Complete - A Requiem to the Departed

Hidden: Bradwynne's clothes at this moment

Bradwynne was awakened by a drop of water that hit him in his left cheek. It was then followed by an assault of drops on his whole body: it was raining within a forest clearing somewhere in Brisshal. It was then he realized that in that last battle against that revenant, he was killed. The drop from that last skirmish, an orb of deep blood color, was lying on the grass within his sight, so was some pieces of clothing and necessities that he knew he carried with him always in his inventory to be summoned whenever it would be needed. Although he knew it could happen to him once he would die again, those garments strewn around him was a rude awakening to what might have happened to him. It was confirmed when he tried to view his UI, and was not unable to do it.

That from this point onwards, this game would be his reality, although he did not know if he really was the same person as from before he died that death.

As that person, his persona in the real world, Kieran Lambert, would be found dead sooner or later. It was the same from when the three of them found out in the house of a person who got his UI destroyed in a similar fashion: his real-life persona died, and all that was left was his in-game persona, or what might be a copy of his consciousness done by the developer of the game.

He should have stopped risking his life to save other people to suffer the same fate as those who have already departed from the real world. He should have just informed everyone about this matter, and left the game for good. Better yet, he should have informed the VRSA about the potential risks of playing this game. That way more lives might be saved.

But he chose to save a number of players from dying from a very difficult quest, without informing them what was going on, and then died even when he was just trying to help out and kept his engagements in fighting at a bare minimum.

But, as he then thought that it was pointless to think about it, he then thought to organize his things and move on, as it was his only choice. He knew he kept a small cart in his inventory before, and, spotting it, he then stood up and then deftly arrange all of his things that had once been in his inventory into the cart; except the crystal longsword that he sheathed on his back, the ivory dagger that he sheathed on his waist, and the rosary that he wore on his neck. He then searched for some boulder, and finding a suutable one, he carried it over to the place where he had lied, and then, getting a small knife, he then started to inscribe on the boulder as if he was making a tombstone, while a faint sound of him humming Chopin's Funeral March was reverberating within the mild rain.

 

It was a rainy day. Manya was hunched up together, his wizard's hat flopping as water slid off of it. The edges of his coat were muddy from being dragged along the forest floor, and he held his grimoire close to his heart, as the pitter-patter of rain around him made for a comforting ambiance, even if it was uncomfortable physically. The tiny Faerin was making his way through the Brisshal forest nor for any purpose but because he wished to explore it further - this was where it all started, and this was the place he felt most comfortable in. Adventurers had no homes, but if he'd ever settle one, it might be someplace here.

Even as the blue-swathed White Magician made his way along, he heard a peculiar sound, a particular chk-chk-chk. Metal grinding against stone, perhaps? His Faerin ears twitched a few times as it tried to locate the source of the noise through the sound of rain when he heard another noise - whistling. His eyes brightened; someone was nearby? It took him a moment to figure out exactly which direction the sound was coming from, but it wasn't too distant, as the young Faerin pushed aside some of the bushes and the undergrowth to step into the clearing.

He could see a figure, an unfamiliar figure that was working at a boulder. He was dressed like an adventurer, or perhaps a normal traveler through the rain, and there was a cart nearby, loaded with materials that Manya didn't examine too closely, nor wished to. The man himself, he did not see clearly, as Manya had approached from behind, and quietly too owing to his natural diminutiveness and mouse-like tendencies.

"Ah, hello?", he asked, standing a distance away from the man and his work as he watched from afar. He didn't want to startle the person, who seemed to be quite intent and focused on...whatever he was doing. Was he carving out a memorial, or instructions on the rock? He could not guess. He could not tell.

