Melia flew through the air with a huge grin on her face, resisting the urge to roar. Flying was so freakin’ fun!

  Life was good. She had a new, powerful body, with all of her old favorite classes, and she had a small group of wonderful friends she was excited to get to know better. She felt they’d made some good progress, grouping up, killing wolves, hunting some sheep, and bonding over the little things. She was glad she could help Y’cennia start gaining some levels, and she was looking forward to seeing what Ellesea thought about haste-based arcane spells.

  If this trip to Lakeridge went smoothly, they’d all gain a few dozen more levels. Soon they’d hit level 400, rank 4, and they’d need to start thinking about mounts. Level 40 in the game was when players first had the option to buy mounts, and it really cut down the travel time. Not needing to walk everywhere would be a really huge boon.

  Of course, real life knew this first, long before any game ever implemented player transport. It was simply amusing to Melia that her first thought was to wait for a certain level milestone rather than doing what any normal person might do and buying a horse.

  …were horses in this world sort of like fantasy cars? Did people need to finance a horse?

  Silly thoughts.

  Melia shook her head to clear her mind and free her face from the cloud she was flying through. Midsummer was supposed to be bright, cheery, sunny, and hot.

  Not susceptible to sudden blizzards.

  Part of Melia was intensely curious why two [Frost Giants] were suddenly causing a ruckus where they shouldn’t be. Unlike the [Obsidian Dragon] that attacked the abbey, these two fools weren’t directly related to Melia waking up in Ebonvale.

  …that she knew.

  If they did, and she found out, she was going to have some words. She was not on board with being some lame deity’s plot device!

  Though, for all Melia knew, maybe this was simply a generational [Frost Giant] migration or something. Maybe they did this every 50 or 100 years. She played the game for close to 15 years, from beta to when she passed away, but in the grand scheme of things, 15 years was chump change.

  It only took her a couple of minutes to cross the rest of the Sienna Mountain zone and start climbing above the Frostrim Mountains.

  …what was with this naming scheme?

  So, the “Sienna Mountains” she could sort of understand. The developers modeled this zone after parts of Utah, Nevada, and Arizona. The coloration could be sienna…Melia wasn’t actually super-informed on arts and crafts. She didn’t have any [Painter] class in game, and she was bed-bound long before she could discover the joys of drawing.

  But really, if color was the only thing going for it, the developers should have called it the “Sienna Desert” or the “Rusty Roughlands” or something. Sure, this could be a type of “high desert”, maybe, but for stereotypical deserts, with sand dunes and cacti and camels and stuff, that was what Oasis was for.

  And depending on what side of the mountains people were standing on, they had a different name. This huge range created the border for at least 4 zones, and it had just as many names. Coldridge Mountains, Frostrim Mountains, Deepholme Mountain, Searing Spires…there were probably even more that Melia didn’t know.

  She passed over a narrow gouge in the imposing peaks, a thin valley that allowed access between Lakeridge and the Ashlands, little more than a cleft in the rock barely large enough for a carriage to travel through. Once upon a time, a huge gate forged by the dwarves stood large and imposing, barring the way. It warned of the dangers beyond and kept curious travelers safe. Melia could see the remains of an old guardhouse and the wall itself, the gate inside still standing, but it looked very old and decrepit. This way must no longer be in use.

  Which made sense if she recalled one of the earlier quests she completed in her quest to finish them all.

  This gate was actually the back entrance to the Ashlands, more of a shortcut than anything. If players took the flight path to Lakeridge and traveled north, it saved them several minutes of flying time compared to looping around through Deepholme and coming out to the far north of the zone. But the gate needed a key, and lore stated that it was lost.

  There was a monster inside the Ashlands that ate the dwarven guard who held the key, but the key itself was made of some hardened metal, indestructible in the beast’s belly. A player wouldn’t have any reason to attack the beast except if they already knew it dropped the key or they were bored, and since it roamed in isolated nooks and crannies, few players found it. Outside of hardcore raiders and lore masters, anyway. Just killing the monster didn’t immediately grant the key either; it dropped a quest item, which sent the player to the dwarves. Discovering what it was and then reforging it. For early players, before the developers mostly did away with keys to unlock doors blocking paths, this was their first experience with quest chains.

