He lay in the street for several moments catching his breath and waiting for the crimson spots around his vision to fade away. He didn't have anywhere to go. Why not lay here in the mud and blood?

His pity party was growing to truly epic proportions. Arron was starting to see some real bonuses to the effort he put into coddling his ego, when a familiar face appeared, and a friendly brogue interrupted his gloomy thoughts.

"Havin a wee bit of a rough one, I see," Torbin said. Arron wasn't sure, but the dwarf might have smiled briefly at his poor joke.

"Leave me alone, dwarf," Arron replied. "Let me suffer in peace."

Torbin nodded. "Aye, I can do that. But do you mind suffering to the side of the road? Some of us are tired of walking around you."

True enough, he was getting more dirty looks from people on horseback, and one fellow on a cart as they tried to steer around him. Grumbling, he crawled to the side of the street, with Torbin helping him along.

Settling in, leaning his back against the tavern he'd just been thrown out of in a last-ditch insult to authority, he smiled to himself at his cleverness and closed his eyes.

The dwarf sat next to him, pulled out a pipe and lit it. Puffing at his pipe, he watched people walk by, occasionally chuckling at some joke only he knew.

Arron ignored him. He was nursing his heavy dose of self-pity, and the dwarf's good mood wasn't going to ruin it.

Bella. How was he going—

Torbin sighed in contentment, blowing out a long puff of smoke.

Arron glanced at the dwarf, annoyed he'd interrupted his train of thought, and tried again.

Bella. He—

The dwarf chuckled.

"What the hell is so funny?" Arron snapped.

Torbin pulled his pipe out of his mouth, pointing with the mouthpiece. "Do you see that bloke there?"

Arron looked where the dwarf was indicating and saw a mid-twenties man with a solid build nervously standing outside a building across the street.

"The football player looking guy?"

"That's the one. Well, I'll let ya in on a bit of a secret." He dropped his voice to a whisper and leaned closer. "His real-world name is Colin. He's about forty-three and spends his days working as a CPA. We ran some raids back in the day, ended up friends on TikTok. Anyway, here in just a moment, you'll see—ah! There she is."

An attractive young woman with dark hair and a full suit of fantasy armor exited the building.

"See, her real-life name is Meredith," Torbin continued. "Similar story, except she was a bridesmaid for one of my guild members. She's about forty-one, makes her living as a pet nanny. Anyway, Colin has a massive crush on Meredith in-game. And Meredith feels the same. Though they haven't ever met outside the game. Well, everyone knows they each like the other, except for them, of course, which is the classic story, isn't it?"

Torbin gave Arron a slight, conspiratorial nudge, then ran a hand down the length of his thick beard.

"What they also don't know is that they live in the same building! Poor Colin and Meredith have met dozens of times and get tea on the weekends! They have feelings for each other in the real world too!" Torbin started chuckling again. "Basically, everyone in the zone is waiting for one of them to realize so we can congratulate them, but until then, watching their obvious discomfort as they try to be smooth... priceless."

Arron worked his addled mind to focus on the two people. Now that the dwarf pointed it out, each really were trying hard to impress the other. The guy was literally brushing his hand through his hair and, not so subtlety, flexing his bicep.

"Why don't they just tell each other? You know, shoot their shot?"

"Ah. Not used to chasing love and such, I see. Attractive in the real world, too, eh?" Torbin said, taking a long draw off his pipe. "Suffice to say, neither is confident the other will be interested, and they're both scared of being rejected. Give them some time. They'll figure it out. And when they do, oh will it be a party!"

Arron clearly didn't understand these people. Shaking his head, he decided not to worry about it. He wasn't here to play matchmaker. He caught a whiff of something and looked over at Torbin in surprise.

"Does that pipe smell like grape Dum Dums?"

"Aye, and tastes like it too. I always loved the things. But you try eating a sucker with a big bushy beard," Torbin gruffed. "Horrible mess."

