Red Birthmark - Chapter 32 - Louadorable (2024)

Chapter Text

The proxy, Haniel Elohim, wasn’t anywhere to be found in that forest city.

The company’s small band of gallant adventurers were walking down a small dirt track, riddled with holes and wet murky puddles, in an expansive silver birch forest. The sparkling silver leaves above twinkled as the gusty breeze rustled through them.

It felt like torture to walk down such a poorly constructed country track for the city-conditioned Benjamin. Sure, the Backstreet’s roads and alleys could be badly surfaced. But there was something innate about nature somehow being able to create the ultimate trial and test of endurance for the human body.

His feet progressively chaffed as they subtly fought to keep him upright and moving along the bumpy pathway. The soles at the bottom of his feet constantly felt blistered in pain, and Benjamin’s ankle throbbed with tender and uncomfortable vulnerability from where he was pretty sure he had accidentally twisted it earlier; when an unfortunate misstep into a small crater he missed in the dirt path, had caused him to trip up.

“Who the hell designed walking to be this painful in this game?” Gregor muttered. The wood elf was sweaty and panting, using his wooden cane as a glorified walking stick against the road as he continued along the path before Benjamin. “If they’re not going to give us fast travel, why make the task of walking so damn painful?”

“Because it would be like this in real life.” Yi Sang stated. “The game must feature pain as we would expect it within the real world. Our brains have gotten used to common responses certain activities would cause. For example, Gregor, if I held your hand over a naked flame, your brain would expect it to burn. To block such brain signals from reaching the brainwould cause the rational part of your mind to malfunction in a way because it knows it has been burned.”

“So its realistic for the sake of making our brains more comfortable in here?” Benjamin observed.

Yi Sang nodded. “Exactly, Emil. If you left the simulation after this, you would be hit with a wave of phantom pains as the brain essentially catches up on what it has already processed all at once. The dam is unblocked, in a sense, and so every sensation you should have felt hits you at once. You can get impaled, burned and lose limbs within this game, after all. Which makes these incidents all the more traumatic and quite frankly crippling when they occur to an individual leaving VR.”

“f*cking hell,” Gregor remarked. “So what, Yi Sang? Are you suggesting we stay away from any of these things happening? ‘Cause I’m sure my funky body in real life isn’t going to respond well to that kind of stress.”

“I would have left you behind like Heathcliff if I thought it would be a problem, Gregor.” Yi Sang reassured him, his eyes focused on the scruffy wood elf. The birdman’s large, folded black wings bobbed behind him as he strolled. “You must understand, this is a side effect J-Corp is very much aware is unappealing for mass market consumption. So to work around this problem, the game allows you to feel these painful sensations, as you must, but caps the pain you would feel in these situations realistically. VR is achieved by messing with the human brain’s electrical signals after all, and so this game simply sends signals equivalent to a mediocre pharmacy store sedative. By doing this, NEO fulfils all the requirements the mind needs and prevents such a thing from occurring. Your body won’t have felt a thing when we awaken.”

“I am guessing you just don’t want to be a VR engine developer in the early stages of development though,” Benjamin uttered, jumping to the next most obvious conclusion in his head. “If they haven’t programmed any of that stuff in yet, I would imagine they get hit with that sort of stuff all the time, right?”

Yi Sang smiled at his student’s studious observation. “Correct. That was the main reason I never got involved in such projects back at my old Wing. I personally didn’t want to risk my mind and mental well-being simply because some half-wit junior within the department forgot a semi-colon in their code.”

“Faust would never make such a mistake.” The elegant witch in white proudly chimed in from the back of the party. The tall woman walked like a graceful guardian stag, the dirty brown woodland ground somehow not dirtying her pure white trouser tails. It made Benjamin wonder if she’d used a spell or something to make her majestic form invulnerable to dirt.

“I would imagine you wouldn’t, Faust.” Yi Sang responded to his other ‘apprentice’.

“Sinclair is fallible to such errors, however.” Faust added.

“Oh, come on, Faust! I never said I personally wanted to do it!” Benjamin snapped back in annoyance. She really was testing his patience here!

“It is simply a statement of fact, Sinclair.” Faust said, looking at him with her blank, wide eyes. “Computer Coding appears quite similar to this game’s magic system. Faust shall cast the arcane with utmost perfection.”

Benjamin’s arched eyebrow twitched with indignation. Is that what this is all about? She thinks I am her ‘magic rival’ or something? I don’t think this class can even cast spells, Faust!

“He’s all yours within the game, Faust. Don’t feel like you need to defend your position, okay?” Benjamin spoke amicably. The blond dog boy turned his head away from her again, focusing on his feet as he marching onward.

Supposedly, the waterfall city of Cascada was only 35 miles away from the starting city. That was the next destination of their agenda. While Agape, another potential location where Hamiel Elohim could have been, was an option, Don Quixote harboured a fondness for her old favourite city. Given that she was an expert in this place and Yi Sang was entirely indifferent to the choice, it felt fair to respect her wishes and go there. Even if this felt like the furthest Benjamin had ever walked in his life.

With a weary exhale, the teenager embarked on the daunting task of traversing the steep incline of the rugged country path. Every step felt precarious, as if a slip was imminent, and Benjamin strained every muscle to maintain his balance, determined not to succumb to gravity's pull and make a fool out of himself in front of everyone. This stark tension was not helped by the weighty axe on his back, feeling like a stuffed rucksack on the verge of crushing his already weak spine.

If Don likes this place so much, it must be good. Benjamin thought to himself, his rounded cheeks puffed out like a chipmunks as he huffed in conceneration. Keep that as a target to aim for. When you get there, you can crash out in paradise.

As Benjamin's ankle-high leather boots found firmer footing on the relatively flat ground, he suddenly sensed a peculiar presence behind him. A cold, solid object made contact with his furry tail, sending a shiver down his spine. Before he could react, a sudden yank pulled his tail with force.

“AH!” Benjamin yelped in surprise. A blunt sensation, akin to something smacking into his knee - that numbness, an uncomfortable ache, and a unnerving sensation similar to the involuntary movement of a limb that often came with such a smack - shot up his spine.

A girlish cackle echoed from behind him as the trumatised boy ceased up. Benjamin spun around, a flustered look on his youthful face.Instinctively, he reached back, his fingers seeking solace where his fluffy yellow tail connected to his body. He needed to feel the reassuring touch of his own fingers, anything to dispel the unsettling sensation—something he couldn't even quite describe—that now lingered in the area.

It appeared the towering and clanking knight in silver was no longer riding her large and noble steed, as Rocinante loyally strolled behind Don Quoxite. The girl didn’t even need to hold onto his lead as the animal simply followed like a well-behaved, trained dog.

Glancing up into the girl's mental visor, Benjamin caught sight of the smug expression adorning her cherubic features, her amusem*nt evident as she continued chuckled at the absurdity of the situation.

“Oh my Wings! Look at your face!” She cried hysterically between breaths, jutting out a metallic, pointed finger towards him. Tears of amusem*nt forming in her big eyes.

“Not very knightly of you to do that, you know?” Benjamin pouted, feeling mortified by this whole ordeal.

"I'm sorry, Sinclair! It was just too hard to resist tugging on such a fluffy, cute thing waggling in front of my face all this time! You're just too adorable!" The knight defended her actions, raising her gloved hands in innocence, the metal joints visible as they folded up into a flat palm.

“Please don’t do it again. I’ve never felt anything like it.” Benjamin requested, feeling the depressed twitch of his floppy labrador ears dropping at the top of his head. “Its really not very pleasant, you know?”

“Oh yeah! That is a bit of a side effect of the Beastman race.” Don Quixote stated, dropping her arms back down to her sides. It clanked. “Basically, the brain doesn’t really know how to deal with additional limbs that it wouldn’t normally possess. Hence, you get an almightly strange sensation when it’s tugged! Pretty useful to know when in combat with Beastmen! You don’t have to kill anyone if you can just disable them by tugging at their tail.”

Benjamin looked to Yi Sang, walking just up ahead of them, and an intrusive thought filled his head. Much like Don, a peculiar fixation had been gnawing at him throughout their journey. On and off, his attention had been drawn to fluffy ebony wings tantalisingly within reach of him, dominating his mind with their hypnotic allure. They appeared so shiny, glimmering with the faint like leaking through the silver canopy, and they appeared oh so soft.

Benjamin bit his lip in lackuster restraint, feeling a devious urge rise within his chest. All this hicking through this beautiful, if dull grey and white woodland, was getting rather boring, wasn’t it? Why not create some fun?

“Don, does the same rule apply to Yi Sang’s bird race?” Benjamin whispered to the armoured girl approaching his side.

Don Quixote gave a sneaky nod; her short golden hair bouncing around in her visor, tapping her face. “Mm hm! A little different to yours, it tends to be where the wings connect to the spine at the centre of the back.” She gave him a devious side eye, clearly having read his intentions. Benjamin could tell she was in.

Holding his fingers up and mouthing the silent words, the dog boy quietly counted down. On a closed fist, the pair very carefully began to stroll up to Yi Sang’s side. The bird wizard didn’t seem to suspect a thing as he continued to march straight ahead, his hands lazily resting in his trouser pockets.

Benjamin exchanged a knowing glance with his fellow teenager, silently communicating the signal to proceed. As they both reached for Yi Sang's back, their hands threading through his feathery wings, they synchronised their movements, gently stroking down the centre of Yi Sang's spine.

Yi Sang threw his head back in response, emitting a high-pitched squawk of shock into the canopies above.

He span around with a violated look on his face, his hands covering his chest, blushing brightly at the two devious adolescents.

The teenagers broke down laughing at the sight. Benjamin could barely hold himself together, clasping at his stomach in pain as he borderline weeped. That squawk he gave was more than enough to set him off, not to mention his mentor currently looked like a bird whose feathers had been stroked the wrong way and appeared staggered and offended by that fact.

Yi Sang's dark eyes shot a glare of betrayal at Don Quixote. "You taught him this, didn't you?!"

“Don Quixote, don’t mess around.” Outis robotic voice rebuked with a husky annoyance. “You two are the only ones who can protect us from the monsters around here. I don’t want to have to march back here from step one if your childish antics lead to our deaths.”

