In the movies, people cried when they killed for the first time. Or they screamed, shouted, something. I didn’t feel any of that. I felt... numb. His face was frozen in a look of surprise, one side slick with blood from where the branch had punctured him.
I hadn’t planned to kill him.
The branch was supposed to knock him out—or pin him down, at worst. Not this. It hadn’t even fully detached from his chest, the bark still lodged in the wound as though it had grown roots there.
I crouched beside the body, instinctively reaching out to close his eyes. His skin was still warm, the faint heat of life lingering for a moment longer. As my fingers brushed his eyelids, a window appeared in my vision, accompanied by the now-hated buzz.
Lootable container: Corpse.
- Loot all
I froze, staring at the screen as a sick, bubbling anger churned in my chest. This place wasn’t natural. Someone—or something—wanted us to kill. They wanted us to stop seeing each other as people, to turn this into a macabre game of survival. Kill. Loot. Repeat.
The words flashed unbidden in my mind, an echo of a slogan from one of the many MMOs I’d played as a kid. It made my skin crawl.
I glared at the interface, my fists clenching as the anger coursed through me. But curiosity—or maybe something darker—won out. I pressed Inspect.
Oliver’s inventory appeared. It was pitifully scarce. His knives lay in the grass nearby, military issue—simple, efficient, and instantly recognizable. My dad had carried the same kind, gifting me a pair for my 18th birthday, along with a camping set now gathering dust in my closet.
Something else caught my eye: a glowing item labelled "Bandit Token."
I hesitated. The item pulsed faintly in the corner of the interface, a stark reminder of what Oliver had become—or what he’d been marked as. With a sigh, I selected it, and the token vanished into my personal storage. Then, standing stiffly, I turned and walked away.
The walk back to the settlement was silent. Sharla and Milli moved ahead, walking side by side, while I trailed behind. None of us spoke.
When we passed through the gate, a soft buzz accompanied the notification that our quest had been completed. The Crowns were distributed to me as the guild leader, but I didn’t see a single one. They went straight to the guild treasury, a hollow victory against the mountain of debt we still owed.
Sharla and Milli headed to the community board near the gates, a chaotic tangle of parchments fluttering in the breeze. Each one offered a different quest, their details glowing faintly as my interface translated them into condensed tooltips. I approached, standing beside them as I scanned the board.
One quest caught my eye.
Wanted:
Bandit Tokens
Reward:
1000 Crowns per token
A chill ran through me. The token in my inventory felt heavier, more sinister. I hesitated, glancing sideways at Sharla and Milli, who were still absorbed in the board. My chest tightened as guilt crept in. I couldn’t tell them—not yet.
I surreptitiously accepted the quest. A faint buzz confirmed its addition to my log as a persistent quest. If I had to kill again, at least I’d be rewarded for it. That grim thought settled over me like a lead blanket.
A message popped up in the group chat
Bzzz Bzzz Bzzz
Sharla:
We’ve got another quest. I want to get it done before it gets too late.
I accepted the quest invitation without protest. Sharla didn’t look at me, her attention fixed on the board. The quest details appeared in my interface:
New Quest!
Herb Gathering
Gather as many patches of ‘Moonshade’ as you can. More herbs mean more Crowns!
Reward:
100 Crowns per bushel
The reward structure was straightforward: Crowns for every clump of herbs collected. The gathering area was close enough to town that the settlement’s spiked walls would remain visible.
We spent the rest of the day quietly combing the area, calling out when we found a patch or offering terse thanks when someone handed over a stray handful. The silence wasn’t oppressive; it was necessary. We were all processing in our own way.
Milli approached me at one point, twigs and leaves clinging to her hair. Her voice was soft, hesitant.
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“I’ve been thinking about it... what happened with Oliver.”
I tensed, bracing for condemnation.
“I don’t blame you,” she continued. “I don’t think you meant to kill him.”
I looked at her, searching for anger or resentment, but found only sincerity.
“Thank you,” I said, my voice quieter than I intended. She gave me a small smile before returning to Sharla, who was crouched near a dense patch of herbs.
That evening at the Pit, Milli invited Sharla and me to what she called our "guild headquarters." Sharla and I exchanged a confused look but followed her upstairs. She led us to a room near the end of the hall, pulling a small key from her inventory to unlock the door. When she swung it open, the interior was nothing like we’d expected.
The space before us was a modern, spacious apartment with large windows overlooking the forest. An L-shaped sectional couch surrounded a sleek glass coffee table in the living area. On one wall, there were doors with each of our names etched into plaques. Opposite them, a fully equipped kitchen gleamed with polished appliances: a refrigerator, cupboards, a stove, and even a coffee machine. The white-tiled floor and soft blue walls gave the place a clean, airy feel, while potted plants were arranged tastefully around the room.
Sharla and I both gasped as we stepped inside, marvelling at the sudden shift from medieval tavern to inner-city luxury.
“What the hell, Milli?” I said, awestruck by the small slice of Earth-like comfort before me.
“Oh, this?” she said with a modest wave of her hand. “This is nothing. When I joined the guild, my room automatically became the guild location. That unlocked a bunch of customization options in my interface. I stayed up most of last night setting everything up.” She busied herself preparing cups of tea for us, moving about the kitchen as though it was second nature.
“Is this why we owe so much money?!” I shouted, fury rising at the thought that our crushing debt might be the result of her lavish decorating spree.
Milli calmly turned to face me, her expression unruffled. “No,” she said evenly. “And I’d appreciate it if you didn’t raise your voice. You’re going to scare Louis.” She slid a steaming cup of tea across the counter to me.
“It's spelt with a silent ‘s’, by the way,” she added matter-of-factly, before taking a serene sip from her own cup. "He is very particular about it"
I blinked. “Who is Louis?” I asked, cradling the warm cup in my hands as I tried to keep my frustration in check.
