I watched—in dev mode—as all my specials got the single-use flag. It wasn’t enough that I was facing a boss that had adjusted to my behavior style: I was going to do it pretty much without special skills. A pro player wouldn’t have any issues—the good ones didn’t rely on game skills when fighting mobs or bosses. Every now and again, I’d still watch streams of my favorite gamers clear entire areas with player skills alone. I knew I was leagues behind in the ability department.

Symbols kept flickering on the walls around me, vanishing one by one. In the end, only three remained.

So those are my trials. I took a step back. Three iconized pictures, three boss monsters, three trials. The way they were drawn, they resembled a fish, a yak, and a bird in a retro pixel game. With virtual kindergartens on the way to becoming legal, this was something they’d use for a low-level mob to keep the children occupied. I wished it would be as easy.

Particles rained down in the middle of the arena. I went into a basic defensive stance. I could feel my muscle tense in real life. Seconds passed. On the fifth, a three-dimensional window emerged floating above the floor.

Chosen board? There were over seventy names written on it, each with a triangular icon on the side. As any gamer, I only focused on the top three: Simon, Legion, SpiceDecker. The top two were painfully generic, but the third I could easily remember.

The list disappeared, replaced by a countdown counter. I had five seconds to get ready for the trial. If nothing else, the quest creators were consistent. I moved back until I was a few steps from the wall, then waited.

The instant the the counter hit zero, the window vanished, replaced by what I could only describe as a massive bull with four sets of horns. Growing up, I had fought all variety of monsters, from coin-size bugs to bosses as large as skyscrapers. Size in the virtual world was relative, often linked to merchandising materials and player participation requirements. “It takes a guild to defeat a mountain” was a quote born out of an event where over three hundred players swarmed the world boss of Mythia Heart 2. Behemoth wasn’t nearly as large, but looking at him terrified me more than I thought anything could.

Log out! Log out! a voice yelled inside my head. Log out before it kills you!

My body refused to obey. In my mind, I saw myself open the main menu of Vesperia and log out. In reality, I remained petrified on the spot, watching in slow motion as Behemoth approached towards me.

“It’s the subtle lack of symmetry,” a female voice said beside me, shocking me out of my paralysis.

I spun around. Leaning against the wall—almost as naked as the last time I saw her—was the elf princess I had caught a glimpse of in the Sylvan Forest.

“There, see?” She pointed at Behemoth, casual as a tourist. “Once you get the right ratios, it tricks the mind into thinking it’s real.”

Fear shot through me like lightning. I rolled sideways into a block stance, expecting the monster to take advantage of me being distracted and attack. It didn’t. The hulking, and highly detailed, form stood there, glaring at me as if it were a background decoration. A large Frozen status indicator hovered over it, along with a series of ever-changing symbols.

What’s going on? I used my identify. Level a hundred and five?!

Before me, staring me in the face, for the first time, was the definite proof that there were levels beyond Vesperia’s cap. I had itched for confirmation ever since I had received the quest, and it had been brought to me in the worst way possible.

My throat felt dry despite being in VR. The beast had seventy two primary stats, each illegible. It was as if someone had gone through the trouble to come up with five dozen additional parameters then encrypt their names. The skills were no different. There had to be hundreds of them, some three symbols long, others the length of a full sentence. The amount was scary. Even if I assumed that three quarters were passive power boosts, the rest were enough to instakill me in a single combo.

“Identing won’t do you any good,” the elf maiden said beside me. “The data is encrypted beyond the game’s interface. You’ll need some heavy duty interpreter code just to peek at the surface.”

“Who are you?” I asked in terror.

“Someone who’s come to help you.” She smiled. “For a price.”

Dark web. The thought crossed my mind. Only a hacker would know so much about code. I tried to use my newfound identify powers on her. The system didn’t even register the elf avatar.

“It’s not like you have a choice.” The elf yawned. “Only five passed this trial without help.”

“You’re lying.” My bravado kicked in. If I had learned one thing in the game world, it was that even snobs didn’t like willing servants. “There were over seventy names. No way you helped them all.”

“I never said that I did.” The elf maiden snapped her fingers.

Behemoth roared back to life and charged right at me. Instinctively, I cast all my protection buffs. A torrent of fire filled the chamber, splashing onto the wall behind me. I felt the heat radiate towards me—not the numb half-sensation that the game offered, but pain as real as when I had burned myself in my parents' house as a child.

Gritting my teeth, I dashed the distance up to Behemoth and did a double slash. Both of my weapons bounced off of its hide as if I’d hit a stone wall. Leaping back, I prepared for another attempt when a new timer appeared above the monster’s head.

“Your specials won’t have any effect.” The elf walked over from behind the Behemoth. “The only way you can win is with non-game skills, and you don’t have many of those.”

As she walked, she smacked the leg of the monster with her hand. It seemed like a casual, no-damage slap, but when the monster’s health bar appeared, it had decreased by a third. If she were fighting seriously, the elf could probably kill it in one strike. I swallowed. My virtual reality avatar was the only thing that kept me from trembling.

“It takes a top progamer to grind down something like this,” the elf went on. “And even then the third trial usually gets you. The five that made it were lucky and very special. You—“ she pointed at me, the side of her mouth curving in a smile “—are just lucky. Isn’t that enough?”

Facing a situation like this, any sane person would agree. That was precisely what made me suspicious. As much as I wanted, there was no way for me to determine whether the elf was part of the trial or not. I had seen her in Vesperia during a standard quest, yet that didn’t mean a thing, especially since Twinkle was working on the dragon egg. She could be anything from a parasite AI to a next gen malware, even a hacker game-shell. For someone of my skills, there was just no way of knowing.