Benjamin turned his head and raised an awkward hand towards the clockwork woman. “Actually, it was all my idea, Outis.” He dropped his chin in embarrassment. “Sorry, I should have thought about that…”

The dopey labrador boy gazed back towards his mentor with an apologetic expression on his face. “The same to you teacher.” He said, giving an awkward shrug.

Yi Sang’s tense features seemed to relax and look slightly more forgiving of his apprentice’s mischief at this, but not entirely though. His black wings visibly pulled closer together as the Director turned his gaze back to the dirt road.

“On the topic of monsters. Do I spy some beyond the road’s boundaries over there?” Meursault commented. The human man gestured his masculine head towards shifting shadows rustling between the trees up ahead.

The robotic militant moved over towards where he said, alert and concerned. She pulled an old-fashioned musket pistol from her copper leg’s built-in holster and precisely clocked off the safety of the gun in her hand. Not that Outis could really do anything to these creatures at her level. It seemed more like a force of habit for the battle-hardened women than anything else.

Squinting his eyes to look over at the moving shadows in the distance, progressively drawing closer, Benjamin could see the long legs of giant spiders scuttling as they moved around a dead creature - a deer - they were eating off at the side of the path.

“Keep your distance from those guys.” Don Quixote warned. “They’re happy enough where they are. They won’t attack our fair party unless we prompt them to.”

She then whistled lowly, causing Rocinante to draw closer to its master.

“What are you doing there?” Benjamin asked curiously.

“Making sure Rocinante isn’t in agro range of those foul beasts!” The young knight stated, proudly examining her pony beside her. “He’s got quite the large hitbox, bless him! And let’s just say on more than one occasion, I have accidentally pulled whole packs of monsters because I didn’t account for Roci’s heftiness. I’d rather have a repeat of that when all my squishy party mates are around.”

“Mother, comfy. No share.” A tiny squeaky voice piped up. Intrigued, Benjamin followed the sound, looking over to Gregor. He highly doubted such a high-pitched voice could leave the man, even if he was trying to force one for a joke.

Gregor’s head tilted, as the dishevelled elf peered down at the small, yet pump and shiny co*ckroach still resting on his shoulder.

“Nah, they are definitely a little big to be sharing mummy. Don’t worry.” Gregor told the repulsive insect.

“Hey babe, have you got a name for that little gentleman on your shoulder yet?” Rodya asked.

Gregor swayed in discomfort. "Not really. I mean, how can I name something if I'm just going to leave it later anyway? It'll just make me feel guilty about abandoning it."

A bit further down the path, Benjamin’s dog ears pricked up at the sudden sound of gushing water, voices and a strange cleaving sound like a butchers knife wacking down on a wooden board. The boy looked up to see they were just about to round a tight corner, thick, forest floor rhododendron bushes in full bloom. There was nothing there to be seen.

But Benjamin couldn’t help but feel his hackles rising in suspicion. He had heard something and it didn’t sound like the most comforting of noises. Maybe there was simply a butcher NPCs cart up ahead? That was the nice story he could tell himself, but they hadn’t seen anything like that so far through this enchanted woodland. He was just kidding himself, frankly.

May as well be better safe than sorry, I suppose. Benjamin thought, seeing the front of the party approaching the bushes. Let’s just hope this doesn’t make me look really stupid.

“Hey guys? I think I just heard something up ahead. It sounded kind of strange, though.” He chimed in quietly. “I think there are people and maybe a river? Also it sounded like they were chopping something.”

Don Quoxite looked over to her companion with a wairy expression - clearly, whatever it was, concerned the veteran. The tall knight suddenly marched ahead of the group and raised her hand, motioning for the band of fantasy adventurers to stop.

“Nobody round these bushes.” Don Quixote ordered in her girlish voice. There was a serious look in her ginger eyes as she met her parties’ confused faces. “Hide behind them, quickly and quietly.”

“Something the matter?” Yi Sang asked, seeming rather surprised by the usual hyperactive girl’s sudden commanding presence.

“We’ve got player killers waiting up ahead, Yi Sang” Don Quixote stated, reaching for the jousting lance strapped to her back. “Probably farming their infamy rank if I had to guess.”

“Crap.” Yi Sang uttered. The cloaked Thaumaturge suddenly reached for his own blackened wooden staff in concern. He gestured with a hand towards the bushes. “Do as the knight suggests and head for those bushes.”

The group did as they suggested, splitting into two as it was rather clear not everyone could fit behind one bush. Benjamin stuck close to his teacher, feeling safer by his side. He had no clue what was happening, but he could tell it wasn’t good, and that’s what frightened him.

Benjamin peaked through the thick green leaves of the bush. He could faintly see a group of people standing on a well-used, moss-covered, wooden bridge over a rushing river. They seemed to be smashing someone’s body to a pulp with a warhammer as if to pass the time, waiting for their next victim. They weren’t uniformed in a collective garb but rather uniquely dressed in rather extravagant clothes that spoke of an elite nature. However, they appeared to be together.

“Outis, can you see what level those fiends are?” Don Quixote whispered, squatting down and holding her lance to the ready. “Your eyes will probably see better than any of ours. It will be next to their name tag.”

Outis nodded quietly in response to the knight as if to say ‘on it’.

The clockwork militant raised her hands quietly and flashed back the levels of the players with them. 5 flashes of two open palms, then she displayed a 3 with her copper fingers.

53, Benjamin mentally noted to himself.

Outis repeated this process serval more times for each of the other members on that bridge. There were about 10 people standing there. Their levels ranged from Level 90 at worst to Level 43 at minimum.

“Blasted demons.” Don Quixote swore in character. “They’ll obliterate you lot if we go anywhere near them!”

“Perhaps we should consider blowing up the bridge with a spell.” Yi Sang quietly suggested, hovering over Benjamin’s head. "That way, they will either drown from their waterlogged metal armour or be swept away by the currents of the river."

“That’s not a bad idea.” Don Quixote commented. “But you’re going to have to be really sneaky about it if you're going to try it, Yi Sang. Magic’s pretty loud.”

“I am a quick caster. I shouldn’t think we will have any problems.” Yi Sang reassured her, pulling a leatherbound book from his belt and holding it open. He then let go of it and removed his pale hand, allowing the grimoire to float there in mid-air. The avian wizard getting into position to cast.

“Mother!” A raspy and low voice hissed.

Benjamin was physically jolted with surprise when he turned around to find several prickly and furred giant spiders standing behind him.

“Mother has returned with food!”

“Hungry, so hungry...”

However, Ishmeal lacked such restraint. A small involuntary noise of disgust escaped the squid-girl’s lips at the sight of them.

“Hey, I think I heard something coming from behind that bush.” A female voice, one of the bandits on the bridge, alerted. Benjmain could see she was wearing an elaborate, if a tad skimpy, black leather toga. A katana on her side. “Someone’s hiding there.”

“You think that’s our guys?” A deeper voice man asked.

“We’ve been waiting the whole afternoon for them. I’m doubting it at this point.” Another, younger woman spoke up. She appeared to look like some kind of academic or scholar, with rounded rose-tinted glasses, a fantasy schoolgirl uniform, and a flat hat Benjamin recognised from university graduation cermonies. She held a book in her hand as she leaned against the railings of the bridge.

"Drop the attitude, Helena. We've got a bet riding on this with the other party's covering the Agape route!" Urged the robotic man wielding the massive warthammer. His painted procline face bore the robust features of a sharply-dressed man. "It's not worth the risk."

“Well, you go wack those noobs then. I’m gonna enjoy my read here.” The academic girl sighed in dismay. “Could’ve been reading in the libraries of Phoenicia right now had this not come up.”

Benjamin could hear the creek of footsteps across the bridge as they approached. The boy’s heart pounded nervously in his chest. It felt like there was no way out. Spiders one side, and murderous high level players on the other.

“Crap.” Gregor remarked with a hint of panic in his voice. He looked between the encroaching players and the massive spiders standing idly before him like a group of excitable dogs waiting for treats. Those terrifying arachnids even tilted their heads playfully, waiting for his words.

“Hey, um, would you mind protecting mummy from the big scary humans?!” Gregor begged his eager insect children. The startled man pointed a finger towards the players, stalking within meters of the group now, their weapons drawn and at the read. “They are going to hurt your mother!”

“Mother in danger?!” One of the spiders growled in distress.

Another massive spider began to head out from around the bushes. “Will not allow this. Mother brings food!”

“Yeah, that’s it! Go and eat them!” Gregor encouraged with a thumbs up as the aracanids began to move towards the players.

“They aren’t going to hold them off for long. At their level, they are going to slay them pretty quickly. But they’re a good enough distraction. Thanks!” Don Quixote stated with a salute. The knight rushed over to her pony and mounted the beast. Her visor slammed down as she sucked in a muffled bracing breath underneath the armour before she moved her lance into her dominant hand.

With a ferice battle cry, Don Quixote rode out down the path after the army of giant spiders; using the wild beasts as her cover.

She certainly caught the players by surprise. Don Quixote managed to plow her bulky lance into the face of the robotic man, impaling him through his skull. The sheer force of the blow almost detaching his dainty clockwork and whirling neck from his head in whiplash.

Benjamin winced with disgust at the sight. Even if there was no blood and gore, it still looked like it hurt and he wouldn’t want it to be him. Imaging said pain if it were blood and flesh and how much more graphic it would be. The cutesy dog boy touched his own face with a safety hand, as though to remind himself it was still there.

While he would never care to see such a thing happen to an augmented individual in real life. Somehow, his brain couldn’t perform the normal mental gymnastics it usually did. Benjamin had to think that maybe a flesh and blood man was jacked into the other end of this VR game was feeling that realistic pain as Yi Sang described. For that reason, he couldn’t help but feel sorry for them.

Benjamin watched as a blur of glistening black feathers streaked past him, Yi Sang in hot pursuit of Don Quixote.

"Everyone, stay back behind cover!" he hissed, his grip on his staff tightening. Yi Sang's gaze briefly flickered towards the startled wood elf. "Except you, Gregor. Come with me—I need your assistance!"

Benjamin watched with bated breath as his teacher ran out after her. Yi Sang slammed his staff into the ground. Several ritualistic glowing runes began to be burnt into the ground in a circle around him. His lips shifted, casting some sort of incantation.