  None of that mattered to Melia, as she flew over the ridge, mountain, valley, gate and all. She had the key, of course, along with several dozen other ancient keys, now relics of the past. Her key ring was full before it became obsolete, and she was pleasantly surprised to find it in her inventory. Following the ridge northeast, Melia focused on the closest funnel of storm energy rising from the peaks.

  [Frost Giant]

  Elite

  Level: 1244

  Melia frowned and landed on a peak about 500 yards away. In the game, this would have been more than far enough away to avoid detection from a hostile mob. As Melia touched down, her claws clamping down onto rocks to find purchase, the Giant instantly turned toward her. These particular [Frost Giants] were not the typical humanoid giants, for all intents and purposes being normal humans scaled up to an impressive degree. They were closer to [Elementals]. Their bodies were made of gigantic boulders held together by mana rather than bones or ligaments; humongous ice-grey rocks segmented into arms, legs, a massive chest, and a relatively small head.

  A head shaped like a roughly tumbled stone with holes for eyes, out of which a pale blue light shimmered.

  The giant continued to stand in place, channeling the storm, but the glowing eye sockets were locked onto Melia. She wasn’t sure how, but Melia got the impression that it wasn’t so much tracking her to attack as soon as she got close, but trying to decide if it needed to flee.

  Melia almost pitied the thing. And she scared herself slightly, too.

  Her first thought, after determining that it needed to die, was disappointment that it wasn’t edible.

  …technically, she could digest rocks, but they tasted gross and offered no nutrients, so why eat them?

  Melia sighed and decided to get it over with.

  “You, sir, are a menace,” she said conversationally as she flapped over and landed a few yards away from the monster. The [Frost Giant] did not respond, or even make any indication that it heard her words, its eyes still locked onto the sudden appearance of a giant dragon. Melia supposed few creatures rivaled giants in size. This giant stood around 30 feet tall and had to look up at Melia, who might have been longer than she was tall, but her head still raised to around 80 or so feet. It stared at her, hostile but unwilling to attack, likely knowing instinctively how futile that would be, continuing to funnel a storm.

  “It’s supposed to be summer,” Melia complained, like some gigantic draconic Karen complaining to her homeowner’s association about a neighbor with an unsightly lawn. “Can’t you wait for several more months before doing this?”

  The giant, of course, was silent.

  They remained locked in a staring match for several minutes until Melia was certain the monster wasn’t rational. Even the most awkward of introverts would have squirmed after such prolonged eye contact.

  “I’d say that I feel bad about this,” Melia…apologized, “But I really don’t. You’re just a beast, aren’t you? Still, I don’t want to draw this out.”

  Prolonged suffering wasn’t on the menu for Melia. Despite her capacity for extreme violence, she preferred to make things quick…if probably not painless, she had to admit. Getting cut to pieces in a [Whirlwind] was most likely a horrific and gruesome end. So she decided to finally take a look at her actual class and see what it offered.

  …no. Absolutely not. She would not be using any of those, not now, hopefully not ever.

  But she couldn’t use the majority of the skills she normally would in a situation like this, because she was technically unarmed. Things like [Backstab] or [Whirlwind], any of her [Steps], even a very basic [Strike] required a weapon. She raised a claw and stared at it.

  …monster dragons usually had some sort of swipe or rake attack, right? Her claws were sharp enough to shred most metals like cabbage, so why couldn’t she just…paw at it? Melia shifted her glance from her still raised claw to the giant. It stared back at her, face impassive and body unmoving. For kicks, Melia imagined it saying something silly, like “plz no,” or the like.

  “Let’s get this over with, shall we?” Melia said brightly.

  [Frost Giants] were elite monsters and were supposed to be pre-runners to [Froljnar the Frozen], a world boss. They were rank 12, strong enough to require a full-sized raid at the very least.

