“I’ll make sure to have fun.”

Kade’s own words hung in the otherwise still air of his bedroom – a promise to his younger self. He wiped the tears out of his eyes and prepared to log in.

Once inside the game he took the moment to admire his avatar, Azrael.

Originally, he’d chosen the name as the symbolic end of Cain and his past. Now, he realised he’d chosen it for a far different reason. It was cool.

There was no greater reason, no higher thought. He’d chosen it because it was cool. Any other name would have sufficed to end his past, after all a discarded name was a name that was discarded, irrespective of what it was replaced with.

Azrael, just like his original username The_DarkLord96, was there because he liked it. Because they were cool. They summoned up the image of a dark figure, someone who did what they wanted because they wanted. And there would only be one reason to not follow anything meaningful – because it was fun.

He’d entered his advanced coding courses in school, not because he liked coding, but because he wanted to make a game that he could play a game, – a whole new world – where he could have fun.

Causing trouble, forming a guild and generally causing grief to players, devs and GMs alike was all for a sole reason – for fun. He’d just lost track of that. After his coma games had become a way to earn money. It was no longer fun, but work.

He’d joined Holy Empire for the money, sacrificing the friends he had fun with, for a job. Now, though? He had a fresh start. He wasn’t playing for money. He didn’t have to play at all if didn’t want to, but he did. He could play for himself. He could play for fun.

That single realisation brought a long dormant glow to Azrael’s eyes and he felt uplifted as metaphorical chains fell off him. With a steadily growing grin on his face. Azrael entered the waiting room and practically threw himself at Sera. He picked her in a hug and spun her in wide circles around him.

She shrieked in surprise and flailed about trying to escape his sudden attack.

“AZ! AAAZ! PUT ME DOWN! LET ME GO!”

Azrael found himself laughing as tears of joy streamed down his face. There was no reason to do this, absolutely none. Sera was code in a game. Not even in the game. He wouldn’t gain stats or skills from this and it was for exactly that reason that Azrael did it – because there was no point. It was absolutely ridiculous.

The surprise attack ended when Azrael found himself on the ground laughing so hard that he was afraid he’d suffocate from a lack of oxygen.

For the next minute the two of them lay on the ground trying to recover their breath. Azrael from his laughing and Sera from her panic.

“It’s good” Azrael said once he regained the ability to breath properly.

“What is?”

“Having fun, being free”

Azrael knew that she knew what he was thinking, but he answered her anyway. She remained silent and Azrael let the silence stretch on until he realised something. He turned to his virtual assistant and looked her in the eyes.

They were blue, framed by long blond hair. Sera looked back at him, her face deceptively innocent. Despite knowing the fact that she was only strings of code on one of the world’s greatest supercomputers.

He whispered two words, though they were wholly inadequate to express the extent of what he felt.

“Thank you.”

She had done more for him than anybody else had in the last few years. She’d stood by him since he’d first braved the game. She’d been there when he’d been in the forest, she’d been there when he’d fought the wolf and gained magic. She’d watched him mess up, fail and succeed. She’d helped him speak with the villagers and as a result with other players. And while he felt that he still couldn’t trust real people he at least felt comfortable speaking with the NPCs. She’d shown him hope where he’d thought there was none to find.

Azrael closed his eyes to stop more tears from flowing out. When he opened them again he was in the little wooden hut on Mors’ mountain. He knew she’d heard him, because even now he could feel her watching over him.

He rose from the rough bed and exited the outhouse.

Mors saw him when he approached and perhaps he noticed a change. It might have been a straightening in the posture, a sureness in his gait, or the glimmer in his eyes, but Mors asked him the same question he had when he’d first arrived.

“Who are you?”

Azrael answered without hesitation and a smile on his lips.

“I am someone who wants to have fun.”

***

Alena’s dagger flashed through the air, stopping just short of her opponent’s face. The grown man stumbled backwards, his own wooden practice daggers dropping out of his hands as scrambled backwards. The rest of the onlookers in the clearing watched silently.

She frowned in disapproval, as the man retreated in panic. He was worse than terrible, but he would learn. Her free hand flickered into a single signal.

‘Up’

The man scrambled to obey. Around her the other seven of her trainees straightened at the finger sign.

It had taken her a long time to figure out how to teach them finger signs, but in the end she’d found a way. It had involved learning how to read and write and a fair few bruise – on her trainees’ part. Now though all of them had basic literacy skills and could understand one-word hand signals.

One of the trainees, a young boy, hurried in and picked up the two dropped daggers, before he returned to his position. Nobody else dared move a muscle. All of them were new villagers, who’d settled in the village since her Lord and Master had left. The man she’d just defeated was the newest recruit yet.

Still, he obeyed her commands. In fact, all of them obeyed her without question, despite having been in the group less than a month. She’d trained that into them. They all knew that if one of them displease her, then all of them would suffer for it. It meant that they all kept each other in check. Despite that none of them looked at her with fear, instead their gazes were filled with respect.

Each one here was here because they wanted to be. Their reasons were varied. Some wanted to learn to protect themselves, one wanted revenge, another was here because he was fascinated by her skills. Whatever the reason was she accepted them. Like pieces on a chess board, so long as they did what they told she didn’t care.

With the disappearance of her Lord she’d come to realise her powerlessness and how little she truly knew of the world around her. This group was to counter that. They were her pieces, her eyes and ears.

When they were ready, they would go where she could not and gather information for her, or should the need arise, eliminate threats before they arose. That way she could guarantee her Master’s safety and the safety of the growing village.

It had been her Master’s teachings that had originally inspired the idea for this group. She and her Master had been playing chess in the winter and he’d countered every one of her moves before she’d made them. Later he’d confided in her that she’d been trying a similar strategy over and over again, to force her way to his king through the center using overwhelming pieces.

A later word of wisdom had sparked the actual idea. Even now she could hear his sure and calm voice.

“It’s not about speed or strength,” he’d said. “It’s about doing the most with the least amount of effort. Sometimes you have to fight smarter, not harder.”

‘…smarter, not harder.’

The words became the foundation of the group. If she couldn’t go somewhere, then others would. If something was too much for one person, then a group was required. They were the proof of her resolve to her Master, her resolve to protect his forest even if he wasn’t here.

Alena looked up and noticed that the trainees were looking at her expectantly. She’d drifted off in her thoughts. She looked at them and flashed another sign.

‘Hide’

They dispersed in a sudden explosion of movement, each one vanishing into the trees. They would hide and she would find them. Then she would fight and beat them and they would learn to hide and fight better.

And so, the student had become the master.

If only her Lord and Master would return.