The bird man’s vast, pitch-black avian wings spread out wide as though he was trying to scare off a predator with their sheer might. Once those runes beneath him had fully materialised, Yi Sang spun his staff around his head like he was doing some ritualistic dance. Three chunky, bright and glowing fireballs spawned around him.

With a swish and gesture of his cane towards his attackers, Yi Sang directed them at the players rushing for him. They flew out at the attackers like a catapult hurling a boiling oil ball of fire over a castle wall. Hitting one of them and sending them to the ground with its sheer power, crushing them and engulfing them in flame.

“Gah!” Yi Sang hissed in pain, staggering from his strong stance.

Benjamin watched as the tips of those black wings of his began to disintegrate and decay like a decomposing body. Feathers falling away and floating down to the ground as the thin flesh beneath blistered.

Yi Sang continued, however, repeating the same actions again. Muttering the same gibberish and sending yet another volley of flaming fireballs towards the bridge this time. No doubt attempting to knock it down.

“Oh bloody hell!” The bespeckled academic girl cried, rushing forwards at the sight, through her fellow party members; who were now progressively rising from their lazy stupor now a real challenge has been posed.

She quickly flipped to a different page of her book in her hand and began to lay down her own series of runes as she muttered. She then reached into her pocket and pulled out a lilac crystal and smashed it onto the bridge’s wooden board. A phantom nymph of luminous purple burst through the runes into existence.

“Counterspell his attack!” She commanded her ethereal creation.

The creature raised its hand and a series of runes appeared in the air in a clock like formation, knocking the flaming balls back in the company’s direction.

Oh crap! Benjamin internally swore, the boy getting ready to sprint away from the very flammable bush they were heading inwards.

However, Yi Sang was quick to react to this. He was eerily calm, almost as though he had been preparing for this exact eventuality with meticulous calculation. Holding his half-gloved palm out, he summoned his own runes in the air, and with a twitch of his dark eyes towards his target, deliberately batted them back towards the river like they were playing table tennis.

It stuck Benjamin as a strange discussion as he watched those once mighty balls sizzle out in a cloud of steam in the rushing water.

Why didn’t he send those fireballs directly back at them again? He’s entirely wasted them by doing that. He wondered. The teenager peered up at the silver beech canopy hanging over the battlefield. Couldn’t Yi Sang have sent them into the branches above them? Send them crashing down into those bastards?

Yi Sang gasped in pain, raw and gargling from his throat.

Benjamin’s heart stopping in his chest, he instinctually followed to the sound of his mentor’s suffering with concern. Those crow wings of his now showed white bone as they began to rapidly deteriorate now.

What keeps doing that? Benjamin wondered, clapping at his own chest trying to soothe the tension trapped within it.

A young man dodged past the charging Don Quixote nibbly and headed straight for the weakened mage. His pointed rapier drawn.

Yi Sang was quick to notice, though. He swung his bony hand up into the air, raising the dirty earth to smack them right in the face, decapitating the individual as it formed a wall of stone. Their head went flying off, hanging by a thread of gory artery as their body limply dropped to the dirt path.

"Agh!!!" Yi Sang screamed in agony, barely managing to stay upright as he leaned heavily on his staff for balance. One of the wings on his back snapped off entirely, disintegrating into grey ashy dust as it struck the ground.

"Gregor! Get over here and heal me, will you?!" Yi Sang growled, his voice raspy and strained with pain.

Surprised, Gregor peaked his head out of the cover of the thick green foliage of the bush. “What?! I can’t do anything at my level! Your like, well, f*cking 70 levels above me!”

“Magic is not scaled by level!” Yi Sang explained, his voice stern and studious despite the agony he was in, “Any level, will be fine, what matters is the mana pool you are pulling from. For me, it is my body, In your case, Gregor, it is nature!”

The Katanna-wielding women suddenly smashed through the stone wall and continued her fallen ally’s quest to reach the powerful mage.

“We-Well how do I heal you then?” Gregor stammered. He briefly gave a side eye to the scantily clad samurai, with all the jiggle physics in the world, heading directly towards them. The scruffy elf glared back at Yi Sang with panic. “I don’t have a book like Faust over there!”

“Point one hand towards some sort of nature and then think about the sensation of healing. The physical sensation.” Yi Sang advised.

“Okay. Okay. I’m on it!” Gregor spoke with reassurance. Nodding his head, his ponytail behind his head bounced as he came out from the bushes cover and copied the same gesture as Yi Sang had described. His callous, leathery palm directed towards the wounded Director.

Gregor didn’t look all that confident about what he was about to perform, to Benjamin’s eye, but it was clear the scruffy man was trying as he sucked in a deep breath and closed his eyes in concentration.

Gregor proceeded to draw on the life force of the floral bush, making the plant wither and wilt rapidly, like autumn had suddenly hit in this localised area. It revealed the party members hidden behind bushes as they transformed into dead winter sticks.

Yet, in a stream of soothing green light, Gregor was feeding towards Yi Sang, the bird-man’s wings rapidly restored to their original majestic glory.

Benjamin wasn’t exactly happy his woodland cover was now gone, he felt rather exposed and vulnerable to the battlefield without its illusion of protection. Actually, that wasn’t the only thing that concerned him. Pretty much all the spiders they had sent out had been smashed into the ground by the higher level party. This was now a fight of 2 vs 8. Something Benjamin knew couldn’t be sustained, as both Don Quixote and Yi Sang struggled to hold off the flurry of attacks and counter them.

Benjamin suddenly felt another twitch at the top of his skull.

“Keep them distracted. We have almost got his location.” Someone’s voice spoke up on the far away bridge.

Benjamin found that concerning. Who’s location did they almost have? He didn’t like the sense of their anonymity breaking down.

He traced the voice back to where he thought it came from. The boy could faintly see on the bridge a holy cleric figure swaying back and forth where he stood on the bridge, swaying back and forth in a concentrated trance. Not even attempting to remotely help his party as his mind seemed to focus on something else entirely.

Benjamin’s eyes narrowed with concern at this. He certainly didn’t like the ominous nature of whatever he was doing. But there was nothing he, nor the rest of his party could do, while this brutal war of attrition continued.

And there was a stopping point for them.

Within a matter of minutes, Gregor had run out of plant life to sustain Yi Sang with. The local woodland drowned of life like a wildfire, or perhaps deadly blight, had swept through the place.

Worn down and exhausted with pain, Yi Sang’s deterioration had spread to his hands. His skin was flakey, on the edge of falling off and revealing the muscle and bone underneath. Yet, still, the staggering man continued his barrage, ploughing through with his spell casting against the enemy, with what limited stamina still remained inside of him.

“Hey, Director. Maybe you should call it quits now.” Gregor advised, seeing the dying young man collapse against his staff after shielding the party from another way of spells from the nymph summon. “Seriously, you can’t keep this up without keeling over yourself. Why don’t we just retreat? Take another path to get there. I am sure Meursault would be willing to carry you.”

“He’s right, Director.” Meursault’s low voice agreed nearby. “We need to leave and give up on this battle. You two alone aren’t going to win this.”

“We will lose Don Quixote if we do that. She is too far into the battle to retreat now.” Yi Sang panted out. He suddenly looked up with alertness. “Crap!”

The katana-wielding woman had snuck up while he was distracted with the party. She swung her sharp blade at Yi Sang’s head, which the wizard had barely dodged out of with a stumble. However, as she drew her blade back and went to thrust and jam its sharp tip into the bird mage’s sternum, Yi Sang acted calmly. With steady hands, he intercepted the impending thrust, seizing the sword before it could find its mark. He quickly muttered something under his breath, sending a bolt of lightning through the metallic weapon.

It fried his attacker. Electrocuting the woman like she had just sent a kite into a power line. With sizzling smoke, she collapsed to the ground, a lifeless corpse.

Yet, with this last burst of magic, Yi Sang fell to the floor much like his opponent, slumped over. Half his lower jaw had turned to raw bone and deteriorated. The brown leather-backed book that hovered beside him smacking to the ground limply at his side. The circle of occult runes vanishing as his concentration broke.

“Yi Sang?!” Gregor hurried over to his boss's side and fell to his knees beside him. He put a hand on the young man’s feather-cloaked back, just above where his large wings had ripped off and now left chunks of bone. “By the Wings, buddy! Don’t die on me!”

Suddenly, Faust stepped out from the bushes and strolled over to the pair. Her long trouser ends swaying.

“Faust shall take over the sorcerer's vigil.” The witch in white announced, unsheathing her staff.

She stabbed it into the ground just as Yi Sang had done. The tip of the staff just beside the fallen thaumaturge's head.

Gregor and his small co*ckroach friend on his shoulder looked up at her with a panicked expression. “Hey, Faust? Are you really sure you want to do that? I can’t heal you!”

Faust pulled her own personal pearly-white tome from her belt and gently left it to sit in the air as the dainty elven witch turned her attention to the attackers before them.

She began to cast her first spell, runes burning into the ground around the small group. Taking up Yi Sang’s mantel, Faust hurled a furry of solid ice balls at the men attacking Don Quixote. They were no different to painful snowballs in size as they collided. But, for Faust, that was the first taste of power she needed.

Benjamin saw how Faust’s eyes brightened dangerously at the sight. A creepy smile drew across her face as the eager mage repeated the same action again. Snowballs forming into sharp ice spikes this time. The skin of the witch's hand cracking.

A slow, yet awkward cackle escaped Faust’s lips, almost giggling out the gibberish of language of the arcane as she cast several more encantations again and again. Trying to snipe down those the armoured knight missed as she charged back and forth on horseback.

Unfortunately, one of those wayward attackers suddenly managed to pierce Rocinate’s leg with a thrust of their spear. The brown horse bucked in agony, sending Don Quixote flying off its back like a child without a seatbelt through a windscreen.

Slumped in pain on the ground, raising her head up to get her bearings, the fallen knight was quickly surrounded by her attackers. Benjamin could spot one of them drawing open their menu, summoning something.

He didn’t want to think about what they were going to do to her.

“Faust! You need to draw them away from Don! She can’t get up with those around her!” Benjamin cried to the witch.

But the boy’s words fell on deaf ears. She didn’t even notice him as Faust gaze fixed on the nymph defending the party on the bridge. Eyes wide and insane, high off the power craze. The arrogant, maddened mage sent all her spells towards it, trying to break its guard. Her words now all but crazed gibberish.