  But Melia was level 3700. Where did she stand?

  Melia focused on her mana reserves deep inside her and forced the strange, nebulous power into her arms. The gigantic claws, like jagged shards of obsidian glass, glowed with a dim purple light. She focused her attention back on the giant, suddenly deadly serious, lunged forward and let out a cry.

  “Raaaauuuggghh!”

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  She raked down her claws…and they ripped through the animated stone like a hot knife sliding through butter. The monstrous energies binding the boulders together instantly snuffed out, and with nothing tethering them together, all the remaining boulders that hadn’t been reduced to pebbles fell to the ground in a heap of rubble.

  The funnel of channeled energy in the sky was cut and immediately started dissipating as it ascended into the atmosphere. Melia stared at her claw, no longer glowing with arcane energies.

  “Huh.”

  At the very least, she thought she’d need a few strikes. Melia knew level 3700 was a bit obscene, but she didn’t understand exactly how far from reality her power really was.

  Essentially, she was a raid boss to raid bosses. The ultimate endgame world boss. No wonder the system called her the “Destroyer of Worlds”.

  Melia leaned her neck forward to peer into the rubble. While she did not come all the way up here to grind for drops, she could feel the pull of loot. Treasure. Her treasure.

  She shook her head and let her fingers, if that’s what her hand-claws could be called, root around on their own. Eventually, two claws settled on something very magical, and she pinched them together gently to bring the object closer. It was a clear blue stone, like a rough, uncut chunk of quartz or an ice cube. Between Melia’s fingers, it felt tiny, like a breath mint, but it was probably several feet in diameter.

  [Frost Core]

  Rarity: Epic

  Level: 1200

  Crafting Material

  An elemental’s heart of stone, cold as ice.

  Hmmm. Could be useful. Melia pocketed the rock into her inventory and flew to the next peak.

  The second [Frost Giant] offered no extra resistance and fell just as fast. It, too, dropped a core, and Melia stashed it with its twin. Melia’s task was almost done and she could fly back to her friends.

  She raised her head and looked toward the tallest peak, the mountain above Deepholme.

  Melia could have probably left the world boss alone. It was far enough from Lakeridge that the storm it was funneling probably wouldn’t affect the zone. This thing was supposedly the source of endless winter upon these peaks and what gave the dwarven lands their famous, snowy look.

  …did the dwarves resent it for denying them summer?

  Melia shook her head. Regardless of what the inhabitants of Deepholme thought, if they hated it or revered it, or frankly didn’t care…this thing needed to die. Through actions Melia didn’t understand, the boss was directly responsible for threatening her hoard. It had the audacity to trifle with her. It dared.

  [Froljnar the Frozen] was a level 1500 world boss, the highest classification the game gave to enemies. Thematically, they were the strongest monsters in the world, on par with the final boss of every expansion, if not even higher.

  Even after several years had passed and several expansions had been released, the original world bosses from the base game were not pushovers. Players still needed to group up, in normal groups if not raids, and they needed to be aware of specific fight mechanics or else they’d wipe. Melia was curious how a real world boss held up.

  On visuals alone, he was quite striking. Unlike the [Frost Giants], [Froljnar the Frozen] was an actual humanoid character. He looked like the basic human model, only scaled up to 50 feet tall. He had broad shoulders, thick, muscled arms, and that chiseled, Dorito-shaped torso that spoke of superheroes and bench pressers. He wore heavy furs over his deep blue skin, thick boots, a heavy skirt or kilt, but no shirt, his bare chest covered by nothing but excessive hair and a leather harness. Hanging over one shoulder was a fur cape, the head of a woolly mammoth, looking tiny and decorative as it was used as a brooch to clip the cape to the harness. His wild, back-length black hair flew behind him as the storm he channeled raged, his black eyes crackling with malice and lightning.

  Melia stared into those eyes for several long moments. She ran [Identify] multiple times, checking over and over and over again, but this thing, which looked so very human, was a monster. She called out to it, but it did not respond. It did not belong to Humanity, and it would kill the mortal races if it had the chance.

