Chapter 3 | Resolve and Conviction

  Sapling's Rest. Yggdrasil's Cradle. Alfheim. YGGDRASIL. 2128.

  The world dissolved into a blinding and featureless white. For a disorienting second, Lanyue— no, ManMan Lai— felt a sensation of weightless falling, a ghost of a memory from a different life. Then, her soles found purchase on solid ground. The light bled away, revealing a cityscape of impossible elegance while a translucent tooltip appeared on the bottom left of her vision, right above what appeared to be a chatbox.

  [You are now entering: Sapling's Rest, Yggdrasil's Cradle.]

  [You have arrived at Yggdrasil's Cradle, The Root-City of Yggdrasil, Capital City of Alfheim, Home of the Elves. A safe zone under the boughs of Yggdrasil.]

  Another, more ominous crimson-bordered message followed:

  [Warning: The wilds of Alfheim grow perilous the further one ventures from the city centre. Proceed with caution.]

  Or don't, she thought with a dryness that felt unfamiliar even to her. It's not like a virtual monster can do worse than what's already happened.

  Standing before her was the sight of a pristine white, silver, and pearlescent city shimmering in hues of verdant green and other colours of life. Canopies of leaves larger than buildings gave shade to the tall, graceful spires that dotted her immediate perception as she resolved the silhouette of a humongous tree trunk so immense it seemed to hold up the very sky. She was now truly in YGGDRASIL.

  Her first waking moments of clarity was one of slight awkwardness. The ground was farther away than it should be. She flexed her fingers— long, slender, and pale, utterly alien. A tentative shift of weight onto her right leg sent a jolt of unfamiliar sensation up her spine. Not pain. Not weakness. Just… support. She took a step. The motion was unsteady, a fawn finding its legs, but her foot planted firmly. It was a sensation she had not felt in weeks: the simple, unthinking act of standing.

  She began a walk, admiring the architecture as she came to a stop in front of an impossibly clear window. Her reflection was there, translucent, faint, but contained within was definitely not who she used to be— a stranger with pointed ears and eyes the colour of rhodolite garnets. It was the high elf she had just painstakingly handcrafted moments earlier, and there was one big problem.

  Her avatar was clad in what could only be described as the digital equivalent of burlap sack-chic. A simple tunic and pants in drab, earthly tones, adorned with what she suspected were supposed to be "light green trims" but looked more like mould. The pants ended in a scandalously crude hem just below her knees, and her feet were shamefully encased in what appeared to be woven straw sandals.

  This is a crime against aesthetics, she thought as a flicker of annoyed indignation sparked to life within. I look like a peasant who got lost on the way to some elven ren faire!

  Her hands fluttered in a panic, swiping furiously at the air in a desperate search for a menu, an option, anything that would let her purge this sartorial nightmare. The frantic gestures drew the attention of a nearby group of... beings. Humanoid, but with distinctly bovine features: droopy ears, hybridised muzzles, and swishing tails. They were a motley crew, clad in an assortment of plate armour and cloth robes that, while simple and functional, were at least complete outfits.

  The group ambled over, their leader— a cow demihuman clad in a surprisingly well-tailored light-yellow maid outfit with plated skirts— waved a hand. A cheerful ^_^ emoji materialised in the air above her head. Her companions followed suit with a flurry of (^_^)/ waves and thumbs-up emojis popped into existence around them. Interestingly, ManMan noted their own faces were frozen in unchanging expressions.

  "Yo~! New player, right?" The Cow Demihuman who appeared to be their leader voiced out gently. Her tone was gentle and clear, notably devoid of any stereotypical moos. "Damn, that's a beautiful elf you've made! Don't think I've ever seen one in the beauty album that looks as good as yours. Holy."

  Her companions offered synchronised nods, their approval communicated entirely through a storm of clapping hands and floating ?? symbols.