@Bradwynne

 

Bradwynne continued to inscribe the words that he wanted to see on his tombstone if he would have the chance to tell it to his family. Although he was not sure if his real-life persona was the same as the one he was today, that person was the reason that he was created in the first place, in a sense, his father. And so, now that person died, and as maybe no one would discover Kieran's body yet due to him always living alone, Bradwynne felt it fit to construct a memorial for the departed to grieve for the unexpected loss of a young person who might have a bright future ahead of him but had not stood out much due to an early death, like Cao Chong, Evariste Galois, and Henry Moseley of old. And so, with deft strokes of the small dagger, he inscribed the epigraph that would aptly describe the dead half of him.

Hidden: Inscriptions on the Tombstone

†
KIERAN LAMBERT
October 29, 2011 - (date right then), 2026

"FOR THERE IS NO MORE REMEMBRANCE OF THE WISE THAN OF A FOOL FOREVER, SINCE ALL THAT NOW IS WILL BE FORGOTTEN IN THE DAYS TO COME. AND HOW DOES A WISE MAN DIE? AS A FOOL!" ECCLESIASTES 2:16, NKJV​

As he was inscribing those words, he sensed someone was approaching him from his back. He did not turn his head towards who was approaching, but continued to carve on the boulder. But that did not mean that he was neglecting the figure that was approaching him on his back; he was pretending not to notice the figure so that it would be caught off-guard if it would assail him, so he himself could have the advantage. The small knife in his hand should be enough as a distraction while he would draw his main weapon, the crystal longsword on his back. And so, as he continued to inscribe, he tried to sense who was moving towards him, gauging from the movement of the raindrops that were hitting them, hoping that his bonuses on visual and sensory perceptions would work even without his UI. But even before he tried on doing that, the figure on the back spoke and said hello. As fortunately his inscriptions were finished that time, he then turned towards the person. By the stature and the sharpish ears, he deduced that it was a faerin, and by the equipment on his body, he deduced that he was a spellcaster. Although he seemed to not have any bad intention as of the moment, it was always important not to let his guard down. And so he tried to smile, although he was still feeling sad about what happened recently, and then said, "What is it?"

 

Manya smiled right back - his own was genuine and whole-hearted, but he could see that the other's was not as complete. So far, Manya has come to the understanding that not everyone is always happy, that sadness was just as integral to a person as their happiness. He stepped a bit closer, completely calm and at ease with the surroundings, despite the rain.

"I saw you working on something, and I thought that you might need my help?", he asked, before tilting his head, leaning around to look past the man's figure to see the boulder. There were etchings on it, not too clear for him to make out, but he saw the topmost line and the symbol above that.

A grave...

Or, not a grave. A memorial. Not the fancy and extravagantly planned one, but muted, simpler...placed in an unmarked clearing in one of Brisshal's forests. And this was a player, too. The characters in the game do not subscribe to such actions, and they follow other religions.

No, he was face to face with another player, from his gear to his appearance. But something about him felt...off. Was it the fact that unlike most players, he was not totally unburdened? Or the fact that in Manya's sporadic usage of Investigation Mode, he did not show up as a player character?

That was what made the first hints of wonder enter Manya's eyes. Something was strange, something was wrong, but he could not put his finger on it. Or rather, he could, but there was an automatic assumption that it'd be impossible, and completely ludicrous...
He walked forward curiously, his eyes fixated on the memorial. Parts of it becoming clearer as he got closer.

 

As he heard the words of the faerin, Bradwynne then relaxed himself. As he returned the penknife to its sheath, he then replied to the person that was helping him, "Oh, I am just finished here. There should be no need for this one to be as beautiful as possible, maybe he would not want those kinds of things for his grave." He then looked up towards the part of the sky that was visible from the clearing. The remaining bits of rock that was not dislodged by the knife during the time he was carving on it was being dislodged by the rain, making the carvings he did become more visible and readable. "Poor little guy, died suddenly without any warning. But I guess, although I really did not like him to leave like this, I guess that is common in any world, right?" He tried to conceal from this newcomer the fact that the memorial he placed in this area was actually his own, as if he would divulge this to the person, maybe the person would laugh, as it was impossible for him to think of those things actually happening. There was always a right time for anything, and so he would defer it for later, or maybe not at all. He closed his eyes, and in the midst of the rain hitting his youthful face, another set of water droplets streamed from the closed eyes. He then sighed. "Sometimes even with all the magic in this world, and all the science in the other side, nothing could stop it when it comes."