"Here, take this hammer. It's the only thing that will break through that type of armour," One woman said, handing off a newly summoned war hammer to a giant beside her. She was dressed in a half-armoured warm-red metal suit, with an over-the-top orange lotus skirt. Clearly, it was a case of cool warrior over aesthetics rather than actual practicality. The petals of the skirt looked about as frail as tissue paper.

"As you wish," The giant man replied, raising the hammer head high into the air.

He began to smack down on Don Quixote, relentlessly beating her with the weapon in an attempt to break through her armour. The girl's helmed head dropped back to the floor as she cried out in pain, visibly withering under the assault.

"Oh, Wings save us," Yi Sang muttered, his voice tinged with dread. The injured man's dark eyes widened in horror as he witnessed a series of runes appearing on the ground beneath him, forming at an increasingly rapid pace.

“Gregor, left pocket of the cloak… There is a healing potion. Get it down me.” Yi Sang ordered with a grunt. Benjamin couldn’t help feeling disgusted seeing that exposed jaw bone move as he spoke. “Faust is about to blow this whole… whole place to ashes.”

"f*ck," Gregor uttered, his gaze also drawn to the rapidly forming runes near his sandals. The scruffy elf quickly bent down and began to rummage through the young man's pockets as instructed. "Okay, on it."

Pulling out a stereotypically red bottle of liquid, Gregor awkwardly manoeuvred himself around Yi Sang and held it up for the bird mage to drink. Weak as he was, Yi Sang obliged, his trembling lips wrapping around the opening of the healing potion. He drank it down eagerly, as if Gregor were his mother bottle-feeding him.

Benjamin watched his friend being beaten on the floor, his long-nailed hands curling into fists, feeling a growing rage within him.

Dammit, why isn’t anyone helping her? If they don’t kill Don, she’s still going to get blown to bits by Faust’s blast whenever she lets that off! Wings, I don’t want to know what it feels like to be roasted alive!

The blond boy huffed with frustration. A boldness filled him. What would his death matter in the grand scheme of things if he ran out there? He was a pretty useless party member anyway! Don Quixote as a guide and protector of the others was far more important!

Benjamin reached for the Halberd on his back. The dog boy held the pole out before him, holding it with two hands, the same way he had done with Sethlans battleaxe. He was unfamiliar with this type of weapon or how to really use it. But the teenager was determined to make this work.

“Outis! Sorry to pain, but could you shoot that guy beating down on Don? I’m going to try and help her!” Benjamin asked.

“Are you nuts?” Outis questioned, even the stoic commander in the face of violence. “You’ll be walking into your death, Sinclair, if you do that.”

“Yeah, I know. But you guys carry on this journey without me if that happens. You need Don far more than me!” Benjamin explained, his voice serious.

Outis smirked at the boy’s rare act of bravery. She spun around the pistol in her hand, stepping out of the shadow of the blighted bush, and aimed it directly towards the sturdy head of the giant.

“Good luck then!” Outis encouraged with a mocking grin back at him. Before she looked back towards the hammering giant and fired off a round, with a thundering crack.

Like a race’s trumpet, Benjamin took his as his signal to go. The dog boy ran towards the man, feeling the tender weakness of his twisted ankle as he went. The bullet had done no damage physically to him at Outis’ pathetically low level, but it had taken the giant man by surprise. Stupefying him briefly, as though someone had fired a blunt slug shot into his face with a child’s slingshot.

He saw Rocinante rolling around the ground in pain near his master, unfortunately Benjamin knew there was nothing he could do for him. That animal was far too big, and far too heavy for him to even attempt to shift.

Outis fired off another shot at the woman next to the giant, making the lady stumble back in surprise and clasping at her eye like sand had been dropped in it, keeping the path clear for the boy’s approach.

Benjamin was growing nervous as he drew closer to them. The halberd in his hand felt weighty. How was he going to use this exactly? The only idea that came to mind was to wing it wildly, much like Heathcliff's bat, and hope that the auto-assist feature Yi Sang mentioned would come to his aid.

With a cry of courage, Benjamin swung the bladed end of his axe head towards the giant’s head. Suddenly something kicked in, and he felt vastly more power behind the strike compared to what his actual flimsy strength could provide. There was a force course correction too, as though someone was helpfully redirecting his attack to a better angle, making him smack the giant square in the face.

It did barely any damage at the boy’s current level. The giant’s skin may as well have been sturdy kevlar. But the shock of the onslaught sent the man stumbling off balance, making him fall backwards onto the floor.

Then, with just a single look at the still-standing women beside the giant, Benjamin found his own limbs puppeted and propelled by an unseen force. Within a blink of an eye, he was staring down the pole of his weapon, the pointed tip end of his Halberd end punched through the vulnerable eye of the woman.

“Haaahh.” Benjamin cried with surprise, instinctually pulling the weapon back out of the queezy, bloody hole he had just made. The women staggered back in horror as the dog boy raised a hand in apology. “Sorry!” How’s that even possible at my level?!

He nervously lowered his halberd, not wanting to accidentally swing out at someone random again. No wonder having auto-assist on is maybe not the best idea in high-pressure environments. One wrong stray thought, and you could be compelled into stabbing something you didn’t intend to.

Benjamin looked to the fallen knight beside him and quickly squatted down beside her.

"Don, it's me. You need to get up!" Benjamin urged, shaking Don Quixote's now dented and wobbly shoulder pad. "Faust is about to nuke this whole place!"

“Squire?” Don Quixote grunted, weakly raising her head.

Benjamin speared a nervous glance back at the crazed witch, seeing the runes she cast growing ever outwards, no longer coherent runes but maddened spirals on the floor. It felt like it could go off at any second. “Can you move? I hope they didn’t beat you too bad.”

"Nah, everything's in order. Gotta love me some draken-steel armour," Don Quixote huffed beneath her visor as she slowly began to push herself up from the ground.

A deafening bang shattered past Benjamin's sensitive ears, causing the teenager to wince in pain and instinctively throw a hand to his feather-soft ears. He peered over his shoulder, finding the rising rock-hard giant squeezing his eyes shut and his face contorted like he’d eaten a lemon.

“You two, come on! Get a move on!” Outis yelled, running out to the pair as she fired off another round at one of the player killers inbound to them.

“Agh!” Don Quixote squeaked in pain when she tried to move walk. The armoured knight reached down to her right leg, finding the sharp steel had caved in and cut into her leg. A thick trail of crimson blood poured down like a stream as gravity took hold.

“Crap! I don’t think we can exactly move her, Outis!” Benjamin cried back to the militant, coming to a stop at their side.

“Might also have a case of concussion thinking about it.” Don Quixote wheezed out, weakly smacking the side of her metal helmet with her gauntlet.

“Seriously? You can get that as well in here?!” Outis growled with annoyance, firing off another shot for good luck at the grunting giant. She really wanted to keep him down it seemed.

“Holy crap! What the hell kind of spell is that witch casting!” The one-eyed woman yelled, a padded gloved hand her mangled eye socket. She abandoned attacking the vulnerable level 1s standing there and fled back towards the safety of the bridge in her elegant gown. “Helena! You’ve gotta shield us from this!”

“Yeah! I’m working on it, Cameron!” The academic girl snapped back, her eyes glued to her book as she returned to frantically waving her hand around like a conductor of an orchestrator, commanding her iridescent purple nymph to dance around its summoner. Faint, smaller runes began to crawl across the air like ants and form a dome-like structure. “This f*cking noob is going down in history books as one of the most insane, I swear! Who the heck remembers all the damn rune letters before they even reach level 2?!!”

“This maniac apparently!” The one-eyed woman yelled back experated. She looked to the meditating cleric who was still standing there swaying. “Otto! Get your ass into that shield! You aren’t going to trace sh*t if you get incinerated!”

“Outis, get my lance.” Don Quixote suddenly panted out, gesturing wilding with her hand towards somewhere on the ground she thought it was.

Outis hurriedly grabbed the jousting lance nearby and returned it to the knight.

With a pained huff, Don spun around like an acclaimed athlete a threw her lance, hurling it across the area like a mighty javelin and driving straight into the chest of the nerdy summoner.

In an instant, the Nymth let out a cry of pain before disappearing in a puff of glistening purple particles. The staggering summoner looked back at the knight in horror, her studious eyes wide behind her rose-tinted spectacles. Only to slowly slump to the floor dead and lifeless a moment later.

“Huh. Nice shot.” Benjamin observed.

“Can you do that in real life?” The mechanical copper gunslinger asked the knight.

“Nah.. don’t have the strength really. Unless in the armour maybe..?” Don Quixote expressed, sounding very wobbly now.

“Okay, we really should get you moving,” Benjamin noted, glancing back over to the party.

They rushed back - well, hobbled as best as they could in Don Quixote's injured state - to Yi Sang’s side. The partially healed, but still beaten down, Thaumaturge appeared to be casting his own bubble shield spell behind Faust, which the rest of the company was hurriedly darting into.

As Benjamin's heel crossed the wobbly boundary of reality, flame and light erupted, engulfing the world behind him in a cataclysmic explosion. A nuclear bomb lay as well have gone off as Yi Sang’s shield shuddered at the shockwave it released. Benjamin could see the grimace of concentration and pain on Yi Sang’s features.

Faust cackled faintly, coughing in pain as she stagged forward in exhaustion. A weak grip on her platinum white cane, its charms swaying. “Faust is.. Faust is the.. Faust knows al..”

Benjamin watched as the flopping woman beside him abruptly disintegrated into a skeleton and smashed into the floor as a pile of dust and bones.

The terrified blond boy yelped, jolting with shock at the morbid sight. He really had not been expecting something so dramatic to happen!

Yi Sang sighed at the sight, weakly shaking his head and sending his long dark hair swaying. “And that is why we cast several small spells in a flurry rather than one massive magnum opus.”

His index finger curled around his cane turned to the bone while the rest remained flesh-covered.

“How do you fuel long-term raids, actually, Yi Sang?” Benjamin asked, the explosion of flame still dancing around the protective shell of the shield around them. “Did..” He looked at the pile of bones. “..this happens to you quite often?”

