Light, blinding omnipresent light.

  Mud was floating in

  a vat of some unknown liquid, suspended in a warm, blanket silence.

  For the first time since arriving in this hell, he felt a profound,

  and absolute peace. Fear, anxiety, adrenaline, hope, anger, it was

  all gone, evaporated into the golden fog in which he now bobbed.

  High above, a giant

  numeral 5 hovered somewhere

  in the void. It pulsed, slowly fading from a rich, shimmering gold,

  to a deep, ominous red; the exact same shade as the death message. He

  watched, transfixed, as the number finally shifted.

  It

  became a 4

  What

  does that mean? He

  wondered, his thoughts sluggish. Do

  I have a limit?

  He

  didn’t remember this place from his first death against the Boar.

  Then, it had been a simple flash of light and the hard cobbles of the

  starting plaza. The rules were changing, and Mud didn’t understand

  why.

  His peaceful contemplation was rudely shattered. The liquid around

  him began to churn, bubbling and boiling as he rocked and swayed,

  completely at its mercy. He was tossed around like a ragdoll, the

  warm fluid surging over his face and up into his nose, stinging his

  throat.

  The golden fog suddenly dissolved into a harsh, piercing glare.

  Gravity

  returned with a vengeance. Mud’s knees smashed painfully into the

  unforgiving cobblestones of the starting plaza. The utter silence of

  the vat replaced by the busy roar of Horizon City. The

  chaotic memories of his death to the Lord of the Forest slammed

  ruthlessly into his skull.

  He didn’t get up, just rolled onto his back, staring up at the

  bright blue sky as the tears came. He simply let them fall, not even

  bothering to wipe them away.

  He wasn’t positive how long he lay there. He watched the clouds

  drift by, slow and indifferent in their meandering journey, oblivious

  to the fears and worries of the ants living below. One by one, Mud

  tucked his anxiety into the dark nooks and crannies of his soul, in a

  place he hid the things he no longer wanted to think about. Slowly he

  began to get control of his frayed emotions.

  Eventually, the cold of the stones began to seep into his bones. As

  he sat up, he realized he wasn’t alone.

  Layhla was sitting next to him. Her hands were wrapped securely

  around her knees, her posture uncharacteristically small. She wasn’t

  looming over him; she was just… waiting. A silent, brooding

  guardian.

  When she noticed he was back with her, she smiled. For the first

  time since they had met, the sharp and confident edge to her persona

  was missing, replaced by a touch of uncertainty.

  “Hey,” she said, her words soft and tentative. “Um. Thanks.”

  Mud blinked, her gratitude catching him off guard.

  “You really saved my ass back there,” she continued, her voice

  regaining a bit of its usual rasp, but her eyes stayed on the stone

  beneath her feet. “I don’t even know how I let some overgrown

  flying chicken get the jump on me. It’s kind of embarrassing,

  really.”

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  “You’re

  embarrassed? You should have seen what he did to me…” Mud

  shuddered

  as the memories of the fight resurfaced, before he was able to force

  them back down, one

  hand involuntarily reaching for his face and touching hesitantly

  at his eyes.

  “That monster was three times your level, Mud. Don’t be so hard

  on yourself,” she said, her shrug uncharacteristically nonchalant.

  “The fact that you did any meaningful damage at all is commendable.

  To be totally honest… even I was barely able to finish it off.”

  They sat in silence for a while, simply watching the evening light

  stretch across Horizon City.

  “Hey,” she asked, her voice dropping into a timid, hollow tone

  he’d never expected to hear from her. “Do you… do you actually

  remember your life? Like, before you came here?”

  “Yeah,

  for the most part,” Mud said, looking down at his hands. “My name

  was Chris. I spent a lot of time in games kind of like this. Probably

  too

  much, now that I think about it.”

  “Chris…” she whispered, the name sounding foreign on her

  tongue. “That’s a far better name than Mud. Why didn’t you just

  stick with that?”

  “I didn’t get a choice. This was just what was handed to me by

  the ‘all-loving’ system that runs this place.”

  Layhla

  went quiet. She stared at the flickering torches of the plaza, her

  expression distant. “I…

  don’t remember anything about my life before Horizon,” she said,

  the

  words barely more than a whisper.

  “But I know it has to be there. There has to be

  left of me. Right?”

  Mud reached out instinctively, his hand hovering inches from her

  shoulder, but he pulled back at the last second.