He then stared as the newcomer moved slowly forward towards the memorial that he made. It was as if he knew the person that was referred to it, but if it was really true, he could not put a finger to it. He had known far too many people in Philadelphia that it should be hard for him to distinguish if there was that same person who would act the same as this person right here. And it should be harder given that most of the players of this game happened to be role-playing. Only a few were like him who brought his own persona here, and adjusted his avatar to be more like his own figure in the real world, only scaled up. And so he then asked a question, "You know the man? By the way you look at that, it seemed you were close in the real world. You're also a player right? I can tell by the clothes you were wearing."

 

Manya studied the grave, serious for once. Even as he listened to the other man speak, he could tell that this grave held a lot more significance, more than his nonchalant words might indicate. He rubbed his gloved finger over the dates, staring at it.

Jesus...the kid was younger than he was, even if it was only by a year, give or take. He sighed and stood up. The name held a vague familiarity, but nothing that swiftly came to mind. Perhaps one of his online friends? It'd make sense that the people who share his tastes in games and such would also find their way here.

"No, not really...or well, as close as people across the world might be. Kieran Lambert..." He absently nodded at the man's second question.

"Of course, I'm a player. I've been playing this for a while now...or not really. I'm still a newbie, I should think!" He laughed; it was hollow. "Yeah, death is rarely expected. I'm not sure which is better, to die knowing, or to die unexpectedly. But perhaps dwelling on such morbid thoughts is not...conducive to sanity." He looked at his palm.

"If only magic was real..."

Yes, that's why they were all here, weren't they? Games as a form of escapism. If a challenge was all people wanted, then they'd just play the old stuff, where things got harder, everything moved faster until you hit a point where you can't keep up with the machine's absolute control, and lost. But people made games more and more elaborate, weaving fiction into them. More than a book, or movies, games captured you, drew you in, made you a part of the story. And this game, Terrasphere went to the absolute logical extremity - you are in the story. The lines between reality and fiction start getting blurry once you're here, and when you log off to see just your bedroom, you start to wonder where you truly live: out there, or in here?

A sudden death...an illegal game...

He looked up at the man. Rain did not trail from one's eyes, not the same way tears did. He straightened up from the grave and studied the other man.

"I knew him only nominally...but you seem like you knew him better if you both mourn his death as well as move to make a memorial for him. Who are you, if I might ask?"

He dreaded the answer. It was like that feeling, of knowing that your parents were right warning you about something or another, except it was amplified several times more. But even if he didn't want to hear that answer, he'd have to come to terms with it. It was better he did that sooner later than later. Fiction was good, but there comes a time where you had to wake up and face the reality.

 

Bradwynne then stared at the newcomer as he placed his hand near his own birth, and his possible death, dates. It seemed like he was shocked at his age when he died, but he always thought that everyone would be shocked at it. But he thought, that was life, it was always unexpected, as he reflected upon as he inscribed the epigraph. A wise man dies like a fool dies, there should be not any much difference.

Pondering about the first response, he then replied, "Well, just as I expected. Never knew much people in our vicinity that plays this game, although I do remember one person who had sent an E-mail to me about this game. Wonder where that person was right now." It seemed too much of a stretch that the person who invited him to this game was the same person here right now, didn't it? "Well as for me," he then referred to the man's second response, "I am quite a veteran in this game, although you could see me more within restaurants than within raids." Although he quite regretted that he had not fully strengthened himself before that deadly quest, maybe if he equipped higher grades of armor he would not be erecting his own memorial in this area. He laughed bitterly at his own comment as he thought about it. Although at least he had more time in his hands to taste every delicacy he could lay his hands on, it came with a price: his own life in the real world. He had a lot of unfinished business there, and his parents were maybe sad for his loss. "Mastered quite a bit of healing magic though, as well as competent enough in my swordsmanship." He then took note of the person's comment about magic, if it was real. "Well, if the magic here would be a gauge, I dare say not even the strongest healing magic could not save a person who was destined to die." He then remembered the old man that he failed to save before from the clutches of death, although it had worked in some other scenarios.