“Not particularly, I knew my limits and so my party adjusted accordingly for my predicament.” Yi Sang stated. “Higher level druids can summon nature at will whenever they want. They can easily replenish what they have reaped to heal someone like me. There are some limits to this practice, I will admit. But those are semantics that wouldn’t be relevant to our dive here.”

“So you just got your whole party to bend the knee, just so you could go ‘pew pew’ with a few spells? Ain’t that a bit unfair to the rest of them?” Ishmeal asked.

“Well, as Faust has just demonstrated, Thaumaturge and Witch are one of the most overpowered classes within the game. We are good to have around for burst damage should a boss enter enrage.” Yi Sang shook his head. “No, some of you may not understand that. Think of the boss having a countdown timer before it kills the whole party. That is what enrage is.”

“Thank you for the explanation,” Meursault said, entirely straight-faced like he was an out-of-touch granny.

“Wait, so did you just nuked yourself to kill the boss?” Yuri asked, the sickly zombie pointing a finger at the wizard.

“Correct.” The hooded mage nodded. “We had an agreement within our party that they would always keep a share of the loot back for me if I did that. I wouldn’t have rights otherwise to roll on it due to having died before the raid boss was killed. Well, and I suppose the other threat I gave was that I would demote them..”

“Abuse of power, I like to see that in a man~” Rodya purred comically. Her

“I don’t think that’s something I can-” Gregor coughed and pulled on his collar. “I can really do, you know, Rodya?”

“Hey, Hey, babe! It was just a joke! Don’t worry about it, huh?” Rodya reassured with a hand wave.

When the roaring fires diminished, they left a smouldering clearing bereft of its once majestic birch trees. The area now felt hollow and war-torn. Not even that mystical white grass that had lined the pathway remained, as scorched earth was left in its place.

However, be it because it was an indestructible piece of level geometry, or the protective incantations of the clerical figure who shielded three of his companions from the blast, the wooden bridge spanning the river endured unscathed.

Outside of that protective bubble, nothing was left besides the bones of the deceased. Benjamin frowned with sadness at the sight of the large stallion’s corpse that lay there. Grey smoke still wafting from its remains.

Sorry, Rocinante. Benjamin thought somberly. His golden eyes darted over to the woozy knight clasping at her bleeding leg in pain. She had yet to notice her head steed. I hope she’s going to be okay after this with him gone. She seemed to really love that pony…

“Hey, that Cleric is dropping their shield.” Ryoshu alerted the group.

“sh*t. I don’t think these two are in any state to fight them.” Gregor uttered, looking between Yi Sang and Don Quixote, then to the solitary bones of Faust on the ground. “And I doubt Faust is going to be able to do much like that.”

“Director, can anyone else cast magic in this party?” Outis asked the ebony cloaked mage at the centre of their party.

Yi Sang shook his head as he observed the approaching vengeful survivors, their weapons drawn and heading towards their low-level, vulnerable party. The long-haired wizard's expression turned grim, recognising the imminent danger they faced.

“No. None of you can, unless we make a retreat to somewhere still bountiful in nature for Gregor. I could maybe annihilate myself if I must. But if that doesn’t kill all three of them, the rest of you will be surely doomed.” Yi Sang explained. “They will destroy you with a simple tap of their fingers.”

Well that certainly puts my suicidal charge into perspective now. Benjamin gulped nervously. He had gotten rather lucky there.

“So what option are we going for, huh?” Gregor asked nervously, reaching for his cane, blooming with green leaves like a spring tree branch, on his back. He bounced up and down with tension, as though waiting for a cue to run and act. “Run somewhere I can cast or blow yourself to kingdom come, Yi Sang?”

“Um..” Yi Sang seemed to hesitate, slouched over as pressed his weight onto his scarf. He chewed his lip in thought, staring at Don Quixote's blooded leg in concern.

With growing panic for his mentor’s lack of decision, Benjamin looked back at the approaching pair. He observed the frustration etched on their faces, the sense of indignation at being bested by those they considered inferior. He imintaimetly understood their anger, their self-loathing born for such a defeat, and knew even if they tried to talk them down, they’d probably gut them simply for having the audacity to try and reason with them.

Except..

They suddenly all popped out of existence. Including the cleric on the bridge.

In the corner of Benjamin’s vision, a series of messages appeared.

DiveGroup4533077_Otto - Banned for Hacking

DiveGroup4533077_ Cameron - Banned for Hacking

DiveGroup4533077_ Ciri - Banned for Hacking

Benjamin's eyes widened with astonishment. Wait, all of them were hacking this entire time?

Sure, whatever that cleric had been doing seemed rather suspicious, but the entire party? It half made Benjamin wonder if they had been using anything netherious to assist them in combat this whole time. It didn’t seem like it, yet the anxious paranoia of such a thing made him feel a bit breathless. We were definitely close to death if that were the case. Its a miracle we are all even still alive.

It took a monument for the labrador boy to process he was safe again and heave out a sigh of relief, lowering the halberd he hadn’t even clocked he’d been holding in his hands this whole time. His tight grip on the pole loosening.

Yi Sang summoned a straw bag from his menu and caught it with his semi-deformed hand. He went over to the pile of Faust’s bones and collected them from the ground, stuffing the jumbled mess of clanking parts into the bag. Don Quixote, likewise, stumbled and limped off out of the collapsing transparent shield wall and over to Rocinate’s charred, carbonised skeletal remains.

“Hey, Yi Sang. Is there a way to respawn people in this game?” Ryoshu asked, reaching down to the floor and picking up a twing, stress chewing on it as she stared at the bag of Faust’s remains. “Games have that type of crap, right? She’s not permanently dead, is she?”

Yi Sang looked at the bag in his hand and sighed.

“Let me guess. You’re going to turn her into a puppet voodoo doll or something with all those bones, wizard boy?” Outis mocked in her synthesised voice.

“Not exactly my class’ role.” Yi Sang grumbled. He looked over across the now clear bridge. “We should probably go looking for the nearest shire of resurrection for her.”

The nearest shrine, as it turned out, was within the small town of La Mancha.

Breaking out past the thick forests and into a mountainous, arid, and dry mesa area, the Mediterranean-styled town was made up of warm clay-red roofs and rustic yellow walls well worn with age.

Around the majestic holy altar, to a god Benjamin had no clue about, vast green olive trees cast relieving cool shadows over the area.

Yi Sang handed over the bag of Faust’s remains to the male priest. The tall knight Don Quixote likewise dumped the heavy potato sack of Rocinante into the altar beside him. The avian wizard then casually tossed a coin to the priest from the pocket of his feathery cloakand returned to the party’s side a ways away from the high altar.

The bird man slumped and slid down against a nearby wall, exhausted. Even if his wings had regenerated thanks to Gregor’s assistance, they still seemed fraying and worse for wear.

The rest of the worn out company members were likewise lined up and collapsed against the wall and along the pathway leading to the shrine.

Beside Benjamin, Rodya sat with her legs pulled close to her chest, rubbing her thighs. Her expression was fed up and pained.

Sitting there, Benjamin could feel the weight of endurance pressing down on him. Sweat dripped from his brow, and his head swam with dizzying lightheadedness. He felt as though he wanted to collapse, to succumb to the oppressive heat and sink into unconsciousness on the scorching stone floor.

The pain irradiating from the teenager’s feet certainly didn’t help either. It felt like the bottom section of his feet's skin had dissolved down to muscle, shaved off with brutal swipes of sharp sandpaper. There were definitely throbbing blisters lining his soles and a wet, gooy sensation that oozed from where they had burst.

The dog boy gazed vacantly at his worn leather boots as if his mind were a vast emptiness devoid of any cognitive activity.

Should he peel off these shoes? He was fearful to see what awful state his feet were in underneath his shoes and socks. To see it and recognise the reality of their situation made him worry it would hurt more than it already did. By avoiding the sight of their potentially dire condition, he could maintain the illusion that everything was normal.

In the periphery of his downward vision, Benjamin sensed a brilliant flash of light emanating from the divine stone altar. He looked up and over to the shrine. A fully reformed Faust, in her restored white witch’s robe and pointy hat, stumbled forwards, only to be thankfully caught by the kindly priest NPC at hand.

“Welcome back, my brave steed.” Don Quixote stated proudly, the knight walking forward and gently pulling her reanimated horse’s head close to her own. She stroked behind the pony’s floppy, furry ears. “I hope those flames didn’t hurt you too much-”

Benjamin couldn’t hear what else she said to her old companion as Don Quixote buried her face in the animals. He could only tell that her lips were moving as she lovingly ran her hand along the horse's long and wiry mane.

“How are you feeling, Faust?” Meursault inquired, the sturdy man rising from the ground to meet the dazed witch. Her already blank, glacial-blue eyes were more expansive and confused than usual.

“Faust is adequate now.” The witch stated, still held by the holy man. “Faust did not appreciate the limbo it was placed in. Faust’s consciousness was floating behind the company the whole journey to this place. To now stand on two legs is not a familiar feeling.”

“So that is what happens when we die in this place, then?” Meursault observed, his rigid brow pulling together thought.

Standing there, the proud man exuded an aura of vitality that left Benjamin feeling envious. Somehow, amidst the destroyed group, he appeared untouched by the rigours of the long hike. The sweatless Frenchman was akin to an untouched god, an ideal Benjamin couldn't even hope to approach.

“Every company member’s words reached Faust’s ears while in that state.” Faust eerily cracked her head towards the resting Outis. Her expression took on an irked impression. “Faust does not wish to become a ‘voodoo puppet’. Especially if Outis’ plans to misuse Faust’s flesh and blood for unauthorised purposes out of the company’s modus operandi. What would a Faust puppet even control? Faust? Faust would be dead-”

“My, how unlike you to get your knickers in a twist.” Outis remarked, a devious grin on her face. The clockwork woman shot a proud finger towards the irked witch, the small gears in her hand's gazebos spinning. “I like to see that fire in you, girl. Keep it up.”

“That is beside the point, Outis!” Faust growled as though she were a fed-up preschool teacher who couldn’t break character—still hanging in the priest's arms.

“Hey, are you.. okay, Faust? Like.. in the head, I mean.” Gregor asked, seeming awkward about the phrasing of the question to the young women. “You kind of went pretty nuts back there with that spell you cast.”

“Faust was simply testing the limits of the arcane. Such a system appears to be quite powerful in this game.” Faust reported, closing her eyes and returning back to a robotic state.