“Oh, I’m sure he’s around here somewhere. You’ll meet him soon enough,” Milli replied, waving off the question. “Word of warning, though—don’t let his looks fool you. He’s quite knowledgeable.”
I stared at her, dumbfounded. “Okay, fine. But let’s circle back to how you paid for all this. It can’t have been cheap.”
Milli popped a biscuit into her mouth and chewed thoughtfully. “Most of it I got before I even joined the guild,” she said, retrieving a small tray of biscuits from her inventory and placing it on the counter. “We had a quest to hunt down this ogre thing. I got the last hit in, and it dropped a really pretty jewel and a pile of Crowns, so I took them.”
She paused to dip another biscuit into her tea, her voice casual, as if this were the most normal thing in the world. “Turns out, they were pretty valuable, and they belonged to me. My party didn’t see it that way. They thought the loot should be split evenly. Things got... tense. That’s when I left and joined you two.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Wait, you got the last hit in?”
“Well, yes,” she said with a small shrug, as though she were explaining a basic fact of life. “I kicked the ogre after it fell over. I thought, technically, that made me the one who finished it off. And the system agreed.”
Milli went on to explain how the jewel and Crowns she’d looted were enough to buy this deluxe room, which had unlocked the ability to customize the space. As the guild’s headquarters, she’d been able to add extra rooms for us at 1,000 Crowns each. Personal upgrades for our rooms would have to come out of our own pockets, but the common areas were free for guild members to use.
I sighed and walked over to the couch, flopping onto the free seat. Sharla was already sprawled out on the sectional, one arm draped over her eyes. The noise of the tavern outside was completely muffled, leaving the apartment in an almost eerie silence. For the first time in days, it felt like we were back on Earth—until my interface, ever-present in my vision, reminded me otherwise.
After finishing my tea, I retreated to the room marked with my name. The door swung open to reveal a small, cozy space with a single bed, a modest wardrobe, and an ensuite shower. The setting sun cast a warm glow across the tiled floor, but all I could think about was sleep.
I hadn’t had a proper wash since arriving here. The nuns had cleaned me up while I was unconscious in the hospital, but since then, the layers of gore and grime had only accumulated. Stripping off my clothes, I stepped into the shower and let the hot water run over me. It was the first time I’d felt clean in days, and the sensation was almost overwhelming.
When I emerged, my clothes had somehow cleaned themselves. I ran my fingers over the fabric, marvelling at the magic that must have done it. Dressed in my track pants, I climbed into bed and closed my eyes, letting exhaustion take over.
EEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!
The sound jolted me awake, and I shot out of bed, crouching behind it instinctively. Adrenaline surged through me as my mind scrambled to process the noise. Deciding it was better to investigate than hide, I bolted into the common area.
“Oh my God, you are so cute!” Sharla squealed. Her voice reverberated through the room, filled with an uncharacteristic level of delight.
It took me a moment to register what was happening. Sharla was sitting on the couch with her back to me, something small perched on her lap. She was bouncing slightly, overcome with excitement.
“Yes, quite,” came an articulate and authoritative voice. It had an odd blend of accents—vaguely European, with hints of French, British, and possibly even Slavic influences. “But I must request that you keep it to a dull roar, if you could restrain yourself.”
I froze, scanning the room. Who had spoken? The voice didn’t seem to match anyone I knew.
“And you can talk?! MILLI! I didn’t know you owned a talking dog!” Sharla shrieked, entirely ignoring the request for restraint.
The speaker made a small groan, followed by a muffled snuff of disapproval. I edged closer to see what was going on, my curiosity overriding any lingering caution. As I rounded the couch, the speaker came into view—a small, white, fluffy dog. Its fur was so thick it resembled wool, obscuring most of its face, save for the glints of onyx eyes beneath. Its floppy ears twitched as it licked its mouth, then hopped off Sharla’s lap with surprising grace. It perched on the couch’s headrest, standing with an air of dignity that was entirely at odds with its diminutive size.
“Good evening,” the dog said in that same refined tone, bowing its head slightly. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. My name is Louis, and, from my understanding, you are the founder and leader of this guild. I have been assigned to this post by the system, due to your apparent lack of qualified personnel.”
The dog extended a paw toward me.
Unsure of how to respond, I reached out and shook it. Its paw was small but surprisingly firm. “Uh, nice to meet you, Louis,” I said, trying not to sound utterly bewildered.
“Charmed, I’m sure,” Louis replied, smoothly retracting his paw. “And how may I address you?”
“Ryan,” I said, still staring at the dog as if he might disappear at any moment. “My name is Ryan.”
“Delightful.” Louis gave a curt nod. “I must apologise for disturbing your friend. I keep rather odd hours at the moment, and until I resolve certain affairs with my previous retainer, I shall be coming and going as needed. I was on my way out when this”—he gestured toward Sharla with a flick of his paw—“giantess accosted me. Now, I bid you adieu.”
With that, the dog hopped down from the headrest and trotted over to the door. For the first time, I noticed a small dog flap installed near its base. Louis approached it with the same regal air, did a dainty hop through the opening, and disappeared into the night without another word.
Sharla sat frozen, her expression one of pure wonder. She stared after him until the flap stopped swinging, then turned to face me.
“Do you think we can get him little outfits?” she asked, her eyes wide with excitement. “I hope he wouldn’t mind. Do you think Milli has any food for him?”
“Uh…” was all I managed before Sharla was on her feet, sprinting toward Milli’s door. She began banging on it with unrestrained enthusiasm, yelling something about kibble and sweaters.
I decided I’d had enough insanity for one night. Shaking my head, I turned on my heel and went back to bed, hoping that the next day might somehow be less chaotic.