“If only it were that easy,” I said. “The only things I can make are instant ramen and frozen pizza.”
“Well, that’s a start. All you need is practice.”
“Oh yeah, before I forget,” I said, pouring another glass of water. “I found this funny-looking chest in the bedroom earlier. A real now-you-see-it, now-you-don’t type thing. It’s really colorful and full of items from someone named Ice Thompson. Some kind of designer, the game says,” I added, taking a sip. “Who is he, and is finding all the chests worth it?”
Cashius’s eyes pulsed with energy. “Yes, my boy,” he said, grabbing a napkin and wiping his mouth. “Ice Thompson’s quest will lead to some of the most marvelous items you’ve ever seen. The kind of things you normally wouldn’t be able to afford. One of one, too, I believe.”
“Oh really?”
“Yes, my boy. When I played this game, I located seventeen before I finally defeated the Nameless One. And even though I only found seventeen, they still helped me complete the mission. If you find all twenty chests, you get a special prize.”
“Sounds like they’re hard to find.”
“The first ones aren’t, but the later ones sure are. The game gives clues, but some of them are tough.”
“In the chest I found, I got some cool gear that lets me transform into a werecat—which I’m assuming is like a werewolf—and a new gem for Havoc Maker. A dropstrike gem, plus mana regeneration.”
“Those all sound excellent, my boy. Transforming into a werecat might come in handy, but getting mana regeneration is a real boon.” Cashius went into his own inventory and pulled out a cigar. “Now, when you use that staff of yours, your magic will regenerate, and you won’t need so many mana potions.”
He placed the cigar into his mouth, lit it, and took a strong pull.
The tendrils wrapped around his hand, and the room filled with the musty smell of the cigar. But before I could complain, the ventilation system cleared it away.
“Tomorrow, I think,” he continued. “We’re going to look for some mounts. It’ll help cover the distance between us and the Harshlands.”
I pushed my plate back, the rattle of the utensils echoing through the room. Then I rested my hand on my chin. “Like horses?” I asked, letting out a belch.
He waved it away in disgust. “Ha! Try something with a few more legs,” he said. “The only tricky part is luring one out. But once you find one, it’s locked to you for the rest of the game. Just whistle anytime while you’re outside a town, and it’ll show up. Really useful for covering ground. There’s a clearing not far from here. We’ll head there at dawn and nab two of them.”
“Like or ?”
“ is still around in the future?”
“Heck yeah. They just released a new one before I got dragged here. Real fun, too. Oh, by the way, should I be concerned about the Harshlands? The name kind of makes me worry.”
His face turned serious. “The Harshlands have some of the most dangerous terrain in all of Orbralis. Hot, nearly empty, and filled with impossible enemies waiting around every bend or dip. And the Flish’ar—the desert nomads—are no walk in the sand either. But to attain the first artifact of Orbralis, we must complete a task and destroy an ancient foe.”
“Sounds difficult,” I said. “Will it be like finding Walter’s killer, or harder?”
“Much harder. But let’s not worry about dragons we cannot see and focus on the snakes underneath.”
At the word “dragon,” an icy finger traced my spine. Cashius’s knuckles whitened around his cigar, but when I looked again, his face was carefully blank.
I proceeded to tell him about the RPG games of the present, and he continued to smoke his cigar, nodding along. When I was done, I noticed the bags under his eyes were more pronounced, and his voice had grown gravelly and tired.
As for me, my arms ached, and my legs felt like linguini. Nothing beats a good rest, and with the perk of feeling “fully rested” after sleeping in a bed, we would both feel great when we woke up tomorrow.
Even with that, I couldn’t shake the weight of it all. The monsters had taken their toll. And with so many more challenges ahead, I wasn’t sure I had it in me to see this mission through, no matter how many levels I gained.
To tell the truth, the whole thing felt pointless.
Then there was the added fact that the game’s difficulty had been cranked up. That made every battle and decision feel like life or death.
Therapy after my dad’s passing had taught me how to handle stress and depression for a while. But this?
This was a whole different monster, pun intended.
Cashius looked at me and took one last drag from his cigar, blowing out a cloud. “Get some rest. Tomorrow we’ll get some steeds,” he said, ashing his cigar in his plate and standing. “For now, I’m going to get some shut-eye.”
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I yawned. “Goodnight, old man.”
He smiled. “Oh, don’t forget to lock the door, or we might wake up dead from monsters breaking in.”
“How do you wake up dead?” I laughed.
He turned around with a haunting look in his eyes. “Exactly.”
As I cleared the table, turned off the ventilation system, and let the silence of the cabin settle over me, the only thing I could hear was the crackle of the spent fire coming from the hearth where Cashius had prepared dinner.
For once, I almost felt safe—no threat of creatures or Hawaiian-shirt-wearing men ready to knock the snot out of me.
No mission to far-off lands or uncovering some hidden jewel of information. Only peace and solitude after a long day.
Rubbing my full stomach, I made my way across the room to the front door. There, I grabbed a piece of wood and laid it across the metal slats, securing the place.
As I passed the couch, I ran my hands along the fabric, feeling its soft texture under my palm, then made a right and entered the bedroom to get undressed.
A shower would’ve been nice, but this weird game didn’t include one, so I’d wash up in the sink in the morning.
For the time being, I just put on my pajamas, crawled beneath the covers, and stared at the shadowy ceiling for a few minutes, trying to outlast the memory of the dragon’s gaze before finally closing my eyes.