“Okaaay.” Gregor said, clearly not exactly believing her answer. “Then what was all that cackling about then?”

“Faust was enjoying itself.” Faust stated with a small smile peeling across her lips. “Likewise, it appears laughter improved Faust’s accuracy in spellcasting by 46.5%. It would be inefficient not to laugh, Gregor”

“Wings, she really has gone mad.” Yi Sang muttered, awkwardly looking away in concern.

“Well, uh- good on you, kiddo!” Gregor coughed into his hand, wanting to change the subject from whatever the hell was lurking beneath the surface of Faust. The scruffy elf looked towards Outis and the Director. “So, are we going to keep hiking through the hills tonight, or do we plan to stop somewhere? Not sure I really have the stamina myself to keep going, and I’m sure the others would agree with me there as well. I dread to think what Sinclair is feeling over there.”

“Oh, I definitely feel like death warmed over. Warmed a bit too much, frankly.” Benjamin added on, brushing aside his fringe and wiping at his sweaty and dripping, boiling brow with the back of his hand. He glanced over to his mentor. “Honestly, maybe its a good idea to call it a night here. I know it's not the best timewise. I mean, the sun hasn’t even set yet, and we still have daylight, but-

"No, I believe calling it here is a wise idea. Don't fret," Yi Sang chimed in, concurring. "We likely wouldn't survive another ambush in our current condition. If Outis harbours any reservations, I'd argue that it is better we waste 7 hours here slumbering, than having to trek back from the starting city again after an hour’s wait in limbo due to our untimely deaths.”

“I have no issue with any of that, Director.” Outis concluded. “A well-rested, functioning group is always better than a whining one, in my book.”

Underneath his cloak, Yi Sang smiled warmly at his second-in-command. “Very well.” He peered over at the silver knight, reapproaching the group with her mighty stead in toe. “Don, is there anywhere close by that would act as a suitable rest stop? I am not too familiar with Cascada’s Hinterlands.”

“Oh? Where were you before then?” Don Quixote asked, her orange eyes averting from him with evident discomfort. She seemed uneasy, as if she were reluctant to delve into the subject.

Beneath the shadows of his feathery cloak, Yi Sang's brows furrowed as he observed her, a mixture of intrigue and concern flickering across his features. "I believe that's beside the point, Don Quixote. Are you feeling alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Don Quixote replied weakly, her gaze drifting away to the dry roots of the olive trees sprouting from their brick pots below. She sighed and kicked her pointed-tipped boot against the ground, scraping the soft, cream-yellow stone. "There's an inn on the outskirts of town where we could stay. I... used to know the innkeeper very well. I'm sure he'll be happy to let us stay. Hopefully, he won’t throw a quest at us.”

The dented knight started down the path leading out of the shrine, Rocinante trotting faithfully at her heels. With a low dip of her head, her hair cascaded forward, veiling her face from view.

“Maybe, for old time's sake, I wouldn’t mind that though.”

Just as Don Quixote had described, the inn was located on a small hill near the outskirts of town.

Next to a vast and gushing waterfall poring down the mountain-side into the river that flowed through the rest of the dry town. A large, old-fashioned wooden windmill stood spinning atop the hill, an old converted farmstead that had become the inn through time, according to a not-so-enthusiastic Don Quioxite.

It was clearly a well-maintained and loved piece of machinery. The spinning blades’ had clearly been painted recently in a warm dark-crimson colour, matching the roof tiles of its surrounding buildings.

When they reached the top of the hill, Benjamin, panting for breath, followed them through a small archway into a courtyard. The teenager couldn’t help but be in awe at how quaint and beautiful a recreation of a real-world setting could be.

The courtyard was concealed beneath the soothing shade of expansive green trees, their branches providing a canopy of relief from the sun's rays. Vibrant, blooming roses of all colours climbed the yellow walls they had been attached to. The ground was paved with hundreds of colourful tiles, each one uniquely painted. Benjamin might have assumed they were handmade, given their small imperfections, if he hadn't known better about the artificial nature of this place.

There were several blazing firepits and lounging areas laid outside. All within the forgiving shade of shadows the trees provided. There was also a small, iron-railed stairwell that led up to a balcony that ran the full length of the courtyard area above them. The keen-eyed teenager could see several wooden doors up there. The inn’s rooms if he had presume.

The shade here feels incredible~ Benjamin thought, feeling the burden lift from his overheated back as he strolled through the courtyard with the company. His shoulders relaxed in relief, savouring the cool and refreshing breeze that swept through the area, brushing against his flushed and damp, striped cheeks. Though dry, lacking the moisture of humidity, it was a welcome sensation.

There was a dark open entryway into one of the buildings. Bustling noises of chairs shifting and squeaking, and cheerful conversation wafted out of there.

The company headed through the entrance way. For all her usual giddiness for taking the lead whenever they went somewhere, running off like an excited dog off its lead, Don Quixote was notably trailing behind the group. The clunky knight trying to hide among her peers; even if the towering armour made her stand out like a sore-thumb, up against giant’s of Meurault’s statue. A look of uncomfortable dread crossed her mosey face, as though she desperately wanted to run away from this place, but was held in place by the invisible hand of duty to stay.

A very sweaty Gregor flagged down a young women behind the counter of the bar with a wave. She possessed no player tag, unlike many of the others drinking within the inn right now, clearly marking her as an NPC.

However, what impressed Benjamin was that this girl didn’t generate a sense of the uncanny valley. She was pretty realistic, to the point Benjamin could easily mistake her as a real person. Frankly, in the back of his mind, the boy was astounded this wasn’t breaking the AI Ethics Agreement in the eyes of the Head.

Prehps laws like that don’t apply when they are locked away in a virtual world like this. Benjmain wondered, observing the girl - looking no different to a tired collage student - pulling down the the bar tab and pouring a glass of fluffy topped, rich and dark ale for the demon-tailed, scarlet-skinned man waiting on his drink chatting with her.

She handed the ale tankard off to the devilish man and turned to look over at Gregor, beckoning him over with a wave.

“Welcome to Cabeza de Gigante. Is there something I can get for you, Elf?” The bar-maid asked with a charismatic grin.

“Uh, yeah. Do you have any rooms for me and my companions here to crash out in?” Gregor asked, briefly glancing over his shoulder at Yi Sang. “You’ve got the money to cover this right?”

Yi Sang gave him a deadpan look. “I have 24 million gold on this account. We will be fine, Gregor.”

“Alright, rich boy!” Gregor remarked in surprise. Before turning his attention back to the short-haired bar maid. “Well, you heard the wizard! He can cover any cost. It’ll probably rooms for about 13 people.”

“Oh, we can definitely do that.” The bar-maid nodded amicably.. “Uh.. just one second.”

She turned, abnnonding her post at the bar as she looked towards a backroom behind her. “Hey brother?! You cleared out those rooms didn’t you?”

There was a patter of footsteps against creaking wooden floorboards as a young man, drying down a tankard with a cloth, poked his head out from the doorway. Benjamin preumsed he was about his own age, however, unlike him was glessed with the good graces of looking more adult for his age. There was no chubby baby fat marring that face of his.

“Ahh.” The young man hissed with an awkward grimace, seeing the large band of adventurers on the other side of the bar. “Sorry, Maria. I hadn’t exactly had a chance to clean those rooms yet. I was leaving that job on the back burner for later, before the evening rush comes in. I can get on it now if you want. But these people may be waiting a little while!”

“Eh, they can go sit outside while you do that.” The barmaid Maria waved off his concerns. She went to face the group again. “You lot sure look like you could do with a drink.”

"Oh, Wings, yes, please! Give me that sweet, sweet alcohol," An exhausted Rodya exclaimed. "Honestly, I'd even settle for one of those rooms, even if it were a dump right now. A bed is a bed."

“No, I couldn’t give you one of those rooms in good conscience my lady. They are in such an awful state!” The young man chuckled with insistence. “Ever since that route to Phaeacia opened up, your fellow adventures have been holding rather massive alcohol-filled parties as they’ve been heading down the road to it. Not that I think Maria or Dad have a problem with it, we’re making great money off it. However, I do hope you won’t be planning to do the same!” He rubbed at his neck, smiling awkwardly. “Please, my poor back is breaking cleaning up after your messes!”

“I will slap anyone who causes a disturbance on this property, don’t you worry.” Outis reassured ominously. She fixed the young man with a steady gaze, a silent promise in her eyes.

The young man laughed back, looking quite relived at that. “Thank you, miss. Much appreciated.”

“Well, I’m sure Dad and his friends will be happy to hear about all your hard work too whenever they get back.” Maria taunted her brother.

Her brother turned to head back through to the backroom, calling through the doorway. “They better give me a pay raise, more like! This isn’t going to pay for 5 years of Cascada’s Arcane Acdeamy!”

Maria scoffed in amusem*nt, cupping a hand to her mouth as she called. “You just want to animate brooms to do your work for you!”

“Yes! That is the idea!!” Her brother yelled back.

“Hey, sorry miss.” Don Quoxite spoke up.

The knight crept shyly forwards through the group, taking off her helmet. The girl nervously cupped her metallic gauntlets around the helm like it was her comfort teddy bear.

“Do you by any chance know a Señor Augstin? Is he still holding up well after all these years?” Don Quoxite asked. “I hope someone’s sorted his back-pains for him now.”

“Señor Augstin? Oh yeah, he has long since retired from running this place! We took over management of the inn from him years ago!” Maria responded, leaning forwards with her elbow’s resting against the bar. Her ale-splashed sleeves, stained with brown splotches, rolled up. “Colour me impressed, girl! I’m amazed your old enough to know about him!”

“Oh..” Don Quoxite didn’t even parse her words, looking deeply saddened by the news.

Benjamin approached the downtrodden girl, whicing at how pained his feet screamed as he took those arduous steps after resting for moment, allowing them to solidify into something even more painful. He reached out to touch his friend's caved-in and dented shoulder pad as he fixed his gaze on the mundane NPC barmaid.

Did the developers just update the tavern to no longer feature the man since Don last played, or does this game automatically update things over time? The dog-boy pondered, his lips pursed in thought. If the latter is true, I really should give some credit to J-Corp for making something so advanced. Then again, they are a Wing. Why not flex your technical prowess in your flagship product?

