Red-hot pain seared through his head, spreading through him like lightning striking through storm clouds. His consciousness writhed with agony, swimming through an endless vacuum. Visions sped past faster than he could decipher them—flashes of vivid colour against the black.

  He couldn’t tell whether it took a minute or an hour, but it all suddenly halted.

  The void. The images. The pain.

  That had never happened before when he’d logged into the game. Normally, it hardly registered more than a light warmth across his forehead. Now, he felt like he’d been put through a washing machine and tossed around hundreds of times. He could feel aches in muscles he wasn’t even aware existed.

  His eyes fluttered open.

  As they adjusted to what little light there was, his confusion only mounted. His mind was still catching up, his head throbbing a little with the lingering pain. His neck ached as he tried to move his head around—he had a crick like the cold had got to him. His limbs felt heavy, tingling with sensation as blood sluggishly flowed through them.

  He lay on a thin straw mattress but now that he was awake, he became aware of the bitter cold of the stone floor beneath. He could feel the linen shirt and pants that he wore and there was a thin sheet pulled up to his neck. It hadn’t worked to keep out the cold. Several feet above him, sunlight barely shone through gaps in the wood but it was enough to make out the shelves that lined the walls to either side of him.

  Outside, he could hear the soft rustle of leaves and a timid rattle of the ceiling.

  He wasn’t sure what he had been expecting. If this were the game, it should have started where he’d last left off. In a dry field. With chickens. Either this was some sort of new starting area, or perhaps even more concerning—someone had taken the time to put him down here.

  Beneath the thin sheet, he opened and closed his fists. Curled his toes. Felt the blood slowly circulating through them, like an old engine sputtering back to life. His muscles ached with a dull throb, his neck stiff, his body lethargic. It felt like he’d been at the gym and needed a post-session meal and a deep-tissue massage.

  Still, he was strong enough to move. Just about.

  Tentatively, he propped himself up on his hands, the sheet falling to his waist. He allowed himself a couple of breaths, then bent his knees and stood, joints groaning like they needed to be oiled, his legs shaking as if unused to his weight. He looked around the small space. It could have maybe fit two people side-by-side and was just over eight feet tall. The shelves on one side were split by rungs stuck into the wall leading to the ceiling above and what looked like a door with a rotary lock.

  All the shelves were empty except one. It contained what looked like a letter, held down by a sheathed dagger on one corner, a small container on another and a bottle of clear liquid on a third. Beside the letter was a change of clothes.

  He reached out and carefully moved the weights that held the letter down. The script wasn’t English or any other language that he could recognise from Earth, and yet, he knew exactly what it said.

  Caleb,

  I am Kingsley Doman, the trainer for un-Awakened Tamers. If you’re reading this, it means you have finally woken up.

  You’re in an outdoor cellar, outside my home in the forest. The cellar is well hidden. You will not be found and I ensured it can only be opened from the inside.

  I’m sorry I had to leave you behind.

  I’m not sure when you’ll get this, but almost sixteen months ago, the Rupture happened. The world has changed in that time.

  When it happened, you collapsed and fell asleep. So did the others at my training grounds, but they woke up within minutes. You did not. I brought you to my home, kept an eye on you here. Other than being asleep, you seemed healthy. We looked after you in the hope that you would wake up.

  You didn’t and now it’s become too dangerous for us to stay. Kobolds, goblins, and other creatures have emerged from the mountains and roam the island.

  I have to leave with my family. I hope you understand.

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  If you have woken up, head north to the coastal town of Fishervale. Hopefully, you should be able to find a boat to the mainland, but I need to warn you to be careful. Not only are monsters all over the island, the Awakened have changed. Many have used their strength to take over. Our island has fallen to one of them. Annihilation. Be careful if you come across one of their number. They are not to be trusted. In fact, if there are any Awakened on the island, they shouldn’t be trusted.

  If you do make it off the island, make your way to Riven in the Kingdom of Aleria. You will find safety there.

  I’m not sure what equipment you have. I have left you a dagger, some enchanted water, some heartloaf bread and a change of clothes.

  Again, I’m sorry. I wish I could have done more for you.

  I pray for your safety.

  If you make it to Riven, seek me out.

  Kingsley Doman. A trainer. An NPC. Who had taken it upon himself to keep Caleb safe for sixteen months.

  NPCs didn’t do things like that.