As Bradwynne continued to watch the person, he then noticed the person stare towards his direction. Did he notice something strange in his comments, that gave away that the memorial he erected was for himself? Maybe he was just overestimating things. Although he was asked on the spot on who he really was, he had a set response to it. He would not dare lie, but neither would he tell this person what actually happened except when he would be ready for it. He then replied, "Oh, I have not introduced myself to you first. The name is Bradwynne Lambert." He stated the name that would best describe himself for the moment, he still did not know if he was still Kieran Lambert or he was just a copy of his consciousness. He then moved his hand towards the other person for a handshake. "And who might you be?"

 

Manya listened to the man, and he just grew more and more numb. He took the other's hand in a firm handshake.

"Harry Riven, although here, I go by Manya Boole, the White Magician!", he laughed again, making a flourish with his hand, before shaking his head. "This is a game. There is no...no destiny. It's all scripts and batch files, a series of triggers, conditions, and directions. We're players, that's all."

He glanced at the man, questioning eyes studying him. "Or at least, I am a player. And you were a player. Your achievements...they might have been just numbers then, but I think they're more than that now. They're all you have, it seems. It..."

Manya sighed, rubbing his temple. So many thoughts were crowding his head, he could feel it ache a bit. Just how real was this game that it'd simulate even his worry, and fear?

"...it feels like a bad dream, but it's not, isn't it?"

It was a rhetoric question; he knew exactly what this was. Sighing, he decided to drop it. He looked at Kieran Lambert's memorial once more and shook his head. Undeserved, and truly terrible.

"You're done here, anyway. Where are you headed for, for I think I could accompany you for a while - I don't feel like lingering here. Call it a foolish notion but...I just don't feel right, right now."

 

Bradwynne smiled as he heard the words White Magician. So he dabbles in White Magic as well? "White Magician huh... Well I quite mastered White Magic, and I am good in my swordsmanship, so maybe that makes me a Paladin? Anyways it's nice to meet you... May I just call you Manya?" He then shook the hands of Manya. But, as he was shaking Manya's hands, he felt something weird towards him. He then studied carefully his actions as he was speaking. It was as if he knew something about those who were also had their UIs locked. Did he met other persons who were also suffering from the same thing? It could explain the amount of fear that he had right now. Of course the prospect of losing the thing that one always used to do every movement or spell that they could not do manually was debilitating, then how much more would he feel if that scenario actually meant that his persona in real life was dead and this world was all that he had?

No, now that he had an inkling of what he really was, he should say the whole truth, since, although his current mood was far less conducive to hear what he would say, at least he had an idea of what was up, and so the chances of this person doubting him would be in the minimum. In fact his mood right now was the best situation right now. Most likely he would quit this game and tell other people what he had heard, saving himself and a number of people who would be about to be playing this game. And even if he did not do so, he would be more circumspect in offering his life so that a quest would be completed. At least he might have saved a life if he would do so. And so, even if the mind of this person before him was experiencing a great amount of fear, he would tell him about the consequences of dying in this game. He then steeled himself for that moment.

Exhaling really hard, he then replied towards the words Manya said, "Yeah, now that I do not really have something to return to, maybe I had to move on from the harsh awakening... no I had really moved on from it. Even if I wanted to, there's nothing I can really do about it right now." He then caressesd the name he had inscribed on the rock. "I still have not proven anything in that world yet, I still had orchestras to attend to back there, and I had not even submitted some projects. All my association in that world ended in that day, when I was stabbed by a spire that grew from the ground. And now here I am, unable to summon my UI, and as for my body in real life, maybe it was rotting in that bed. That's the price of dying too frequently in Terrasphere: you can not return to what you used to be." As he said those words, he watched intently on Manya's reaction. Whatever he might do to him, he would accept it, he only said the whole truth regarding this matter.