  “Hey, don’t worry about it,” he said, trying to force a bit of

  optimism into his voice. “Eventually, we’ll beat this game, and

  I’m sure it’ll all come flooding back. You know?”

  “Yeah, maybe,” she said, her voice trailing off.

  He sighed. “Honestly, there are times when I wish I could forget

  some of my own memories. It wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows back

  there, either.”

  “Do

  you want to meet at the same time tomorrow?” Layhla asked. She

  stood up, brushing the dust from her leathers. “I’d like to keep

  adventuring together. If you’re still willing, that is.”

  “Yeah. I’m in,” Mud said with a firm nod. “But I have a

  favor to ask. There’s something I feel like I need to face. Can we

  hunt Boars tomorrow?”

  Layhla’s brow furrowed. She seemed confused by the sudden gravity

  in his voice. “Of course. I mean, they’re roughly your level now

  anyway.” She shrugged, clearly missing the personal weight of the

  request. “Oh hey, I almost forgot. We got some loot from the owl. I

  want to split it with you.”

  She

  flicked her wrist, her fingers danced through her inventory menu

  before a trade window shimmered into existence in front of Mud. She

  deposited two hundred gold, and a bundle of ten black owl feathers.

  “Take these. The feathers can be used to craft some strong low

  level gear,” she said, nodding towards the trade district. “You

  should visit the blacksmith before we meet up tomorrow.”

  ***

  After

  a restless night haunted by visions of headless, oven-roasted turkeys

  chasing him through a blood-red sky, Mud made an early start. He

  used the

  familiar task of baking to chase away memories of the Lord of the

  Forest.

  He moved through the communal kitchen with practiced efficiency.

  There was no hesitation in his hands; he navigated the space like he

  owned it. Once the first batch of savory smelling biscuits was tucked

  safely into the oven, he wiped his hands on his apron and thumbed

  through his summon menu.

  With a soft chime, the Forest Imp materialized on the flour covered

  counter-top. Its tiny, dark eyes darted around the kitchen in a

  mixture of confusion and curiosity.

  “Masta!

  You’s not deaded!” the little creature chirped. It hopped towards

  him, looking truly pleased to see him in one piece. “Did you killa

  Ol’ Yellow Eyes?”

  “Not

  exactly, but he’s dead,” Mud said, his hands moving rhythmically

  as he began to knead the next batch of dough. “Old Yellow Eyes

  won’t be bothering anyone again.”

  “Well, good. Now big birdy no eats us.” The Imp perched on a

  nearby stool, watching Mud’s hand with intense fascination. “You

  make the little yummies? The crunchy funs?”

  “Yeah, I’m making biscuits. Just like the one I gave you when we

  made our deal,” Mud said, with a pleasant smile. “When they’re

  done, you can have one.”

  The Imp’s reaction was not what Mud had expected. He let out a

  wail of pure grief that echoed through the stone kitchen. “Masta,

  you so kind! I was big bad at notta helpin’ with birdy! I hid like

  a tiny worm… Sorry, Masta! Sorry!”

  “It’s okay, really…” Mud paused, his hands hovering with a

  pinch of flour. “What’s your name?”

  “Name, Masta?”

  “Yeah. What do the other Imps call you?”

  The creature’s large ears drooped. “Mostly jus’ that I

  stupid.”

  “Well, I’m not calling you that.” Mud reached over and patted

  the Imp’s head. “How about Chedda? Like the seasoning I use for

  the yummy biscuits?”

  The Imp’s eyes went wide. “Chedda? Me? Oh I likey!” He began

  to jump up and down on the stool in excitement. “Hey, um… can I

  help?”

  Mud

  looked at the Imp’s fingers, which were currently encrusted in

  dirt, grime and who knew what else. “Well, not like that. You need

  to wash your hands first.”

  “Wash, Masta?” Chedda asked, the concept clearly alien to his

  entire existence.

  “What have I gotten myself into?” Mud muttered, reaching for a

  bucket of water.

  As the name solidified in Mud’s mind, a window flickered into his

  peripheral vision, confirming the new addition to his roster.

  [Forest

  Imp (Chedda) LV. 2]

  [One

  with the Forest]

  Camouflage. Chedda

  can blend into natural environments with near 100% efficiency as long

  as he isn’t moving.

  [Speak

  with Animals]

  Can understand and

  communicate with animals

  [Drain

  Nutrients]

  Chedda can siphon

  energy directly from the earth, plant life, or some consumed items to

  heal himself or others.