  Yet Kingsley had. Not only that, he’d left him instructions.

  Caleb had been asleep for at least sixteen months, if the letter were to be believed. And he had no reason not to believe it. For every hour in the real world, no less than a month had passed here.

  Jasper wouldn’t know that though. He would have been in here for at least sixteen months thinking that Caleb had abandoned him.

  Again.

  That’s if I’m not already too late.

  The thought skittered across his mind unbidden, but he pushed it back. He needed to focus. Jasper was alive when he put the helmet on. He would be alive now.

  He scanned over the letter again. Especially the bit about the Awakened. Kingsley had to be talking about the players, like the few other tamers there’d been, and guilds like Annihilation.

  Guild names were unique in the game. At least, they had been and if it was the same Annihilation, that would mean it was Caleb’s guild. The one he and Jasper belonged to. One of the best guilds in the game, always within the top three globally when it came to raiding and the majority of the members were some of the strongest players.

  And now Kingsley was warning him away from them. Caleb didn’t know what to make of it. Many of them would know him. He had hoped they would help him.

  Caleb glanced at the dagger, the water and the container that must hold the bread, when a ping sounded in his ears, followed by a notification flashing in the top-right corner of his vision.

  {Quest Available}

  The same ping—like the tapping of a bell—and the same curly-bracketed notification that he had seen and heard thousands of times before.

  He stared at the notification, his lips pressed together. It flashed twice more, before fading away. The text was so crisp. There were no slightly blurred pixelated edges. And no matter how immersive the VR tech had been, while playing he was always aware of the weight of the helmet on his head, but the ache in his neck was receding, not increasing like it normally would. He glanced around the room, noticing the movement of the rays of sunlight; the shadows on the edges of the room changing depending on where he focused; the way the room blended light and dark in a way no screen ever could.

  It was all too real.

  “Notification,” he whispered.

  [Quest: Escape to Fishervale]

  Do you want to live or not?

  Well, what are you waiting for?

  Do as Kingsley says and get yourself to Fishervale.

  Rewards:

  3g 8s 25b

  XP: 2,400

  [Accept: Yes | No]

  The white text appeared on a translucent black screen, suspended in the air a foot in front of his face. He reached out with his hand to accept the quest like he was making a selection on a physical tablet. The screen felt just as solid, his finger pressing against the [Yes] button. In the game, there was never physical feedback when interacting with the UI.

  When he pressed yes, the writing dissolved away.

  His past had seen him have his fair share of mind-altering experiences, but this psychedelic merging of reality and game was beyond anything he’d previously experienced. He’d need to get used to it but it did confirm that he was on Cytheria and had access to the UI.

  “Menu.”

  The list of commands appeared on the same translucent black screen.

  [ STATUS ]

  [ ATTRIBUTES ]

  [ SKILLS ]

  [ MASTERY ]

  [ PROFESSION ]

  [ EQUIPMENT ]

  [ INVENTORY ]

  [ QUESTS ]

  [ ACHIEVEMENTS ]

  [ FRIENDS ]

  [ MAIL ]

  [ JOURNAL ]

  [ MAP ]

  [ HUD | Combat ]

  [ NOTIFICATIONS ]

  [Mastery] stood out. That was new but he was more concerned with the two missing commands. [Character Selection] and [Log Out]. The latter not being there would be why players were trapped inside—they had no way to leave.

  [Character Selection] meant he couldn’t access his other characters. Especially not his main. He played a max level Goliath Sentinel Warrior. The best tank in the game. It was a little slow and obviously didn’t compare to the DPS classes for power, but had he been able to access it, it would have been perfect for finding his son. There was a lot of damage he could take and negate with his main and it still packed a punch. He would’ve felt more comfortable facing whatever was out there.

  It didn’t matter, though.

  “Friends.”

  The command pulled up a list of all the people he had friended in the game. Mostly, they had been members of his guild, but there were a few from others. Smaller guilds that Caleb had joined when he needed a bit of a break from the intensity of being in one of the best guilds in the world.

  Four names stood out in bright white at the top, with more greyed out beneath but nigh-on half the list was missing. He sucked air through his teeth. Either those were players who weren’t logged in. Or worse. They had been, but weren’t anymore.

  He scanned the names frantically.

  His heart skipped a beat, a small smile crossing his lips as his eyes settled on what he was looking for.

  Jasper Stone

  His son was alive.