  ManMan found the She-Cow and her companions' appraisal gratifying, although also slightly apprehensive. Their frozen, placid bovine-human faces were a stark contrast to the cheerful emoticons dancing above them, creating an uncanny valley effect that was equal parts charming and unsettling.

  "Anyway, welcome to YGGDRASIL! I'm MilkyMoo Maid," The Cow-Maid gave a wave before gesturing to her herd behind her. "These are my pals, BovineBuddy, HeiferHelper, UdderlyLost and CuriousCudChewer. We're from the clan Cerulean Cattle Company."

  Cerulean Cattle Company, ManMan repeated internally, trying to hold in a giggle. Of course, why wouldn't it be?

  MilkyMoo gave a metaphorical wink through a ;-) emoji as she struck a tomboyish yet cutesy pose. "Say, are you trying to find a function? I noticed you waving your arms in a flurry. Looked like you were trying to launch an attack or swat a very determined fly."

  "H- Hi, I'm ManMan Lai," ManMan suddenly felt herself a little shy, her voice softer than she intended. "Uh, yeah, I was trying to access my… wardrobe? This starter outfit is… uhm, I don't really like it." She gestured vaguely at her tunic, the word 'atrocious' burning on the tip of her tongue but remaining unsaid.

  "Ahhh~ I see," MilkyMoo nodded, her bell giving a soft jingle. "Classic new player panic. Here's the trick! Your movements were too exaggerated. The gesture recognition is pretty sensitive. You just need a simple, deliberate downwards wave, like you're brushing a crumb off a table. The game engine should recognise it and will open the menu from there. Alternatively, you can just call it out if you're unfamiliar with the system. 'Menu!' usually works."

  ManMan took a calming breath and made a controlled, downward-sweeping motion with her hand. A semi-transparent, intricately designed interface flickered to life before her, hovering in the air.

  "If it's an outfit… it'd be in your inventory, by default in the outfits tab," MilkyMoo instructed, peering around the edge of the interface. "Let's see… ah, touch that little 'eye' icon on the top right so I can see your interface."

  ManMan complied, and the menu became visible to the cow maid. MilkyMoo's emoji shifted to a wide-eyed O_O. "Whoa. Okay. That's… that's a lot of dresses." Her emoji then morphed into a sympathetic (′?ω?)` as she delivered the bad news.

  "Oof. Yeah, see those little red padlock icons next to everything? It seems you don't have the level requirement to wear those. These are all premium shop outfits, so they're Relic-tier. You've gotta be level twenty before you can put them on. The game's gotta make you earn your glamour, you know?"

  "Ahh…" ManMan was a little disappointed.

  Why hadn't the store page mention any of this? she thought, the familiar feeling of a hidden fee or a restrictive terms-of-service agreement bubbling up. It just said 'purchase to add to your collection.' What false advertising!

  "I see!" she said aloud, forcing a brightness into her voice that she didn't quite feel.

  A member of the Cerulean Cattle Company introducing himself as BovineBuddy ambled forward. "Don't sweat it! You can go for some of the beginner-outfits. I think there was a bundle on discount this week. Lemme see…" He guided her through the menu to a section labeled "Starter Packs & Bundles."

  ManMan's eyes scanned the options. These ones were more functional. One bundle, however, caught her eye. It featured a white chemise with red trim and light frills, paired with magenta-brown leggings and a pair of practical, calf-high leather boots. Its description was painfully earnest: "The classic adventurer's garb: a simple linen tunic (race-specific), sturdy leather hosen, and a pair of well-worn ankle boots. Suited for a Humanoid Beginner's first adventures."

  A big "BONUS SUN HAT! SHIELD YOURSELF FROM UNWANTED GLARE!" was also plastered next to it.

  Well, it's not anything amazing, but it's also a significant upgrade from 'indentured servant,' she reasoned. With a mental shrug, she tapped the purchase button. A satisfying chime echoed softly, and the outfit icon greyed out, now marked as "Owned."