 

Manya listened to his words. Piece by piece, a story revealed itself. It was a strange one, and a sobering one too.

A story of a normal person, someone full of life and vigor, who was playing a realistic and amazing game. Of course, there are games with death, it's nothing too bad, right? Restart, start over, get better. But this one time...it seems that his last death signaled a permanent shift. Until then, he was an outsider in this world, but now...the world has taken him in. Would he be alive, back there? Would he be dead? Stuck in permanent catatonia?

Would his parents enter his room and see him there, motionless and lost in a world that so many people warned against exploring? It really brought into perspective just what life and death meant. This was a game. Games end, games are limited, games do not exist without boundaries and borders...

But this one does. Oh, so realistically.

It was a terrible thought. Reality and fiction were blurring. Manya and Harry could not tell each other apart, for a split second. He was breathing hard, but he tried to calm himself. He needed to calm himself.

"I'll go there."

Iron resolution. Absolute determination.

"I'll go there, and see what happened to you, in the real world. If you can't use the UI, that just means the bridge is broken. Like in Astorea, haha!" Now he was really losing it, but even as his sense of reality and fiction were wavering, his aim was clear. Focus at the distance, not your feet.

"There might be a way to reverse it. A coma doesn't mean death. You're here, a fragment of you is here still!" Manya turned to look at Bradwynne, ignoring his question - of course, he was not particular about names and nicknames.

"I can travel the world. Find your body. There might be government agencies working on reported conditions. I can bring you to them, or them to you. As long as you're on IV and life support, you're just a very deep sleeper..."

He wanted to be a White Magician so he could feel how it felt to save people, to earn their adoration and adulation as a rescuer. But that was Manya. Right now, Harry could see his goal, a use for his hitherto pampered and sheltered life. A test. A challenge.

A quest.

He turned to look at Bradwynne once more. Searching the other's eyes for hope. Cling to hope, man! It was the only thing that was freely given, yet hard to extinguish. The last remnant of a Pandora's Box.

"Let me go there, Kieran. You're not dead yet. I won't let you die yet. You aren't dead until you see the light fading, and you haven't seen that, not out there!" As he said it, he tapped his head - the real world. Not the things around them but the world they were truly part of.

 

As he heard Manya's proposal to move towards where he was, Bradwynne widened his eyes. He sensed a firm determination beneath his unbelief towards what he said before. He then remembered again what he did before towards another person that had lost his UI. He had that same determination as this person right here, to try to unplug him from the game, which he thought was the only solution to circumvent the loss of the ability to log out. But then he had heard something did not expect: the reason that he was firm in his belief that the same happened to him. The members of the family of the person that he was about to save were grieving from the loss of that person who, maybe at the time of his recent death in the game, stopped breathing in the real world. No heart attacks, no trauma on the body, it was as if he died like an old man would: peacefully and without pain. As he rode home with that knowledge, he determined that he would try to dissuade others from playing the game or to continue playing it, while saving other people from their impending deaths in serious situations. But before he could do the former two, he heard about the report that a powerful band of goblins were about to become a threat to the safety of Astorea, and desiring to save more lives, he entered the battle...

No, he did not regret to enter that battle that costed him his life in the real world. In fact, he was happy to be given the chance to lay down his life to save more people in that battlefield, and, ultimately, more lives in the whole Astorea. The only thing he regretted was that he was loafing too much that he had poorly trained his constitution to equip higher grades of armor, which might have helped him to survive that battle.