* * *
Morning brought a dull pain radiating behind my left temple, accompanied by horrible memories of the dragon I had dreamed about the night before last.
This time, it was perched in an extravagant tent draped in silk, with veiled women fanning it while baby animals were fed to it like appetizers.
From its mouth, a long red trail of blood dripped onto the floor. And for some strange reason, every drop sounded as loud as a gunshot.
More than anything else, I recalled the deep, guttural purr it emitted when it recognized me, the glow of its eyes, the unsettling charm it exuded, and the pull that gripped the center of my chest, coiling around my ribcage and sinking its teeth into my heart. It invited me to sit beneath it, to worship it as those around it did, offering supplications in exchange for its presence.
I felt the warm sand under my feet and the cool air pressing around me, and I shivered.
Before I knew what I was doing, I was stepping toward the pale beast, ready to throw my life away just to sit at its feet and bask in its luxurious presence.
But something held me back. Maybe it was defiance, or maybe just plain common sense, but the closer I got, the more something felt wrong—as if one more step would make me lose who I was.
It was a strange feeling, but I knew it would happen if I moved any farther. My foot hung in the air. I shook my head and planted my feet firmly in the warm sand while the dragon’s gaze bored into my soul.
Its forked tongue slid out and licked across its eyes, and a second later, I was sitting up in bed.
The vision was still playing beneath my eyelids in horrifying detail. Just thinking about it made me dread going to sleep later.
Something wasn’t right about that dream of the pale dragon, and I made a mental note to talk to Cashius about it later.
Right now, though, I needed to drain the lizard. Maybe grab a drink of water too and hope the headache fades on its own.
Aside from the headache, my body felt recharged. I rubbed my arms, did a few squats, and even cracked my back in the sitting room, while from the other room, Cashius snored like a walrus.
Yes, sir, Lamont Jackson felt like a new man. All my doubts about finishing the mission were erased and replaced with vigor and confidence.
I washed up and got dressed: metal plate shirt, shredded furry pants, Street Sweeper Boots, and my new cloak.
Feeling like myself again, I exited the room and pushed the door to Cashius’s room open with force.
He jumped, startled, screaming as if he were fighting for his life.
My face shifted from anticipation to dread. “Don’t let them eat me! Don’t let them drink my blood!” he yelled, his voice cracking.
I rushed to his side. “Cashius, it’s alright. You’re safe, old man. No one’s here but us.” I patted his back awkwardly.
His wide eyes slowly returned to normal. He waved me off and sat on the edge of the bed, breathing rapidly. “That damned dragon and his mind-bending games,” he muttered, gripping his head.
I froze. “You too? He’s been in your dreams as well?”
“His name is Linuux. And he’s a real son of a bitch who holds one of the artifacts of Orbralis. He likes to play psychological games with his victims. I didn’t expect his pull to reach us this far away, but with the game’s difficulty increased, there’s no telling how far his influence can spread.”
“He has visited me twice so far, Cashius,” I said, shivering. “Why is he targeting us?”
“Because he knows what we’re after, and he doesn’t want to let go of that gem. But never mind that,” he visibly shivered. “First, we have to get to the Harshlands and see if the Flish’ar will help us liberate the sacred gem. Since the game isn’t the same this time around, there’s no telling if the way I defeated him before will even work. Our best bet is to hurry there and see how this unfolds.”
“Linuux, huh? Sounds like a real piece of work,” I said, standing. “Is there a way to stop him from getting into our dreams, at least?”
“Actually, there is. There’s a root we can brew into a tea, but it’s further along the way. Let’s just continue with the plan we discussed last night.”
“The steeds?”
“Yes,” he said.
I had never ridden a horse in my life, much less whatever he was talking about. Just standing there and imagining what that would entail made me hesitant.
I folded my arms, giving it more thought, but was jolted out of my daydream by one of Cashius’s smelly shoes flying past my head.
“Get on, and let me get ready in peace,” he said as I dodged it.
I turned to leave, but not before letting him know how I felt. “Crazy old man, you’re going to tire of throwing those stinky things at people,” I said, twitching my nose.
“Go on now, before I hit you with the other one.”
I stepped out the door, walked to the front of the cabin, and removed the brace.
This morning, the heavy wood felt lighter in my hands, probably because I had slept indoors. Behind me, I heard Cashius enter the bathroom, followed by a new round of complaints.
I shook my head, stepped over the threshold, and took a deep breath of fresh air, letting it fill my lungs.
A cool breeze blew as the sun peeked at me from behind the trees, welcoming me to a new world with new obstacles.
The wind pressing against my cloak told me the weather wasn’t going to be good today.
Nope, not at all.
In the sky to the west, deep clouds rolled in, churning up a storm. With them, my expectations of finding something to ride sank as low as those clouds hanging over the earth. No animals would be out if the weather turned bad.
I looked to my right, saw one of the chairs, and sat down. The old wood felt warm and inviting, greeting me with a comfort I hadn’t felt since arriving in Orbralis.
My stomach rumbled, but I ignored it and stayed where I was, enjoying a rare moment alone. I knew it wouldn’t last. Later, there would be monsters, travel, and all kinds of chaos.
Suddenly, a piece of wood lodged itself in my palm, making me pull my hand away from the arm of the chair and stand up. I used my teeth to grip it and yanked it out, thankful it wasn’t a bad one.
Oh well, maybe that’s how life worked. Just when you thought everything was going to be alright, something jumped up and surprised you.

