Stretching her arms over her head, Astra swished her tail and laid her ears back with a yawn. She’d been feeling odd since getting up from an unexpected crash hours earlier. It was the first time she’d ever had that happen while playing a VR game. “Maybe it’s an update?” she wondered aloud and squinted through the tree canopy at the sky’s golden hue.

Tiredness was a new sensation to her while playing Ashguard. She’d been gathering herbs and materials for hours in-game. Long enough for the sun to begin dipping down behind the mountain range that bisected the main continent. To the north were the three major cities of Aesir, Vanaheim, and Nifelheim, and Astra Diane’s current location was three months’ worth of in-game travel into the unmapped Southlands.

Being a Healer Class, it was a miracle she’d made it this far by herself. Usually, she had her Porter, Xander, but she’d sent him back to Aesir to sell some things in hopes that he wouldn’t catch the plague from her.

The plague plotline had come out of nowhere for a game with very little story. But attempting to find a cure for it had been a fun use of the Crafting Skills she’d spent so much time leveling up. Unfortunately, she’d caught it too, and while Players respawned at the Soul Stones in the three major cities, NPCs did not.

Astra Diane pulled her Menu out of her pocket. “I should check on him,” she muttered. She hadn’t been feeling the plague symptoms since her crash earlier. Her Menu, a Scroll that always existed in her pocket, was a touch screen once unrolled. Swiping through the tabs, Astra selected her teleport list.

As for the symptoms, they were miserable. It was similar to having the flu, but in her mind, the tiredness and aching in her body lingered even after logging out. Earlier that day, she’d collapsed in-game and woke up several hours later. Astra felt fine now, so she supposed the plague had run its course, and she was free to return to town.

Being in the Southlands for so long by herself was lonely. She was, after all, a squishy Healer Class and tended to rely on the fact that she could heal herself to get through fights with monsters more than an actual strategy. She knew she wasn’t a very good Player.

She glanced top left to see her and Xander’s health bars. The Porter was at full health, as was she. Top right, she could see the in-game time, which only showed hours and minutes of the day. That was the extent of Ashguard’s HUD.

If she wanted to use a Skill, she had to remember and activate it. There weren’t easy buttons that stayed in view to remind Players of what they had, and the Skills didn’t organize into trees. A Skill simply got stronger the more it was used, and there were rumored to be hundreds of Skills out there to find. She did have a menu that listed all her Skills, but battles required quick thinking, and Players tended to have Skills they relied on more frequently than others.

She’d left a daisy chain of Soul Stone Shards, small, single-use devices, on her way through the Southlands. They weren’t very durable, as other Players or monsters could destroy them, but they lasted a week in real-time. The most frequent complaint about them was that Players couldn’t respawn to them. They were available as teleport locations in the list, great for a quick run back to one of the major cities for a minute, but that was it.

Astra stared at her empty list.

What the heck?

She was some distance from the last one she’d dropped, and the others were older, leading up to the Player town at the edge of the Southlands, but that didn’t explain why they were all gone.

“Ugh.” Backing out of her teleport list, she moved to Inventory to get a Soul Stone Shard. That all of the ones she’d dropped in the last four game-time weeks were gone was only an inconvenience if she died. She wouldn’t have a quick way back to her current location after respawning at the last major city she’d been in. The faster she got one activated, the better.

Astra activated the item and dropped it just as she heard shuffling in the bushes.

Looking up from her Menu, she met the eyes of a Razor Boar mid-charge. “[Dodge]” died on her lips as the two pairs of tusks ripped through her midsection. Pain like she had never felt before overwhelmed her senses. She collapsed to the ground. Her armor, which was as high-quality as she could make it, had protected her a bit from the attack, but the Boar continued to slash at her as she lay helpless on the ground, unable to think past the pain.

A tusk caught her in the throat, and a terrible coldness descended upon her.

Her consciousness hung suspended in darkness; before her were the options to Wait or Respawn. Choosing Respawn, her body exploded in sparks of light, teleporting back to the last Soul Stone she’d attuned to.

Astra wheezed out a moan of residual pain as her feet touched the pavement. Gripping herself, she shivered. Her pain setting must have gotten changed. Had they updated the game? Maybe that was why she’d passed out earlier.

She now stood in the Soul Stone Plaza of Aesir, a city built on the mountainous shore and sprawling onto an island within visual distance of the rocky beach. The architecture resembled ancient Greco-Roman, giving it an air of philosophical sophistication. It was her favorite city, and it looked gorgeous in the setting sun’s light. However something was off.

Why was it so quiet?

Turning away from the Soul Stone, she found that the plaza, usually bustling with Players coming and going, was filled with market stalls and a crowd that was just trying to get their last bit of shopping done before it got too dark. While physically, Players and Non-Player Characters were identical, the system showed Player names to other Players in text hovering over their heads.

There were no Players in the crowd.

The stall owners and their customers stared at her, pale, jaws agape. A Human grandmother had dropped her basket of apples directly next to Astra. A Lycanth woman clutched her cub to her chest.

* * *

Something had changed today.

Since noon, he’d felt as if he’d been reconnected with something that had been missing for a very long time. He glanced up and right, checking the time. It was nearly seven in the evening. The sun would be setting soon.

“Divine Brother, is something wrong?”

He looked down at the young man who had been pestering him for the last fifteen minutes. Xander was on his way to the dining hall to get something to eat, but Prince Rufus el Aesir had popped in for a visit. Not to see the Holy Mouth, but Xander. Once again, he was disappointed by the people of Ashguard.