The dwarf took a deep pull on the pipe, blowing out a smoke ring that twisted and turned, reorganizing itself until it looked like three triangles stacked on each other, the center missing. It was clearly a deliberate symbol, but Arron had no idea what it meant.

"Tri-Force. Gotta love the classics," Torbin smiled.

They sat that way for a few hours. Torbin occasionally pointed out something Arron wouldn't understand, chuckling and going back to puffing his pipe.

It was the first time since Arron had logged in – since the car crash, really – that he'd allowed himself to be still. To not keep driving the momentum towards fixing the situation. Emotions he kept crushing down started fighting their way into his calmer consciousness, and the threat of tears began to burn. He wiped his eyes, carefully controlling his thoughts. He couldn't afford to spiral again.

But he could sit.

And so he did. The quiet, calm, and company like a bandage on his wounded soul.

Torbin remained quiet for a long time. Occasionally Arron would catch glimpses of the dwarf looking into the distance, sadness creasing his crow's feet. And then his vision would harden, an aura of determination and—was that violence, emitting briefly?

Torbin caught him looking and sadly smiled at Arron. "It's clear something has you here, that you have something to do perhaps. I can respect that. Do you know why I play this game?"

Arron shook his head.

"I play this silly game, often for hours or days at a time, because here, in this world..." he sighed. "The hero always wins. Maybe not immediately, and maybe not for a long time, but eventually, the hero will win." Torbin took a long pull on his pipe, blowing it out his nose as he focused on something Arron couldn't see. "I like a place like that, boy. Where ultimately good prevails."

Arron hadn't spent much time thinking about the other players and their motivation. He figured everyone was some role-playing nerd. The idea that people played this game for the kind of escape Torbin hinted at was... different.

Their sentry of the street continued and the sun began to set in the distance. Blues and purples flooded golds and oranges as the lighting in the world changed.

"Do you mind if I ask you something?" Arron asked.

"Shoot."

"When we first met, and I was kind of a dick to you—"

"Aye, that's an understatement," Torbin replied with a scoff.

Arron looked over at Torbin and found a smile waiting for him. "Alright, well, I was an understated dick to you then."

Torbin chuckled and elbowed Arron good-naturedly in the side. "Aye. Aye. What about it?"

"You said something about not having been granted my class yet. Do you remember?"

Torbin grunted in the affirmative.

"Well, what did you mean?"

Torbin pegged a quizzical eye on Arron. "What do you mean, what did I mean?"

"What is being 'granted a class?' Is that a thing that happens to everyone?"

Torbin's face twisted between disbelief and self-assurance. "Surely you're playing with me. Do you mean to tell me you don't yet have a class?"

Arron shrugged. "Not that I know of. How do I get one? "

"Well, one is assigned of course! After you reach level five. The game goes through how you've played the game and assigns you a class based on your actions. Hammer and stone, didn't you go through the tutorial?"

Arron looked down sheepishly. "Actually, I sorta skipped it."

"You skipped it?" Disbelief covered Torbin's face. "You skipped it. Lemme get this straight: you logged into a fully immersive world with thousands of years of built-in history, complex game mechanics, millions of players, forty-three countries, five continents, and a literal growing AI system to interact with, and you thought was what? 'Nah, I don't need that information?'"

"I was in a hurry!"

"I'll bet you were!" Torbin looked at Arron like he was either the most amazing or dumbest person he ever met. Likely both. "Okay, well. Lemme see. I'm not sure I've ever had to explain this to someone."

"Gee, thanks."

Torbin waved off Arron's complaint and searched for where to start. "Okay, so in most games, your class is something you choose, right? You decide if you want to play a wizard or a warrior. Well, Interius isn't like that. Here, the system assigns you a class based on the way you play the game. So, if you spend time trying to cast spells, you're more likely to get a magic class. You go hit things with a stick? Some sort of warrior class. Do you sneak around and steal stuff? Rogue. Make sense?

