Run, run, run, as fast as you can! No one could catch Ivan. He was the gingerbread man.

His buttons were sweet. His head was as crispy as his feet, browning in the morning heat, and no one, not even Rowan Black, could best Ivan in another bread-stick duel. The kid dared to show his face among the trees, only for a second, sneering like a sleaze. Always sneering. The kid was in for a special brown treat, one which Ivan would gladly repeat, again and again.

Soaring through the mist, wings spread wide, Ivan was an unstoppable force on featherlight feet. He was invincible and refreshed in the ozone scent cascading down from the mountains, and he was not insane. It was Not Insane! He hadn’t ever felt so good. He was free and unbounded, his mind cleared and sharpened to an infinity’s edge.

He was Not Insane.

The voices said something, but he paid them no attention, starved them of what they desired: his love and willpower. They were nothing more than nuisances conjured by strange forces distracting him from this ordained path to the quarry. Big loot was hiding there, treasure worth millions.

He licked his lips. A sweet and golden cache, without a shred of doubt, was buried near the quarry. He was experienced enough to know magical things often spawn in clumps. The world’s random generation was purpose, either on purpose or incompetence, and Ivan was going to capitalize before any other hooked-nose weasel.

He doubled his pace, his legs a shimmering blur above the shit-colored dirt.

Then lightning whipped up his back, the shock of his life, as he sped past a figure hanging from a branch. He ducked and rolled, blinking behind a boulder, panting.

“Raven Call,” he spat in the dark language. The majestic bird burst forth from his chest in an eruption of dark mana. And when he was about to attack the figure, he pulled back—because in the mist, in a willow tree, a slender Dark Human girl was sitting on branch, her toes a meter above ground. She held no weapon.

She was a very odd girl; her hair was braided behind a silver masquerade-style make that covered the top half of her face and emphasized her jaw. She was wearing a dress made of what appeared as gold mail, quite revealing around her medium-sized bosom and cut high above her knees. Her legs were swinging. Her body language was non-threatening for what he could discern.

Sazar Eastwind (Dark Human): Level 7

Health: 150

Stamina: 120

Mana: 100

Only level seven?

Choking on saliva, Ivan stood from his crouch. He rubbed his eyes, pinched his cheek, and calmed his pulse with hardly composed breaths through the nose to make sure he was hallucinating… Please be nothing. But he wasn’t seeing a pixie dust puppet; the girl was very real and very alive. She remained sitting on the branch, her face stoic though a little bit playful—not threatening.

No weapons either.

He called off the raven; it dispersed into feathery ink. “Hello,” he said gruffly.

And when she kept pretending to not notice, he approached with lengthy steps. Confusion pinched his face doggishly as he came out of Stealth. “What are you doing?”

“Hmm? Are you talking to me?” She was less monotone than the others.

“Yes, you. What are you doing?”

“I’m sitting. Can’t you see?”

He ran his fingers through his hair. “Are you lost? You’re two miles from the base. Just follow the path that way.” He thumbed over his shoulder.

“I’m not lost.”

“They’re going to blame me if they find your corpse. Don’t be stupid.” He shoved the butt of his dagger into her shin, gently. “Get going. Now.”

“I’m not stupid.”

“Then why are you here?”

“I’m sitting, relaxing.” Her head tilted by less than a degree, exactly like Katarina. “Why are you here, Not Insane? Why are you talking to me?”

Why am I wasting time with this bitch? he thought to himself.

Maybe it was something about her unique dress and mask. Or her one silver eye. She wasn’t exactly like the other Dark Humans; she was more life-like, more normal; her AI was more convincing despite her near-monotone articulation. She had minuet expressions of her body and inflections of her voice. She was like Derek.

But she was just another NPC bitch, a very low level one at that. She wasn’t worth the time. She wasn’t worth anyone’s time.

Ivan huffed amusement, then said bluntly, “I’m going to explore the quarry. Bye.” He turned away.

“Wait.”

“What?” he growled, glancing back.

“Why are you exploring?”

“Mining quest from Derek. Mystery reward.”

“Then I’m coming.”

“Not sharing.”

Her lips wrinkled. “I’m still coming.”

“Level ninety elementals roam the path. You’d die in one hit, but if you have a death wish, then I don’t care.”

“Oh.” Her eyes dipped to the ground, then bounced back to him. “I’m sure I’ll be fine.” She smiled with lips only, hopped off the branch, and walked to him with an off-balance yet alluring gait. Her hips almost swayed. She was attractive enough, not the hottest girl in this world, but attractive enough.

Fuckable.

He shuffled back and refused the bait, “I’m serious. You’re not getting any of my loot. I’m not going to powerlevel or babysit you.”

“Baby. Sit? I’m not a baby… or a child.”

“It’s an expression from the divine realm, my world. I’m not going to protect you, yes?” Ivan felt his brow furrow. “And you can’t even keep up. Ye, I’m wasting time.” His eyes rolled. He waved her off, turned on Stealth, and ran away toward the mine.