  So she had…limited qualms with killing it in turn. Melia supposed she would never be comfortable taking the life of something that looked so human, even if she’d done that countless times in the game, and even more if her RP lore was to be believed. Secretly, she was glad.

  Heck, not so secretly, too. She valued life. She wouldn’t let herself become numb or desensitized, or overwhelmed by her draconic instincts.

  …besides, ol’ [Frolny] would respawn in a few weeks.

  “Excuse me!” Melia shouted, making sure she could be heard above the raging storm without actually roaring. She didn’t need to summon any more dragons to attack the abbey. “But it’s summer! Can you chill out?”

  Melia twitched. Not the time for puns.

  “I mean, stop? Come back tomorrow? Maybe the next day? No?”

  [Froljnar] neither heard nor cared.

  “Maybe go vacation up north? It’s been a century! Surely you can hash things out with the fam?”

  The intensity of [Froljnar’s] storm may have risen. It was probably a figment of Melia’s imagination.

  “Fine then! Give me good loot when you die, please?”

  Melia flapped over, slightly amused that she had to work slightly harder to fly against his blizzard than the ones she pierced through earlier. The difference between a rank 12 and a rank 15 could not be denied.

  Which meant the difference between a rank 15 and a rank 37 was laughable, wasn’t it?

  Melia [Raked] down her claws against [Froljnar], flinching as she cut him open. Perhaps because the other giants were elementals, but the sight of blood and gore spitting forth surprised her, and she recoiled in surprise.

  But with his throat torn open and his chest gouged thoroughly, even [Froljnar the Frozen], rank 15 World Boss, died in one shot.

  Melia stared at her handiwork, dazed. She craved a world where she could lounge around in her real form without fear, without regret. But would she be allowed to? Not because people could make her stop or force her, but would they run away screaming? Would she, too, inflict [Fear] upon those around her simply because she existed? Could she handle the pressure of constantly holding back her strength so she didn’t obliterate innocent bystanders?

  She desperately hoped so.

  A glint of golden light caught Melia’s eye and she lowered her snout to the ground. There, in the giant’s exposed chest cavity, was something…shiny. Melia carefully picked it free and held it up as best she could to one of her eyes. Eyes that could spot tiny details, even miles away.

  [Frozen Heart of the Mountain]

  Rarity: Epic

  Level: 1000

  This is a quest item. Somebody might be interested in this.

  Behold, and with this triumph I will light our forges and fire our hearths, and it will be as a lasting heirloom and symbol of our people. May we prosper and thrive throughout the ages to come.

  -Darion Ironsledge the 1st, on retrieving the still smoldering elemental core from the corpse of Soltus, Firelord.

  Oh. A quest item. Melia didn’t know that was actually a thing in the real world. She knew of Darion Ironsledge, first king of the dwarves. Thongral was his direct descendant. She should probably return this thing to them, at the very least, but she’d need to see what her teammates thought about it first.

  “This is a joke, right? We’re all hallucinating, right? Things can’t get that strong. Nothing can get that strong. That’s…that’s….”

  “Impossible?”

  “Unimaginable?”

  “It lies in the realm of the gods.”

  Jessica, Ellesea, and Y’cennia all turned toward Alastair. Normally, he would be the even-tempered, level-headed foundation reminding them all to revere the gods and maintain realistic expectations. For him to be the one offering such hyperbole stunned the girls, who stared at him in shock. He retained his calm, composed demeanor, but his hands shook. He wrung his wrists in front of the fire to give them something to do other than worry his nerves.

  [Sunrise] did not even contemplate leaving. They briefly considered packing up their tents and putting everything into storage, but an overwhelming feeling of…being lost, settled on the group. Now that the true identity of their mysterious new member was finally revealed, they felt adrift. Floating between disbelief, awe, fear, and plain incomprehension.