"The game uses the first four levels to interpret your initial play, assigns you a class, and then updates as you continue to level. Watching your class grow and change is part of the fun of the game. What level are you? You have to be level five by now, right? You've been in the game a few weeks at this point."

Arron just shrugged. "I don't know, actually."

"You don't know?"

Arron shook his head.

"HOW DO YOU NOT KNOW!" Torbin exploded. "Your level is one of the single most important character traits in the game! Class and level, that's most of what Interius is! How do you just not know what yours is?"

Arron was starting to get annoyed now. "Look. I wasn't interested in 'playing a game,' so I didn't bother to learn these things."

Torbin, hearing the edge in Arron's voice, took a deep breath. He swore under his breath for several moments while looking off in the distance. Arron was sure he heard something along the lines of "swore I wouldn't gatekeep newbs, but..."

"Ok... looks like we're really starting from the beginning. Honestly, I don't think I can cover everything that basic." He waved for Arron to be quiet before he could protest. "I'm not saying I won't help, but you need to go through the tutorial."

Arron brightened. "I can still do the tutorial? How?"

"Aye, you access it through the menu. It's there in case you need to refresh on some of the more complex subjects like crafting, politics, and raids."

Arron gave Torbin an expectant nod.

"You... access it through the menu." Torbin's left eye twitched a little.

"And how do I access the menu?"

Torbin pinched the bridge of his nose. "Oh, sweet pudding pies. You access the menu the way you access most everything in the game. You will it to open."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"Exactly what I said. You just, will it to open, intend it to open. Maybe 'try to open it' is a better way to put it. It will open automatically from your intention." Arron's skeptical grunt had Torbin shaking his pipe at him. "Aw, just give it a try, ya lout!"

Arron rolled his eyes, feeling incredibly foolish.

He thought about opening the system menu, and focused on just sort of... wanting to open it. A screen popped up in his vision.

System Options Game Interface: Will Stat Allocation: Automatic Skill Allocation: Automatic Minimap: Off Crafting Assistant: Off Notifications: Hidden Nameplates: Off Pain Tolerance: 0% Inebriation Effects: On Tutorial Log Out

"What the fuck!" Arron jerked away, knocking his head against the taverns wall.

He winced, rubbing the back of his head as he took in the bright screen that appeared in front of him. Slightly translucent and easy to read, Arron instantly recognized what looked like an options menu from computer programs he'd used before. The screen started to move so it didn't cover his vision, shrinking and sliding around. He got the impression it sought the best place to rest where he could inspect it but remain unobtrusive. Finally, after a second or two, it settled off to the right. Glancing at it intentionally brought the screen back as the main object in his view until he looked somewhere else. Since the screen was mainly translucent, when he wasn't reading it, it didn't obstruct his vision and was easy to minimize.

"Clearly, the options opened," Torbin smirked. "Interius interprets your intention and acts based on that. It's part of what makes the game so great. It can literally adapt itself to be a better experience for you. I'll bet the screen moved until it found somewhere you found comfortable, right?"

Arron nodded.

"Most of the game interface will do that. Once you open it, it figures out the most intuitive way for each person to interact with it and remembers it going forward, occasionally making small changes to keep current. I'm baffled how you've been in-game as long as you have, and not accessed a single screen." Shaking his head, Torbin looked at Arron expectantly. "Well?"

"Well, what?" Arron replied, confused.

"Do the tutorial, ya idgit!" Torbin bellowed. "I'll watch your body, make sure nobody messes with ya. But not a single other thing until you do the damned tutorial and learn how to play the game!"

"Oh, right." Arron took a deep breath, preparing himself for—he didn't know what.

"Umm... how do I—" he started, focusing on the Tutorial option, when a bright flash covered his vision. He was pulled into a spinning purple vortex that manifested out of the light. He screamed and grabbed at the now non-existent ground, trying to connect to something solid as he was yanked into the portal, heading to learn how to play.

"Stupid gaaame!"