“Do you have anything sweet to drink, Maria? I’m sure Don here is rather exhausted from our trek in all that armour of hers.” Benjamin asked, speaking for his closed-down friend. The worst case scenario in his mind was this NPC to accidentally blurting something out that would upset Don Quoxite any further.

“Ooo, not exactly the season yet for orange or apple juice I am afraid.” Maria said, looking behind the counter for something. “We can do some warm honey and lemon if you’d like? I can brew some of that out the back. Not the best thing in this weather, I know. But I never tastes that great when just lukewarm.”

“That works fine, thanks. Can you make a second one for me as well?” Benjamin asked.

Maria breamed brightly back at him. “Sure, I’ll start a tab for you guys.”

“What ales do you have, by the way?” Gregor chimed in, stepping forwards closer to the bar curiously.

As the company began to gather around the bar, trying to decide what each of them would drink. Don Quoxite looked over to Benjamin with faint smile on her strained and downtrodden face. “Thank you, Sinclair.”

"It's no trouble at all, Don," Benjamin replied, his expression tinged with concern as he narrowed his eyes. "But are you sure everything's alright? You don't seem particularly thrilled to be here. Will you be comfortable spending the night?"

“No one’s going to jump out and attack us, don’t worry. It’s just.. This place brings back childhood memories for me. I am sad to see its changed so much.” The mousy girl stated, sadly peering up and around the bustling bar-area.

“Time does tend to ruin the things we love. You aren’t alone there.” Benjamin reassured, a profound feeling of empathy welling up within his chest for her. “I would know the feeling more than most.”

The company members went to settle themselves down around the open fire pit, drinks in hand.

Finally presented with the chance to unwind, Gregor, his brow glistening with perspiration, embraced the moment with gusto. Setting his drink aside on a nearby table, the wood elf shed his robe and brown shirt, revealing his bare chest. With a contented sigh, he sank onto the plush red velvet chaise, his bleary eyes fixed on the heavens above.

Across the crackling firepit, both Outis and Meursault shot the man glares of displeasure for his actions.

Gregor's awareness of their evident distaste eventually dawned on him, prompting him to glance over at the disapproving pair. "Hey, let's be real here," He remarked, peering at them with a raised eyebrow. "I highly doubt our little scene is going to ruffle any feathers. The only ones we'd be bothering are those youngsters behind the bar, and I'm pretty sure they've got bigger fish to fry right now. Besides, if I'd lingered in those suffocating clothes any longer, I might have keeled over from heatstroke."

“You know, what? I’m seconding him there.” Yuri joined in, the masked women taking off her own woolen shirt, a bit of an awkward gesture considering the tank surgically bolted to her back, leaving a pair of dirted bandages as a bra. She collapsed onto the opposite couch from him, letting out a content sigh of relief as the masked woman buried her face into the soft fabric.

As Rodya moved to mimic the action, untying the red-riding hood cape already wrapped around her sweaty waist and preparing to remove her blouse, Outis marched over to the woman and jabbed a stern copper finger at her chest.

"If one more person strips down, I'll have you know I'll parade you naked around the entire town for all to see," She threatened.

Rodya smiled smugly, holding onto the hem of her blouse. “Nice try, babe. But I’m sure all the men around here would love to see me like that!” She retorted with a cunning wink. Coyly, she stepped back from the robotic militant and continued the action regardless.

Outis grumbled in distress, facepalming as she watched the fae-women take off her clothes, giving a side-eye to the other players nearby very much staring at their weird group.

“Such threats wouldn’t work anyway.” Yi Sang remarked, resting his black staff against the staircase nearby their claimed area. He pulled down his hood, allowing his longer-than-usual hair to flow free. “You wouldn’t be able to strip them to the bare minium, even if you wanted to.”

Rodya crawled on top of Gregor, resting herself on the sleepy man’s chest. The wood elf met the Director’s gaze with a concerned expression. “Wait, so you can’t take your underwear off here?”

Yi Sang gestured towards the man’s lower half with his half-gloved hand. “Why don’t you try it yourself?” He challenged.

Gregor obliged with curiosity, attempting to lift the rim of his underwear up with his thumb. However, as he tried to do so, it became clear the band was affixed to his skin.

“Oh, this feels weird,” Gregor noted with discomfort, trying to prode and pull the skin around the area only to find the clothes superglued to him. “Look, I’m not going to knock J-Corp for doing this exactly. I get it. They’ve got a brand image to maintain and all. But.. ughhh, this just isn’t right. Not with everything else here feeling so real.”

"I must also mention-" Yi Sang interjected, removing his cloak and draping it over his arms with care, "-that at present, you lack any anatomical features in that region." He paused, acknowledging the discomfort of the topic. "It's not the most pleasant realisation, I understand, but I felt it necessary for you to be aware."

“Wait? Does the same apply to women too?” Yuri asked, looking down at the bandages covering here chest. She poked it with curiosity, “Definitely feels like there is something here.”

"Similar to my wings or Emil’s tail, it's merely a trick of the game, deceiving your senses," Yi Sang explained. “Other players, more intent on unravelling this mystery than myself, examined the in-game models through 3rd party tools. For female characters, there is nothing there but basic geometry there for the sake of aesthetics. You may as well have a two spherical-”

“I think that is enough of that line of questioning.” Meursault interrupted, raising up a hand in a gesture of finality. “We have already made fools enough of ourselves here without needing to ask these immature questions.”

“Very well.” Yi Sang said, dumping his folded up cloak onto the small couch, before the crow man settled himself down it.

Observing the dwindling availability of seats as the group occupied the area, the blond boy awkwardly made a beeline for the only remaining spot beside Yi Sang. With a palpable sense of desperation, he longed to find a place to sit, any place at all. Limping the entire way over there with a drink in hand.

Yi Sang looked up to see the pained young man coming over to him. “I see the journey took its toll on you.”

“Yeah, I am amazed my feet haven’t fallen off yet.” Benjamin replied, exhaling sharply as his stiffening calves joined in with their own chorus of discomfort. "Seriously, how did you and your old co-workers do this for fun?”

“The higher your level gets the more ‘stamina’ you gain. Because of this, you tend to feel the pains of hicking less. If we weren’t so pressed for time, I probably wouldn’t have forced a collection of level 1 players to make such a hike. What we have done is rather unnatural.” Yi Sang addmited, as the exhausted dog boy came to sit down beside him. The labrador-hybrid’s ears low with depression, dumping his warm and steaming bervage off to one side.

Tierdly, Benjamin shirked off his leather coat. He then looked down towards his high boots with an uncomfortable feeling of dread.

“Are your feet bothering you, Emil?” Yi Sang’s voice chimed in from beside him. “I know wolf and dog-type beast man can sometimes come with some strange anatomy, particularly around the feet.”

“Well, not that I have had a chance to look yet; but it's probably that or my whole underfoot is just one giant blister at this point.” Benjamin responded, attempting to undo the buckles of his left boot. He struggled hold anything due to the length of his claw-like nails, as though someone had glued long and extensive co*cktail sticks to his hands and expected him to perform a delicate task. “Wings, is there anyway to cut these damn things off? They’re really getting rather annoying!”

“Let me take those off for you.” Yi Sang offered, shifting forwards and putting a hand onto Benjamin’s wrist. His hand felt warm and ticklish to the touch even within this virtual world.

Benjamin looked up, mouth a tad agasp. It took him a moment to process the offer before he shyly looked away, smiling weakly. “If you want I suppose.”

The long-haired man leaned back and offered his lap for his friend. “Put them here, then.”

The love-struck adolescent complied to his request without question, putting both his feet onto his lap. With nimble fingers, Yi Sang managed to remove the straps off the boy’s first boot, and pull off the sweaty and awful smelling shoe. He then worked to carefully remove the brown woolen sock loaked around Benjamin’s foot. The dog-boy winced a bit as the wool’s minuscule and stabbing fibers rubbed against the blisters that definitely lurked beneath.

When the sock was finally removed, Benjamin was happy to find his feet were at least still human looking. Nothing strange or unnatural like his teacher had alluded too. But that was the only weight he really got off his shoulders. The state of them however…

Yi Sang held up the foot, and examined it with a critical eye like a diligent doctor. His feet were not bloody, but they certainly had bled going off the crusty scabs that had cut across his heel. Friction cuts from his tight boots if Benjamin had to guess. He could feel the same stabbing pain coming from his other boot’s heel too, no doubt having befallen the same fate.

The side of his big and pinkie toe likewise were raw and scarlet red, from where they had rubbed against the side of his boot. Although it was the upper sole of his foot bore the brunt of the damage, adorned with yellow blister nodules that had swollen across its entirety. Each blister, round and tender, elicited unbearable pain even from the gentlest touch of Yi Sang's finger.

Benjamin hissed through gritted, sharpened teeth at the touch. That let Yi Sang know all he needed to know about their horrid state.

The diligent man swiftly lowered his hand and accessed a menu tab in the air, his gaze narrowing as he tapped away, searching through his inventory for something hidden within. After a moment, he tapped on something on the screen and held out his other hand. A small glazed brown bottle manifested into it.

“What have you got there, Teacher?” Benjamin inquired, curiously leaning forwards.

“Ointment.” His mentor replied, batting away the menu shut with his hand and going to twist off the tiny lid. With a shake, he dumped out a dollop of some waxy cream and rubbed it between his heads, trying to get it warm. “I used to use this on my own feet when hiking at low levels to soothe them. I am just glad this game doesn’t feature expiry dates. This ointment must be fairy old now.”

“Huh.” Benjamin weakly acknowledged as warmed up, gentle hands began to cradle his pained foot. “Does this heal them then?”

"Yes, but it's more of a slow regeneration over time effect," Yi Sang clarified. "Until it actually fulfills its proper function, it will merely alleviate the pain."

As the slathered cream began to sink in where he held, with a gentle but firm pressure, Benjamin gasped in pain. It felt like the ointment was burning his skin.

His mentor softly rubbed the top of Benjamin’s foot in a soothing circle, attempting to make the young man comfortable. “My apologies. This will sting for the first while, Emil.”

Benjamin leaned back against the soft headrest of the chaise behind him, inhaling deeply. “As long as it actually does its job in the end.” He conceded.