  Ancient stories existed of a thing so powerful, so remorseless, so unfathomable to mortal minds, it was often regarded in the same breath with the same finality as death. The same reverence and scope as Armageddon. The bringer of the apocalypse, the harbinger of doom, the herald of destruction and the end of the world.

  The figure in those stories varied. Seldom was it depicted in the same way twice. Usually, it was given a vaguely male form, like an ancient soldier with a shrouded helmet and a giant spear, or a cloaked and hooded figure bearing a reaper’s scythe. Regardless of its appearance, it was uncompromising and unyielding. Where it appeared, life ended.

  And then, during the Age of Upheaval, it was theorized that the world was at a breaking point, where the gods' own backup plan might be necessary to cleanse the world and start anew. That things had gotten so dire, so awful, with horrors plaguing mankind so catastrophic that Humanity would fall. To the point where the Destroyer actually manifested. In the flesh.

  And as [Sunrise] now knew, taking the form of a gigantic black dragon.

  Those fools a century ago were so drunk on their own power and absorbed with their own greatness that they nearly condemned the world to extinction and rebirth by cleansing fire.

  Those people, such as the Executor and his cult, were human. They weren’t even monsters born of mana. They should have been fighting alongside Humanity instead of tearing it down.

  As strong as they were, even now enshrined in dungeons, they paled before the Destroyer. Level 3700. What would the Executor say if he saw that? Would he still proclaim himself above the gods?

  …would he change his reverence and worship the dragon?

  Would the Crimson Court still feed on the flesh of man and hide from the sun, emulating the Vampires they held so highly?

  …would they instead graft themselves with parts of monsters to become more draconic?

  Or would they all, every single one of them, rank 10, 11, 12, possibly higher…simply fall down and tremble?

  “Do you really think she just woke up after a century of sleep?” Ellesea eventually asked.

  “She once said she was grievously injured,” Jessica shook her head. “I have a hard time imagining that. What could injure something so strong?”

  “An army?” Y’cennia asked. Ellesea shook her head. “Two?”

  “Maybe all the armies of Humanity put together,” Jessica sighed. “If all of them joined forces and led a concentrated attack. Maybe. Maybe.”

  “Who would even try?”

  “Hubris,” Alastair said. The others turned to him.

  “It’s an old story,” he explained, “One of Cromwell’s. Old Heroes, at the end, no longer having anything to point their swords at, turned on each other. It’s said that after the final threat was slain and the Age of Upheaval finally ended, the gods’ favor for the Heroes waned. They found themselves mortal, at least in this life. But they were corrupted by power, blinded by greed. They’d killed, destroyed, or laid low every threat to Humanity, and they’d been rewarded in kind. Riches. Fame. Power. Levels.

  “What if they needed more? What if they couldn’t stop? And so they turned to the last, greatest, most powerful threat. Which surely tempted them with unspeakable riches and unthinkable gains?”

  “A very sound theory,” a voice said. The voice, as Meliastraza suddenly appeared, striding toward them. “One I do not currently care to speculate on. Apologies for the volume.”

  [Sunrise] sat, frozen, staring at the giant dragon like prey caught before the predator.

  A massive sigh escaped her scaly lips. She strode forward until she towered above them all, her behemoth claws inches from their tents…and was suddenly engulfed in a blinding light. In the blink of an eye, right before them, the gigantic figure shrank and condensed into itself, growing smaller and smaller, until it was only two and a half feet tall. Unassuming. Innocent, if slightly mischievous. The pale gnome with amethyst eyes, milky skin, and shockingly pink highlights amid her obsidian hair.

  “Muh…muh…muh…,” Ellesea muttered, but she couldn’t bring herself to say the dragon’s name. Perhaps Jessica was made of firmer fiber, or maybe her fear spoke through her.

  “Destroyer,” she whispered in awe.

  The clearing once again grew silent, the crackling of the fire all but forgotten.

  “Ah,” Melia wilted. “I knew this was going to happen. Why do you think I didn’t want to tell you my real class? A little bit more…extreme than a simple [Archmage], right?”