It was a grey, almost transparent box with a darker grey outline. At the top was the title ‘Prized Possession’. Directly below, a light green bar missing a small segment on the right side, represented by a slightly darker green, and beneath it, a light yellow bar similarly incomplete. Both bars shared the box’s outline and were swiftly refilling. Below the bars, text read:

  LVL. 10 Life Points: 1875/1890 Stamina: 89%

  As the bars replenished, the Life Points and Stamina figures rose. Life Points? Is this what Varyan meant? The God of Life’s Protection?

  The Prized Possession was climbing out of the pit when the sign above disappeared. He was left in a haze of confusion until Reacher’s voice pierced through again.

  “Get over here!”

  He attempted to lift himself, but his right arm faltered. Something was wrong. He resorted to his left arm to push himself up, blood trickling warmly down his jaw. That will definitely leave a scar.

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  As the shock ebbed, he noticed the instability in his steps. En route to the pit’s far side, he observed the Baron’s litter being raised and carefully borne away. By the time they reached the pit’s edge, only Montgomery, Reacher, and the armoured knight with the massive axe remained. What happened?

  Attempting to haul himself from the pit with his left hand, he found himself too short to reach the edge. Reacher looked over to Montgomery and with a quick nod ordered him to help. Montgomery hurried over to the edge, with some effort, managed to pull him up with sweaty hands.

  “You’re alright, Recruit,” he whispered and as if to assure himself of it, he repeated: “You’re alright.”

  Without warning, Reacher tossed them a flask, and he knew he had to drink it. A few gulps, and the dizziness and pain evaporated, his stance steadying. His cheek ceased bleeding. Yet, his right arm remained stubbornly immobile. Reacher gave him a better look and nodded.

  “You were a slippery one,” the Mace remarked. “That beast had to use a Paralysing Blow.”

  Reacher extended a hand, sending a small orb of light shooting into him. Instantly, he regained control of his right arm, triumphantly raising his fist. That man can cure anything!

  “Thank you so much,” he said to Reacher with a beaming smile.

  Reacher actually smiled back, a gesture so alien his enthusiasm abruptly waned, recalling him to his circumstances. The Mace noticed and grew serious once more.

  Cautiously, he addressed the Mace: “What happened? Where’s the Baron? What about the five minutes?”

  The Mace scoffed: “You wanted another three minutes in there?”

  Receiving no response from the slaves, he shifted to answering properly, gesturing towards Montgomery with his mace.

  “You’ve your little friend over there to thank. He found the gems you left in your Inventory and brought them here. According to the Baron’s self imposed rules, the fight is null, and let’s say he wasn’t pleased.”

  Montgomery added: “I spotted them in the sack while cleaning the pickaxes and knew something was amiss.”

  “Silence!” the Mace barked, and Montgomery retreated apologetically.

  “But they weren’t there before,” he protested to Reacher.

  Reacher pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing.

  “Listen, I don’t know what kind of game you are playing, but if I were you, I wouldn’t piss off the Baron,” Reacher said, his tone calmer, less belligerent than usual.

  What is he on about?

  “You can take the easy route—just explain why a level one Player would choose to blend in with the NPCs—or the hard route. Just know, that the Baron has his way of getting around PVP laws.”

  “I don’t understand why you’re calling me a Player or NPC or PVP. I arrived here through a large gate this morning. I remember nothing before that.”

  The Mace hesitated, something about that response troubling him. The armoured knight behind Reacher was quick to interject.

  “It’s settled then,” the knight declared, “to the Slaughterhouse with you.”

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