The teenager had to admit, he was torn between the sensations of pain and enjoyment as those firm hands rubbed his aching foot. Feeling the frozen muscles in his feet processively become unlocked and loose, while also having to remind himself the stinging of his throbbing blisters was worth it. There was a delightful rosemary and lavender smell to the wax-like ointment that wafted to Benjmain’s nose from time to time.

He tried to focus on the good things he felt while his attentive teacher took his time rubbing it in. Occasionally sipping on that pleasantly sweet and sour drink he had to hand. Putting the drink back to one side, Benjamin leaned back with a sigh, he felt Ayin unbuckling his other shoe and remove both boot and soak, quickly returning to his ointment jar for another round of cream before returning to carefully rubbing the teeanger’s foot.

A guilty smile soon crept across his relaxed face at the sensenation. He really did love having Ayin massaging him.

The feeling appeared to be mutual too, going off the sly smile sneaking across Yi Sang’s lips as he watched at the blissful dog boy before him. Benjamin pretended not to see it, though. Not wanting to ruin the moment. Utterly touched that Yi Sang gained pleasure out of seeing him relaxed.

“I know you don’t get these pains so bad, but would you like me to do this for you as well, Yi Sang?” Benjamin offered, blissfully looking off into the dancing flames of the fire pit. “So long as you have enough ointment for it, of course.”

“I…I’ll think about it, Emil.” Yi Sang responded, sounding oddly strained about the idea.

Rejection, Benjamin could tell. However, whether it was because of his own issues with his physical being, or that Ayin was simply flustered at the idea of such a thing being done in reverse, that was harder to discern. Either way, Benjamin felt obliged to let it rest, but perhaps try for it another day. He deserved to be touched tenderly, just like this.

“Alright right, then.” Benjamin spoke up, reaching for another sip of his drink again. He met his teacher’s dark eyes as the dog-boy held his cup in his hands, giving Yi Sang an appreciating smile. “You are too kind for doing this, thank you.”

“I try my best.” The dark-haired man replied, his attention diverted back to his task, a hint of shyness in his demeanor. “I don’t wish to see you in pain, after all.”

“Okay, but is there anyway to change these boxers over in anyway?” Gregor’s asked, as Benjamin’s ears tuned back into the company’s conversation. “‘Cause, I swear, I’m starting to get some sensory issues from these things. Who the hell thought it would be a good idea to make underwear out of tweed, for crying out loud!”

“You can switch out the type of underwear you are wearing within your inventory, but you cannot fully remove them.” Yi Sang gave a side-eye into the middle distance. “And that is certainly not for want of trying.”

“I didn’t take you for being a perv!” Ishmeal remarked, pointing her ale tankard towards him.

“I have not personally tried to outwit the game’s modesty system. The same cannot be said for the game’s playerbase.” Yi Sang explained.

“Did they get anywhere?” Yuri asked.

Yi Sang shurgged his shoulders, still holding onto Benjamin’s foot. “The only exploit they found involved a chair, a rope and a cliff. Let’s just say when they do pull them down, it makes the person very uncomfortable - due to a lack of.. well, anything there. You are no better than a censored children’s doll right now as we’ve already established.”

The plague-ridden women raised up her sickly hands. “I regret asking now.”

Suddenly a loud bell began to chime from atop the windmill.

Maria came running out of the inn door holding her skirt, looking towards the courtyard’s entrance. A bright smile across her face.

“Welcome home, father!” She cried happily.

Benjamin followed the NPCs gaze towards the group of armoured adventurers pulling up on their horses. The one leading the pack happily urged his horse to speed up at the sight of this, racing across the courtyard, only to suddenly put on the breaks as he slid the girl’s side. The armoured knight hopped off the horse and flicked up his viser, before pulling the girl into a big bear hung.

“How’s the inn doing my little landlady?” He asked with a fatherly boldness.

“Well since the route the underground opened we’ve been swamped. Fully booked out every night for the past two weeks. Turns out we’re kind of the road too it.” Maria informed her father, pressing her face into his shoulder pad. “Guessing you gents are going to be heading there next?”

“Aye, that’s the plan, Maria.” The man responded.

“Thought we’d come back to check on our favouite daughter before we did though.” Another man in an over-the-top set of drapery fitting of a fine nobleman or a chavalric prince said, as he trotted up to their side on his horse. He had a dainty rapiar attached to his side.

“Yeah sure, Dulcinea. I know you just want to crash in a decent bed for once.” Maria laughed, looking up at the elegant, golden-haired man.

Don Quixote let out an audible gasp at the mention of that name, the girl freezing in place, her body tensing up as if she were an animal feigning death. Her complexion drained of colour rapidly, as though Yuri's fictional plague had infected her, wreaking havoc on her body within seconds.

However, as though she was being controlled like a puppet on strings, the girl rose. She wordlessly approached the happy family of NPCs.

Maria seemed to notice Don Quoxite’s approach, pulling away from her father as the other party members dismounted their horses around them.

“Is something the matter with your drinks, miss?” Maria asked, turning to face her.

The armoured man spun around to see who she was talking too. His wrinkled-rimmed eyes widened in surprise.

Without a word, the tall man strode forwards and embraced Don Quoxite, effortlessly lifting her from the ground and leaving her feet dangling.

“Sancho, it's been a long time.” Don Quoxite murmured sombrely. Not reacting to the man’s embrace, her gaze fixed on the rugged middle-aged figure before her, noting the bushy moustache that accentuated his cupid's bow.

The knightly man dropped her back down onto the ground and grinned at her. “You haven’t aged a day, have you?! What was that quest of your’s you disappeared off on? He teased affectionately, crossing his arms. "Or perhaps there's some secret elven ancestry you've been hiding from us?"

“Something like that.” Don Quixote replied vaguely, offering no further explanation.

Dulcinea cast his gaze down at the petite girl. His smile filled with warmth. “No, Sir Quixote has certainly aged.” The Musketeer noted. He peered down at the teenager’s chest with a look of surprise. “I never realised you were a fair Maiden, Sir Quixote! Gosh, you still have such cute little cheeks~!”

The large hat wearing man strode forwards and began to pull at her face. The usually hyperactive girl didn’t react to the poking or prodding. She simply stood there and took it. Her large eyes were blank and lifeless.

“You are still as touchy as always.” She remarked blankly. “I’ve always been a girl. I can’t believe you never realised till now, Dulcinea.”

"Wait, this is the Sir Quixote you lot were always telling me about?" Maria exclaimed, her eyes scanning the armoured girl up and down in astonishment. "I would never have imagined her as that headstrong, tanky knight you described." The bar-maid then lowered her head respectfully. "No offense, Sir Quixote."

“Oh trust me, she can be rowdy and overzealous, Maria!” Sancho exclaimed with a wide grin. “Though you seem a little under-weather, Sir Quixote? Did that Plaugeskin over there give you something?”

“Oi!” Yuri cried out at that. “I heard that!”

“No, no. Yuri didn’t give me anything.” Don Quixote insisted weakly. “Just a little exhausted from the travel over here. I had to defend these brave folks from some ruffians.”

“Ha! That certainly sounds like our Sir Quixote!” Dulcinea chuckled, clasping at the necklaces wrapped around his neck. He beckoned the rest of the party over to his side. “Come on everyone! Give her a warm welcome back!”

As the other adult party members began to surround and crowd the honurable knight, slapping her scratched-up shoulder-pads and scruffing up her hair, Don Quixote stood there like she was thunderstruck statue. Even in her massive suit of armour, she was minuscule in comparison to their heights. She really did look like a tomboyish child that had snuck off to join some mediaeval army.

Her complete shut down certainly concerned Benjamin.She clearly recognized these people, yet to him, they seemed like NPCs, devoid of any player tags above their heads.

But there is clearly a past here. What is it? Benjamin pondered. Why is it upsetting her so much, when these people don’t seem to even care? There is clearly no hate between them, is there?

Tapping his own leg to let Yi Sang know his intentions to move, Benjamin got up from his seat, barefooted and headed over to the newly arrived party. The teenager didn’t even mind the pain of walking right now, with Yi Sang’s soothing ointment doing its work. His concern for his swamped friend driving him regardless.

“Hey, I am one of Don Quixote’s current party members.” Benjamin greeted, raising a shy hand towards the group.

That Dulcinea fellow seemed to notice his presence and turned to look at him. His hand left Don Quixote’s goldi-locks hair as he scruffed it up. “A delight to meet you, Sir Doggie! I hope our friend here has been treating you well!”

“Uh, you can drop the ‘sir’ for me. And yes, she has been very kind in guiding our party to this point.” Benjamin responded, folding his hands together. “I know all of you are probably very excited to have her back again. But I really think she would like some quiet time now. I don’t think its much fun concentrating all day and getting mentally burnt out, only to be bombarded by a bunch of old aquaintances. I am sure you can understand that.”

“Maria? Have you not gotten a room for her yet?” Sancho asked his daughter.

“If my brother could hurry up with his jobs, she’d already be in one.” Maria sighed, putting an embarrassed hand to her forehead. “Sorry dad.”

Sancho tutted in dismay at this. “This place is as much as Sir Quixote’s home as it is ours. I wouldn’t have minded if you put them up in my quarters while we were gone. But if this is how it stands, I’d say they can have their rooms on the house tonight!” Sancho grinned at his shorter friend. “Would you like that, Sir Quixote?”

“Why don’t we hold a banquet for her too?” One of the leather-armour-clad fighters with a spear and shield on their back spoke up. He was removing his horse's saddle, looking over to their leader. “Come on, Sancho. We were already going to already going to have a meal to celebrate our return. Why not kick it up a notch, ay?”

Don Quixote shook her head with urgency. “No, that’s not necessary at all, Anselmo-”

“My dear friend, you don’t have to be involved at all with the preparations. Go rest if you want. We’re doing this for you, okay?” Sancho assured her, putting a hand on her shoulder. “You still like quail pie, don’t you?”

“I…” Don Quixote gazed up at the moustached man in shock, touching a fist to her chest. “I am surprised you even still remembered that.” She said oddly touched and.. heartbroken?

Benjamin could see her eyes were oddly water as her lips tremoured. She curled in on herself, looking away from them in shame. The most uncomfortably forced smile Benjamin had ever witnessed crossed wide across her rose-bud lips.

“Okay, a feast it is!” She exclaimed with painfully fake enthusiasm.