As Bradwynne listened on to the person's words, it seemed that the person still had hope that he was just in a coma, and not death as what Bradwynne had just known before. If only that was the truth. "All right," he sighed while saying those words. Maybe there was an alternative ending to his predicament right now, and he did not know it. "If you want to know what really happened to me, I will give you my address." He then stated the address of the house he was currently living in in Philadelphia. "And one more thing, there are two more people with me that time who knew about all of this, so if you wanted to contact them, here are their numbers. In this game they are named @Hanno Futaba and @Raid ." He then gave the numbers of the two people that had been his companions in the area where they knew the truth regarding those people which had their UIs locked. "Hopefully there would really be an alternative ending to this, but do come quick. Maybe if I am really in coma there, I might die there anyway from dehydration. Mostly I am alone in that house, my parents only come home every month or two."

 

He seared the names and words into his mind. Of them, one person was familiar - he had somewhat 'met' Hanno Futaba, but not Raid. Regardless, he'd need to talk to them about this.

He could not understand why such a grave and dangerous situation was not being looked into even more carefully. But surely, there must be details about it that he's unaware of. He needed to discuss the facts with as many people as he knew.

A simple way to tell apart those with a UI from those without was to check for speech and mannerisms; people who were from the real world acted like it, speaking of things that most NPCs wouldn't know of, and behaving in a unique manner that only those who took this thing lightly could.

"As soon as circumstances permit, I'll go over there, check up on you." Of course, an inkling of caution was in him, but it was smothered aside by true and actual concern. Despite all odds, he might not succeed, but no one will tell him that it was for lack of trying.

"Hell, I think I should leave right now." Not exactly - he needed to talk to some people, and warn as many people about it as well. Between the two actions, he might have enough of a base to understand what's going on. There's also plenty of time during transit when he'd need to piece together details.

An extensive net, things that he needed to assemble and put together to even get an inkling of what's going on...and it began here and now, with a coincidental meeting.

But then, what did it mean for his future in this game? Of course, he wanted to leave, he'd rather leave one game than face death without a return...but something about Terrasphere held him back. It was like a drug, but the addiction came right from within himself. He had always lived without ever having to ask for what he had or got, but now that he finds himself in here, he could truly work for what he earned, and see what he could have been.

It was an escapist fantasy, but he did not crave it so much as to want to escape life itself!

This was an inner turmoil that he'd need to wrestle with later rather than sooner. Right now, time is of the essence, and he needed to get things done. He looked at Bradwynne, before he made to send a message and friend request to the other, and then stopped cold.

Of course. He couldn't receive it, after all. He was no longer a player of the game, but a part of it. But life still lived on, he was not...the hollow creation of some developer. He was a boy, and Harry would be damned before he let him die as one.

"I don't think I can ever easily find you, but I hope to meet you again. I'd often be in Falderen, Brisshal, Honeyhome...within one, few or all three of them. I'd not be on much, considering I'd be...well, you know, gone but I'll get on whenever I can."

He glanced in the direction of the Beginner's Cave. He had nearly died there. Nearly. But it was a harrowing experience. At this point, he'd avoid death as religiously over here as he did in real life. Taking a stupid risk was not worth it.

"So...see you around?"

It lacked enthusiasm, but it had fire, and power behind it. Small and childish he may be, but at times he can be one stubborn bastard.

 

Bradwynne was surprised that after all the things he said to this person, after all the warnings that he had stated, and after all the danger that would befall him once he died a number of times, and even when there were already a number of victims, he himself included; as he had stated that he would meet with him again, it meant that this person right before him still intended to play this game. But at the very least he had been informed about the danger of dying too frequently, and could do something to avoid dying in this game, more so dying a number of times.