She did keep up, running in sync. Her limbs moved faster than her character stats should have allowed.

Immediately suspicious, Ivan shot another Examine at her. He found the same stats as before. Level seven. Classless. There were a handful of things in the game that could camouflage one’s level, and they were all either rare skills or expensive temporary potions and enchantments.

But if she could afford a dress made of a gold alloy, then all bets were off the table. That explained why she wasn’t afraid being out here all alone—a lone girl waiting to be preyed upon by beasts or otherwise.

He said calmly into the wind, “Show your true self.”

“This is my true self.”

“Don’t fucking lie.”

“I’m not lying. I am being earnest.”

Rage fired up his belly. He sucked on his tongue, seeing a few stars. He hated lying bitches who played these games. Was she the mystery warrior? His fingers tightened around his dagger, ready to strike. He could have her in chains in under a second.

She said, “I’m a high-level Miner. You?”

For a couple dozen strides around a curve in the path, he considered his words carefully. He brushed off the voices comments suggesting him to be truthful. He did so anyway: “I don’t have professions. No time for that boring crap. I go for loot and big heists.”

“I heard. You’re not planning to steal from us, are you?”

He tisked. “That depends. I’m not a rabid savage. I can make deals. If we can get a partnership going, then no, I won’t swipe anything, but if you lot piss me off, or if you’re useless, then why not?”

“I see. You have your own code of honor.”

“Sure, I guess. If you help me get what I want, then maybe I’ll help you in return, though don’t count on it.” And he had done the same for Gabby. Look where that partnership had ended—betrayal. No, betrayal wasn’t the right word. They had drifted apart, and he had been cast to the side like an unwanted dog.

“What do you want, Not Insane?”

“Anything expensive. If you find rare gems and metals, its mine. I’m not splitting. Got it?”

“A tough bargain.”

They were running uphill now. The rubber of his boots crunched down on the rocky soil; so did the uncalloused skin of her feet, which did not bleed against occasional sharp stones. She was hiding her true self, definitely. He wasn’t hallucinating… or being paranoid like his doctors would say. And he wasn’t hallucinating her or her faint coconut scent… or her bouncing chest.

She had a nice body, a bit pale for his taste, but nice nevertheless. Very fuckable.

Desire churned in Ivan’s waist. He swallowed and reminded himself there wasn’t time to waste on that, especially in this world full of whores and whore houses, a lot like the real world, honestly. They were cheap as well.

But he had other problems in this regard that he didn’t like to dwell on. He refocused on his primary goal, upping the pace.

Again, she kept up, and up here, the mist was thinner. An outline of that enormous mountain in the distance was clear as piss. He asked, “Have you been there?” His chin jerked.

“No, but we were planning—”

“We as in Derek and the others?”

“Yes, Derek and the others, and I, were planning to send a scout soon.”

“How soon?”

“Maybe when the next group of settlers arrive.”

“When’s that?” he asked in a tired voice.

“You’ll see, Not Insane.”

He sighed a mushroom cloud into the mist. He should be the one in the know, in command, but he was reduced to errand boy status. “Whatever, bitch.”

“Bitch? A female dog?”

“You got it.”

“Hmmm. Your kind is very strange. I want to know more about your world.”

He glanced at her curiously. “Is that what you want?”

“It is. I’d like to know everything about your world. Your culture, food, architecture, technology. Everything. I’ll agree to your demand of not splitting what we find if you answer my questions.”

Now that was a bargain he didn’t need to haggle over. Grinning like a sane man, he said in a sly voice, “Well… that is a lot you’re asking, but I’m feeling generous. What’s your first question?”

“I heard some adventurers have different names in your world. What’s yours?”

Easy question. “Ivan.”

“Ivan Insane?”

“Yes,” he lied. He wasn’t going to risk letting his identity slip, even to an NPC.

“Hmmm. Does your true identity matter?”

“Yes. Next question.”

She giggled. The sound was like Gabby’s giggle but mellower. “Okay, Ivan Insane, what does your world look like?”

“You really don’t know? You’ve never seen a painting or anything?”

“I really don’t.”

He breathed through annoyance, slowed down along a jagged ledge on the path, and prepared for a tedious, tedious conversation. He reminded himself she had claimed she was a high-level miner. This could be worth it; the gems and metals markets were doing well these days with the influx of players for open beta.

And Sazar did have a calming effect on him. The voices had been quiet for a while now.

He began describing: “The divine realm is both like this world and not. In terms of landscape, it is very similar, but our buildings are unlike anything you’ve seen…” he drawled on and on about modern architecture and cars and planes and things that she could likely understand without headaches. He rambled about whatever came to mind: cars, guns, submarines, cafes. Anything not complicated.

And she did seem to understand; when he got the part about how cold and run-down his current town was, she interrupted: “Why don’t you live somewhere warmer?”

