“You can use it if you like, miss, but don’t go flaunting your deep pockets, okay?”

“…Pardon?”

“Deep pockets”? This? That’s ridiculous.

Going to a shop and selling one pill that boosted your attack power for thirty minutes could earn you about forty gil, and even a shovel cost less than ten gil. However, Cayna’s plan to take these numbers and mentally approximate the cost of a night’s stay had completely backfired on her. When the proprietress said four coins were enough for ten nights, Cayna realized how badly she had to reassess her financial know-how. She was beyond relieved that the first person she encountered in this world had been an upstanding NPC like the proprietress.

There was no end to the questions running through her head, but her top priority at the moment was finding out why the village had fallen into decline.

“I feel like this village used to be livelier, no…?”

“It’s been about four generations since we had business like that. Ever since the nation of Felskeilo was established, no one needs us anymore.”

“…Buh?”

Cayna’s brain short-circuited the moment she heard this completely foreign name. It sounded like a mashup of the White and Green Kingdoms’ names, and she once again found herself wondering in bewilderment, Huh? Am I not inside the game?

The proprietress left the lost Cayna in the dust and continued on. “They say that two hundred years ago, seven nations constantly waged war with one another and stirred upheaval anywhere and everywhere. The gods were so angered by their unsightly fighting that they chose leaders from among humanity to lead the people. These people worked hard to unite the world into three countries, and now here we are.”

One of the farmers who had stayed even after finishing breakfast began heckling the proprietress about her impromptu history lesson.

“Quit tellin’ Li’l Miss Adventurer here stuff she already knows!”

“Shut yer trap! Get back to the fields, all of you!” she shouted.

The farmers got up and hurriedly left the inn.

Cayna was now the only customer. The information from that exchange sank her deeper into thought.

Aren’t those seven nations part of the World of Leadale VRMMORG I was just playing yesterday?

There were no set classes like soldier, priest, or mage; instead, you obtained four thousand different skills. The game had a high level of freedom that allowed you to play as an avatar whose race, equipment, and skills were completely customized to your specifications.

That freedom earned it the mockery of netizens who sarcastically referred to the game as a Wild West of sorts. A large-scale Battle Event held each month decided the gain or loss of territory among the seven nations, and every player went crazy over it. When a nation took a certain domain, they were granted special, limited-edition event items. Even though so many people logged in to discuss detailed strategy the day beforehand that it would crash the server, it was also pretty funny to see countries that couldn’t manage to get online until the day of the Event end up in the dust.

To hear that those seven nations—White, Green, Red, Blue, Brown, Black, and Purple—had existed two centuries ago shattered Cayna’s grip on reality. How was she supposed to live in a game she used to play now that two hundred years had passed? Anxiety loomed over her as her prospects turned increasingly grim.

First, it was imperative that she familiarize herself with this world. There was no question the list of things she needed to learn in order to find her footing was growing longer by the moment. A certain someone would totally laugh in her face if she froze up because of nerves.

When that despicable face that got its jollies from other people’s misery came to her mind, she couldn’t help but feel that a little anxiety was more or less the spice of life.

“…At any rate, if you’re speaking of such bygone days, I take it you’ve been here before?”

“Huh? Um, well…”

Cayna knew it would be flat-out foolish to answer I logged out just yesterday! so she kept it ambiguous.

“You’re an elf, right, miss?” the proprietress asked.

“Ah, yes, I am,” Cayna replied.

Her current body was that of her game avatar. Before leaving her room that morning, she had used her Truth Mirror—an item distributed during certain events—to confirm this. As the name implied, a Truth Mirror showed your true form. It had no other functions.

When she nervously stared into it, she’d expected to see the emaciated girl who had been laid up in a hospital bed. Seeing her avatar reflected back at her, Cayna was momentarily overwhelmed. When she tugged at her bangs, the strands had shone with a subdued golden hue. Her hair was shoulder-length. She had deep-blue eyes and, of course, distinctly pointy ears that stuck out like a sore thumb. These ears were proof she was from a race of long-lived demi-humans.