Prince Rufus stared up at him with deceptively clear blue eyes, his blond hair perfectly swept back from his forehead in the current noble style. While Xander had once been susceptible to this kind of innocent gaze, he’d grown weary of it two hundred years ago when he’d joined the Church of Leviathan. Just because the Cursed Ones were the most powerful beings on Ashguard didn’t mean they needed to intervene in every petty squabble.

“No,” Xander said. “I have given the matter some thought and humbly decline the opportunity.”

“But we need you!” Rufus objected, hurrying to move in front of Xander, blocking his way. The boy was only sixteen, and so Xander couldn’t bring himself to be too hard on him, but at the same time, pestering like this was rude.

“I am aware that you think you need me,” Xander said, quick on the heels of the prince’s whining. “However, you propose war with Vanaheim, and I have little interest in serving in another large-scale conflict.”

“Your healing abilities are unmatched—”

Tired of the conversation, Xander walked away.

Being over five hundred years old had its advantages. He was allowed to walk away from conversations with royalty. Even though he wasn’t the Holy Mouth, he’d held Prince Rufus’s grandfather when he was in diapers at one point. Humans lived such short lives, but even Xander’s Elven compatriots had withered and died of old age some time ago.

Xander was one of the Cursed Ones, having chosen to make a pact with an Immortal in his youth. Last he’d been told; there were only a few hundred left of them. He was undoubtedly one of the very few that decided to continue living a public life, despite the damage and disruption the others had caused when the Immortals had disappeared from the world.

“Please, our people will die in droves—”

“Then perhaps your father should rethink having a war.”

“But—”

“[Stop].”

Rufus halted mid-stride, body unbalanced, but the magic prevented him from even blinking. Frozen in time and unable to protect himself, he helplessly watched as Xander looked him over with disgust. “Rufus el Aesir, know this: I do not answer to the monarchy of any kingdom, and I certainly do not answer to incessant whining. You would do well to learn how to state your case to me and accept the answer I give, regardless of whether you like it or not. Do not pester me again, boy.” Turning away, Xander successfully walked away from the conversation, leaving Rufus to suffer through the remaining fifty-second duration of the spell by himself.

Xander inwardly sighed as the notification that his Stop Skill had leveled up appeared in his peripheral.

Rufus meant well. He had a good heart. He cared about his people’s well-being, but he was still a child who didn’t understand the consequences of the politics he was being used in. The Cursed One knew the king had put it into his son’s head to ask Xander directly for help. He’d been a bit soft on the boy since he nearly died at birth.

Reaching the sanctuary, he stopped to stare up at the shrine to the Water Dragon Leviathan. Still, he couldn’t pinpoint what was different about today.

Aside from Prince Rufus harassing him, there wasn’t anything he could think of. War with Vanaheim had been on the table for ages. The flying city frequently levied high taxes on any caravans going through the forest below, regardless of whether the goods were headed to Vanaheim or Nifelheim beyond.

The recent increase in hostilities coincided with the Cursed One, Johnas, taking over the city ten years ago. That had been a surprising coup after many years of peace. Xander had thought that the fight over Vanaheim’s throne had been done, but apparently, this guy thought not. While Cursed Ones could die, killing them wasn’t easy. They’d had five hundred years to level up their Skills. Xander’s Skills were all from the Healer Class, a Class rarely chosen by the Immortals. Johnas’s was Warrior Class and then some.

Xander had met the man a long time ago, a Lycanth with multiple facial scars. He’d always been a crass, mouthy meathead, but his sudden play for power was just... different.

In any case, Xander wanted nothing to do with it.

He was a Healer. While he had the Raise Undead Skill, he detested using it; as such, he could only command a legion of fifty for a half hour. It had always been just enough time and resources to allow him to escape harm since his Immortal had disappeared. He didn’t have the luxury of dying now that she was gone. There weren’t many people with Healer Skills, as he could only make Scrolls that capped at level fifty. That was just enough to Resurrect someone with a few percentages of health. [Cure] at level fifty wasn’t enough to keep someone alive during a fight and was best used after it was over.

He sighed.

Xander didn’t miss those days of the endless war between Immortals, but he did miss her a little. She’d never spoken to him much and often seemed irritated that he needed anything. But she’d always Resurrected him as soon as possible and had kept him fed with the best food he’d ever had, even now. The clothes and armor she’d provided still outclassed anything he’d found to this day. She defended him from attack. She’d given him Skills that leveled infinitely. She’d had him carry her things and occasionally sell them on the Immortal Markets.

Life had been much simpler back then, despite the danger and exhaustion.

She would disappear for days, sometimes weeks, leaving him to fend for himself. Thankfully there were zones he could hide in that the Immortals couldn’t enter or attack. But he always knew when she returned.

It felt like...

Xander gasped, his gaze flicking up and left. That space, which had been empty for so long, now held a ghostly green bar with Astra Diane’s name beside it. Astra Diane’s health dropped suddenly, then hit zero.

The acolyte who had been tending the Holy Waters nearby started, looking over at him.

Her health sparked and refilled with the red glow around her name to indicate she’d acquired a Death Penalty from respawning.

He knew instinctively that she was at the Soul Stone Plaza.

Clutching his heart, Xander rushed towards the sanctuary door, only to stop when the captain of the Royal Guard stepped in. The Giant man, resplendent in golden armor that glimmered in the waning daylight, rumbled, “Divine Brother, your presence is required by the king.”

Damnation!