"See you around... too..." Bradwynne only muttered in response to Manya's words. Hopefully what he had said last time made a huge imprint on the white magician's psyche; he did not really want anyone else to suffer the same fate as him and the others. As for him, he would use this time, this new life, to informing others about the danger of this game, and if they still do not listen, he would still try to preserve their life as much as he could. Although this time he had been revived, he would not know if it would be his last revival in this world, although he knew someone who had the same predicament as him died at one point, but as she became his companion in a subsequent quest, he knew that she had revived. But still, an extra revive might be all that he got left, and so he would not try to take a proactive role unless it would be needed to save another person or to finish a quest. Maybe he would definitely need to polish up his skills so that the chances of death happening to him would be slim. Maybe he would try to hunt for monsters that he knew he could substantially defeat without any risk of extraordinary factors that could lead to his death. Maybe he would also establish a school for the martial arts and magic techniques so that it would lessen the chances of those that he would teach dying in this world...

Wait, if he would do that, maybe he should start with Manya right here. The man dabbled in white magic, and white magic was a mastery that he had thoroughly mastered at the moment. If he ever decided to stay here, maybe he could impart what he knew to this person, so that his chances of survival, as well as the chances of survival of those around him, would be greater. Yeah... he should do that.

"Wait a second..." he then said to the person before him. "If you really decided to continue to play this game after all the things that you will encounter from this point onward, then let me help you survive this game, make sure that you will never die. You dabble in White Magic right? I happen to be one of the few people who had a very high mastery of White Magic in Terrasphere. I would try to teach people around this area where there is a good number of new players, so if you continue this game, just drop by in Honeyhome Village and I would teach you all that I can."

 

Manya considered that offer. Yes...White Magic did help in not dying, at least. As long as someone didn't die here, they were alright, right?

Extraneous circumstances might cause mortality, but then, the same could be said for everyday life. His decision to not leave Terrasphere was something that bordered between momentously stupid and overly cocky, but he stuck by it. As for tutelage...

That'd come later, much later and after finding Kieran's body. But yes, until a solution was found, he'd be here, they'd both be here. Why not learn from someone who's far more experienced, after all?

"I accept. I do need skilled teachers, and White Magic has always been my forte.", he noted, nodding his head. "Thank you for the offer. It really does mean a lot...to me." He turned around to leave, walking away.

"You might think I'm naive, or foolish, taking a single incident like this at face value. But life and death are not something to be toyed with. And there will never come a time where someone will look at me and say, 'There's Harry Riven, he stood by and watched as he saw things in motion, wont to try and change it.' That will never happen, not from me."

He turned away, his coat stirring in the breeze as he strode away from the clearing. In his UI map, he marked out the location - it now holds a greater significance for him, as well as for Bradwynne. As he walked away from the place, to find someplace safe to drop off at and log off in, he began thinking, thoughts running at a hundred miles a minute. "I'll see you later, then, Bradwynne. Sit tight, the cavalry's comin'."

 

As Bradwynne heard Manya's affirmation, he sighed in relief. At least he could help one person to survive in this game that was verging to real life; and as for him, was his only reality maybe for a moment or maybe for his whole life. The feeling of saving another life was always a welcome one for him, and although he did not really want this life of being stuck to this game for a very long time, maybe forever, that fear did not outweigh his drive for others not to suffer the same fate as him. He would never care if he was the one who needed to die, as long as others around him would not be dead.

And so, offering a final wave to Manya, he then decided on his next task. As he had said to Manya before, he would try to teach others what they should know about fighting and magic in the place where all the new players converge: Honeyhome Village. As he was waving his hand towards Manya, the rain stopped, which quite surprised him, and the sun peeked from the clouds and a ray shone on the clearing, centering on the memorial he made.

Removing the hood on his body, Bradwynne then wrung it on his front, quite an amount of water dripped from it as he wrung. He then placed the hood within the cart, and then he muttered to himself, "Looks like I would have to hire a whole laundromat to wash these... wait there are no laundromats in this blasted place. Looks like I had to wash these myself." He then pushed the cart away from the clearing, and then towards the river where he always washed his clothes. Hopefully there should be few monsters there as he would have to focus on his laundry and he had really no time to fight them in that time.

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