Cayna had chosen the high elf race, which, unlike regular elves, specialized in fighting from the back line. She went with this simply because high elves had the highest possible INT and MP stats.

Even though each race had its own basic battle moves, once some users deemed a particular one to be the “lamest,” no one would pick it. High elves like Cayna were tanking in popularity of late, and it was quite common to hear of fans forming high elf–only teams.

“Yes, I came here just once in its heyday…,” Cayna started. She answered honestly, since she figured there was no reason to hide it.

The proprietress beamed.

“I see. So, miss, you know how the village was back in the day. To think a regular would return to our inn after all these years. It warms my heart.”

Cayna just smiled awkwardly and let the woman assume she visited the inn often.

“Oh, right, I’m Marelle, and this here is Lytt. Relax and enjoy your stay.”

“Thank you, I appreciate it. My name is Kei…Cayna.” She adjusted her posture and introduced herself with a bow.

“Quit bein’ be so formal!” Marelle replied, thumping her on the back. It made Cayna a little happy.

As soon as Cayna excused herself and returned to her room, she quickly set about checking herself and everything she had on her. When she pulled up the stats screen, the initial information read:

Name: Cayna

Level: 1,100

Race: High Elf

Title: Third Skill Master

In World of Leadale, you could exceed the maximum level of 1,000 by another one hundred levels by completing a special quest.

This level-breaking quest was a serious beast, and most people considered the event a necessary evil. Even Cayna’s own guild had recruited members and nonmembers alike to take it on and failed countless times.

Finally, a huge four-party group of twenty-four managed to clear it. Some had even legitimately cried, which provided a pretty good picture of the quest creators’ sadism. When they at last succeeded, each party member had shouted, “Screw you, Admins!”

After that, no rumors of anyone else beating the quest surfaced, so those members were essentially the strongest in the game.

***

The merits of a high elf were 10 percent Battle and Skill Bonuses when surrounded by nature and the use of Eagle Eyes.

The deficits were found in Craft Skills, since it was impossible to cultivate necessary plant ingredients by your own power. Cayna often gathered these by asking available guild members or buying them from vendors.

The title of Skill Master was an honor bestowed upon those who mastered 1,500 Magic Skills and 2,500 Craft Skills to equal 4,000 total skills (though the designers continued to add more). Cayna had been given the title of Third Skill Master, since she was the third out of the fourteen people to master every skill.

That title was the very reason Cayna preferred logging in and out of this remote region as she pleased without venturing into other territories.

Along with the honor and title came the automatically obtained Skill #4,001 called Scroll Creation.

Therein lay the problem. With this ability, Skill Masters like Cayna could record the skills they possessed onto parchment, making it easy for other players to obtain them without embarking on annoying quests.

However, whenever she met players face-to-face, they constantly demanded she “give me this” or “give me that.” The Skill Masters got fed up with this and submitted a petition to the Admins to do something about it.

The Admins had tried to deal with it, but an incident occurred in the process where one person ended up having a nervous breakdown and quitting the game altogether.

In the end, their solution was to have the Skill Masters take on part of the Skill Transfer Quests normally handled by NPCs. Each Skill Master was then assigned a location of their choosing.

The goal of these Skill Transfer Quests was to reach the summit of each location. Word of the new rule that anyone who succeeded in these difficult quests could have any skill they wanted spread throughout the game like wildfire.

The locations of the Skill Masters differed greatly and tormented the players to no end.

A beautiful building filled with lethal traps at random intervals.

An undersea fortress known as the Palace of the Dragon King that was unreachable without magic that allowed one to breathe underwater—and of course, there were the sea monsters inhabiting the depths.

A castle in the sky that was completely hidden unless you used Flight and Eagle Eyes simultaneously.

The entrance to a temple whose location changed every day. Even after you finally managed to pinpoint it across the entire mountain range where it was located, the inside turned out to be an enormous dungeon.

Half these quests were too frustrating to be any fun.