“Because that’s the only place I could find work. The economy isn’t doing well.” Which was true, because of automation and AI, and he didn’t bother gushing out a story about that bastard Vlad. Ivan wasn’t a little crying bitch.

“Adventurers trade items in this world for divine realm currency? This is your motivation?”

“You got it. Don’t shit around with me here.”

She didn’t speak again as they stepped around the spot where Ivan had died earlier. Blood stained the ground as though an artist had taken a giant brush and smeared maroon-brown shit down the path but was too lazy to include Ivan’s corpse. He snapped a screenshot, the game interface making a shuck-shuck sound effect.

I can start a blog or something, he thought. There had to be people out there who were interested in the infamous Not Insane.

One of the fiends said, Don’t kid yourself. You’re a farce.

Piss off, he snapped back.

Then Sazar poked his upper arm with a solid pinky finger, leaving a bruise. “Ivan, did you hear me?”

“What?” He slashed her a glance. His face was a lot meaner than he wanted.

She wasn’t bothered. “The mine was that way to the left.”

“I know.” Facial muscles ticked in embarrassment. “I’m checking for that mystery fighter.”

“On the plateau?”

“Where else?”

She tittered, “You do think ahead.”

His dagger hand twitched, wanting to stab her through the neck. He held back for time being; she was only slightly stepping on his nerves.

True to her word, as they ran through a rock arch, a colossal plateau, overhanging the plains to the east, stretched onward into the mist, which was now mostly evaporated in the rising sun. Despite that, Ivan couldn’t see the other side. The ground was fatter than Sazar’s forehead, and a single Lesser Granite Elemental, fifty yards away, was wandering back and forth like a drunkard grasping for another drink.

“Raven Call!” Ivan bellowed, his arm spread wide.

The glorious bird of death erupted from chest and soared high above. It cawed once, twice, its wings spreading wide, then spewed a hail of Death Bolts. Merely half a volley, the raven shredded the elemental into blackening chunks. Its earthy mana core died with a shudder in the air.

And that’s how it was done—one-hit KO.

Behind, Sazar was clapping. She mumbled under her breath, “Wow. You showed that level seventy elemental who is their lord.” A sarcastic edge was in her voice. “I was worried for a second.”

“Say that again,” he spat.

“Hmm? Say what?”

He bit his tongue and turned on his heel, his boot scuffing dangerously close to her toes as a warning. “Let’s just go.” He didn’t have time for her games. Really, he was used to it after putting up with Gabby and her crap for so long. Sazar, in comparison, was a breath of fresh air. Her braided hairstyle was also superior—very classy and ten times cuter. He didn’t want or need Gabby anymore. There were a million better girls out there.

So long, bitch.

Back through the arch, he remembered to ask, “Sazar. Why do the Darks Humans want to wipe out the normal Humans? Are they just crazy or what?”

She answered in absolute monotone: “Firstly, it’s Say-zar, not Suh-zar. You can call me Zar if you want. Secondly, everyone who was converted, apart from the first hundred from Stonehurst, were already of darkness. We don’t want to kill anyone. We are… merely fine with doing so if it has to be done to ensure our future, although a certain few of us enjoy doing so a little too much. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“Yes, I get you,” he said dismissively. He was only curious and little more than that; he only wanted to understand these Dark Humans. “How many have died so far?”

“So far? Only those who were in the slums. The capital was evacuated before the shield fell. So were surrounding towns and villages last night. You don’t know?”

“What do you think I am? I can’t remember every last detail.” He followed her down the other path, down a steep incline. The quarry emerged through the mist, thicker here than up there under the shadow of a mountain tip.

She said pointedly, “You remember a lot about your world down to the holes in your roads.”

“Those potholes are fucking hell. Everyday I put up with them on the bus. They’ve given me brain damage.”

“The bus?”

Bones clicked in his neck. “It’s a big, long car for many people. Public transport. Remember what a car is?”

“I do. It’s like a big mount made of metal on rubber wheels, correct?”

“Yes. Do you remember where I’m from?”

“North Siberia, and your native tongue a language called… Russian?”

“Spot on.”

“My turn. You said you hated spicy food, but what kind of foods do you fancy, if you fancy any at all?”

Her memory was at least mediocre, and she was kind of smart; he gave her that, if nothing else, so he kept answering these mundane questions, listing the kinds of food he enjoyed: pasta, very mild butter chicken curry, and anything containing slow-cooked beef. He also rambled on about how people cooked without magic—because why not?

She listened with genuine interest, and didn’t risk cracking another sarcastic remark.

He had a good feeling about this partnership, the voices agreeing. He smacked the fiends away. He didn’t need their input to make up his own mind about her. If nothing else, she was nice to talk to, a lot nicer than the fiends. She invoked a pleasant calm in him. It didn’t matter if she was an NPC. So what?

Maybe Garold was right.