“One of the strongest dueling classes in the game, the Battle Master class comes in two variants: Sword Saint and Lancer. Sword Saints can dual wield and receive spell and combination attacks based around the concept. Lancers can use their weapons from range and gain increased movement speed towards enemies.”— Annwyn Online Players’ Guide.

  The Ruined City of Araedi. Day 01.

  Kayla had been Krait’s strength when he had been weak and lost himself in the bottle after getting fired from his job. She had still been his strength when she had gotten her cancer diagnosis.

  He should have been there to comfort her as she had him, but he had been too drunk to accompany her to get the test results.

  Krait hadn’t intended to carry things as far as he had back at the guildhall. All he’d wanted was for the guards to strike him down while he’d been holding that old man. He had hoped that an act of violence on him by the guards would have caused him to wake up in his bed far away from this place.

  The reaction to tap “yes” to enter the game when he’d heard that familiar startup melody had been pavlovian and because of that, he had failed Kayla.

  He had been given the perfect cure for her. His own aches and pains that had come from over twenty years of abusing his body doing hard labor had healed when his mind had been transferred into this body.

  Kayla could have been cured if he had just given her her laptop first before logging himself in.

  Krait slammed his fist on the table hard enough to crack the wood and break his pinky finger. Pain flared through his hand for only a moment before the injury instantly healed itself at the cost of a few hitpoints.

  He glanced around the room. Either no one had noticed his outburst or they chose to ignore it. Probably a mix of both.

  After sulking away from the Guild building, Krait had found a ledge to throw himself off of, hoping that would wake him up. But in the end, he couldn’t go through with it. He was a coward and was weak. Not that it would have mattered after finding out that he wouldn't have been able to die.

  After that, Krait had wandered inn to inn until he wound up in some hole in the wall of some tower on some street he couldn’t make himself give a shit about. All around him, people danced to a recreation of a pop song from earth he was too old to know the name of.

  The bartender had definitely noticed his outburst. The weathered-faced man put up a mask of polite disinterest as he asked, “Can I get you anything?”

  It was the same mask the doctors and nurses had given him and Kayla each time they shortened her lifespan with each visit. He wanted nothing more than to punch the man.

  He settled on a different option. “The strongest thing you’ve got.”

  He’d ordered the same thing at each inn, yet couldn’t get himself to drink it each time. He had given up the bottle nearly a year ago when Kayla had first received her terminal diagnosis and some small part of him couldn’t make himself drink even now when he felt he deserved it most.

  “Actually, he’ll have the sweetroot with two shots of your finest whisky,” a man’s voice said. After a brief pause, he corrected himself, “Make it three shots. And one for myself, both drinks are on me.”

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  Krait stared down the bartender. “No, I won’t. Get me what I asked for.”

  “Trust me, you don’t want whatever paint thinner you’re about to get.” The man took the open seat beside Krait, his tone was cool and friendly. “Sweetroot and whisky is the closest thing you’ll get to a rum and coke. And what they call ‘whisky’ isn’t even a proper whisky.”

  “How do you know anything about what I want?”

  “I know that I saw your outburst at the guildhall today. A lot of people did. And I think they’d agree with me when I say that was the outburst of a man hurting.”

  “I was angry in the moment. I didn’t mean what I said.”

  “I think you did. Because you’re a loving husband who wants to get back home to his wife. And I believe you really will do whatever it takes to make that happen because Sonnet robbed you of your choice in coming here. Of bringing her here with you. Of curing her. And trust me, there are plenty of us who feel the same way. I, no, we could use your help figuring out a way home.”

  Krait peered over his shoulder just long enough to get a good look at the man. His status information showed he was a Summoner, the same class Kayla played. He was a thick mustached man dressed in a sharp black suit with a grey tie and matching cape. Above his head, his name, Baron, with a zero instead of an O, was printed in the gold color of one of the Vanguard.

  Krait rolled his eyes. “You spend all day working on that sales pitch?”

  Baron gave a shrug. “Not quite all day.”

  “Well pitch it to someone else. I’m not interested.” Krait turned his back on the man, hoping he would take the hint.

  The bartender returned with the two drinks Baron had ordered and a third that was presumably the one Krait had asked for. He set the tray down without lingering and went back to the other patrons. Krait liked a man who understood when someone wanted to be left alone and he revised his earlier assessment on the bartender. Krait told himself he would leave extra coin to fix the damage he had done to the table.

  “We’re holding a meeting tonight at the guildhall. You’re welcome to join us.” Baron paused, his expression suddenly going cold. “I will find a way out of this prison.”

  The Summoner stood, his amiable expression returning as quickly as it had changed. He picked up his drink, took a sip from it, and set it back down on the table. He reached into his pocket and set a folded piece of paper down beside the three glasses. “When you decide you want to help us bounce ideas, come to this room.”

  Krait glanced at the piece of paper and Baron turned to walk away. After letting him take two steps, Krait turned and called, “I’m pretty sure none of you even know where to begin. How are you going to get anywhere bouncing ideas when you haven’t the faintest idea what the fuck is going on?”

  Baron stopped, but did not turn around. “Man didn’t think it was possible to leave the earth until we put a man in orbit. Not even a decade later, we put two men on the moon while another circled it. This isn’t so different. Only this time, the answer’s already been given to us. We just have to work backwards to figure out the equation.”

  Baron left without another word. He met with a person wearing white light armor and a white, featureless mask that revealed only their mouth. He leaned in and said something to them before the two left the bar together.

  Krait was left alone with the three drinks. He picked the one he had ordered, something clear with a slight haze to it, and brought it to his lips. The sharp scent clawed at the inside of his nose and he immediately pulled it away.

  He glanced down at the two remaining drinks, which looked back at him like a pair of golden brown eyes casting silent judgement on him.

  Krait set his drink down and pushed the tray away. He could almost see Kayla sitting next to him, her gaze pleading him to not take the drink.

  That man is a fool, they’ll waste their time without knowing the first step to recreating whatever brought all of us here, Krait thought. And no sooner had he finished it, another thought entered his head.

  They didn’t need to know how it was done or even work on reversing it. They only needed to find the ones who had done it themselves and force them to send all of them home. And Krait knew exactly how to get their attention.

  Krait read the meeting information on the note Baron had left before crumpling the paper and dropping it on the ground. He stood, set a few gold coins on the counter, and walked out of the bar, leaving the three drinks untouched.

  The end of Part One.