“Tell you what, I’ll give you a proper weapon and let you have a go.” The elf rubbed her hands together. My inventory icon flashed for a moment. “If you win on your own, you won’t owe me anything. If at any point you need my help, just shout that you agree and I’ll take care of the rest.”

“And if I do neither?” I didn’t dare open my inventory window.

“You’ll lose, the egg will crack, and you’ll be spit out back into Vesperia.” She shrugged.

I opened my inventory. Two new swords had appeared. Both had a rather simplistic design and—from what I could tell—not a single stat. They had no name, no prerequisites, no level, no class requirements... almost as if they didn’t exist.

Where are you when I need you, Claire? I equipped one of the swords. A red broadsword formed in my hand, increasing my damage output elevenfold.

“Why are you helping me?” I turned towards the elf. “Why do you care?”

“As I told you, you’re lucky.” Her smile widened. “Less than two dozen people reached this point. Only five of them passed the trials. I'd consider it a waste for you not to.”

There was too much that didn’t make sense. Before I could focus on a question, Behemoth’s timer ran out. The beast unfroze and let out a roar of pain. For a fraction of a second, its head arched back, revealing its chest.

Strike! A voice shouted in my head. You’ll never get a better chance!

If attacked now, I could defeat this beast and prepare for the next. I’d be able to complete the trial and move on without owing the elf a thing. Maybe, I could even take Firestarter? All the Easton’s in the world called out for me to take a chance and attack. The moment passed before my very eyes. I watched as Behemoth finished roaring and looked back down, eyes glowing.

Bloodlust A status indication appeared above the monsters head. As my guild leader would say, “I was in deep shit now”.

I leapt to the side, several fractions too slow to avoid a straight-on attack. One of the horns passed through my protections, hitting my right foot. Burning pain shot through my body, making me want to puke. Instinct made me strike back, chopping off the tip of the monster’s horn.

Potion! Potion! Potion! I kept on triggering the shortcut command as my adrenaline surged. Three potions were exhausted, then four, then five, yet the pain wouldn’t go away.

“Told you that standard items won’t work,” The elf said. I thought I saw her shake her head for a moment. “The only thing you have is yourself and those swords.”

“What’s the price?” I shouted. The moment I did, the frozen status reappeared on behemoth.

“Does it matter?” The elf maiden smirked the same way I used to when answering questions from five-year olds. “You can’t win without me.”

“You can’t get what you want without me.” I did my best not to stutter. It was difficult with constant pain pulsing throughout my body.

“Three trials, three favors.” As she spoke her expression shifted. All trace of amusement vanished, replaced by stern seriousness. “Make that two.” She hit Behemoth with her fist. Before I could blink, the beast’s life bar fell to zero, making the NPC disappear in a rain of voxels. “Two favors for the two pets you didn’t fight.” She snapped her fingers. The swords in my hands disappeared, along with my pain. “Further down the path, I’ll ask you for a few favors. When I do, you must always hear me out. Some of the favors you can reject, some not.”

The choice seemed dismissively generous. If our positions were reversed, my terms would be much harsher, and clearer.

I touched my foot. It was just as it always had been. The pain had become a distant echo, fading quickly from my mind.

“If I say yes, will this help me complete the quest?” I asked.

“No,” the elf whispered. “It’ll help in what follows.”

As much as I liked game mysteries, I hated them in real life. Real life was for certainty—I wanted to be sure I’d have enough for rent, food, net, maybe some additional necessities. That’s why I never took part in the lottery, even when there was a ticket discount. The elf was blurring the boundaries. She had said she was going to ask me for two favors, but she never specified they would be in-game. And if I agreed, I had no idea what I was getting.

“Okay,” I hissed through my teeth. As much as I wanted to say no just to spite her, I knew I couldn’t. I was hooked to the hundred level quest. If there was an advantage to be had by this deal, I needed it. “You have your two favors.”

“Thanks.” The elf winked.

There were many times in my life I had watched something with such fascination and awe that my mind had almost shut down: the first twelve-speed speedrun, the King of the Kings FPS world tournament. What the elf made me witness was right up there with them. I had clearly seen every single action she had made, yet the whole fight remained a blur, as if someone had hacked my memories and removed eight of every ten frames and left my mind to figure it out.

The elf hadn’t waited for the monsters to fully spawn for her to attack. I had watched her casually run to the center of the arena and strike the first form that appeared there. She didn’t use any weapons, no spells, or augments, just a single kick or punch. The first NPC was dead before I could make out its form. The second remained a few fractions of a second longer—enough for me to see it had wings and a beak—before it too was rendered to particles.

“Sarah?” Twinkle’s voice rang in my ears. “Sarah, your rig was unresponsive for four minutes, seventeen seconds. Do you want me to send a ticket to the manufacturer?”

“Everything’s fine, Twinkle,” I lied. The Chosen Board window had appeared in front of me. There was no congratulations message, no token reward, no gift item. My inventory was unchanged since the moment I had entered the egg. The only proof I had gone through this ordeal was my name on the list under number four.

“FlickerFlacker sent another two messages, while you were gone,” Twinkle continued with his normal priorities, completely unbothered by what had happened. Sometimes I wished I too could forget my worries with a simple user confirmation. “Do you—“

“Send him a message to meet me at Bent Cliffs,” I interrupted.

“Sure thing, Sarah!” I could hear Twinkle smile as he used his standard response. “Where are you right now?”

“I don’t know.” I sat down on the arena floor. Cracks had started appearing in the walls around me, but they weren’t my concern. “I honestly don’t know.”