  "I see you are already subscribed, good choice! It saves a lot of time if you decide to stay in the game," BovineBuddy noted approvingly. "I also suggest—"

  "Never mind that!" MilkyMoo interrupted, her avatar leaning forward with an energy that her placid bovine face couldn't convey. A (??ヮ?)?*:??? sparkle emoji flashed above her head. "Do you want to join our clan? Joining one gives bonuses to EXP and data crystal drops! We're always looking for new herd members!"

  The offer was friendly but it triggered a sudden, cold jolt in ManMan's stomach. Clan. Friends. That reminded her— she was supposed to send a friend request to her brother Masayoshi, or as he was called in this world, Touch Me. Her eyes darted to a small clock display in the corner of her UI. A wave of panic washed over her as she saw that almost two hours had slipped by since she logged in. She was supposed to be meeting his friends too!

  Oh no… she thought, a familiar knot of social etiquette and anxiety tightening in her chest. I hope they aren't angry. Or think I'm dodging them on purpose!

  "Ahh, I appreciate your offer," ManMan said, her voice a little rushed as she took a half-step back. "Really, it's very kind! But I don't have any plans yet. I'm actually supposed to look for a friend… and I'm already running late." She said, offering an apology to the Cow-Maid and her herd.

  "Ah… That's understandable!" MilkyMoo replied, her tone still cheerful. A slightly deflated (￣ω￣) emoji replaced the sparkles, but she was fortunately not dejected. "New players have enough to figure out without getting roped into a clan or guild right away. If it's friends you are trying to add, you first need to complete the beginner quest. I believe it was the first one? Look for a golden symbol to your left in your UI, or on your minimap at the bottom right. There'd be a path leading you there! Anyway, I hope you have fun! Maybe we'll see you around Alfheim!"

  With a final wave and a chorus of (^_^)/ from her herd, the Cerulean Cattle Company moo-ved on, leaving ManMan alone with her thoughts and a newly purchased, yet-to-be-opened outfit set.

  ManMan offered a quick, silent thanks to their retreating figures before hurrying towards a male elf NPC clad in official-looking attire, a golden ! shimmering above his head. As she moved, she glanced around and realised that despite this being the elven capital, the streets were a melting pot of races— humans, dwarves, and various demihumans mingled with the pointy-eared natives, all going about their virtual business. A few quick interactions with the quest-giver later, a soft chime confirmed the social menu was now unlocked.

  She briefly entertained the idea of changing into her new adventurer's outfit, but the thought of fumbling through another menu and causing even more delay made her dismiss it.

  Later, she decided, fashion can wait. Crisis management cannot. With a few swift gestures, she navigated to the friend list and sent a request to Touch Me.

  A pleasant Ping! sounded out as a [Message] notification appeared. She gestured for it and her brother's familiar voice filled her ears.

  "Oh! There you are, sister! We were beginning to think you may have gotten kidnapped by a NPC or something!" A soft chuckle followed. "Here, I'm sending you a ping. Come to the main entrance located here. It's a bit inconvenient for the others to go to Alfheim, so I'll come get you myself."

  Another notification chimed, and ManMan's minimap was updated with a new ping and a glowing, dotted line tracing a path through the city's gleaming streets.

  "Okay! I'll wait for you there, brother!" she replied, following the guiding light on her map as she made her way towards the meeting point.

  ———

  Nine's Own Goal. Rented Guildhall. YGGDRASIL. 2128.

  Momonga did not know what to expect of Touch Me's sister, ManMan Lai, but the High Elf that arrived had certainly taken his breath away.

  The first thing that stood out to him was the masterpiece that was her elf's handcrafted proportions. His vocabulary when it came to describing aesthetics was not the most comprehensive, but even he could tell that the form before him was crafted with a master's touch and a taste of unbelievable refinement. It was the kind of perfection that screamed of meticulous slider-adjustment, the sort achieved not just by a good eye, but by someone willing to spend an inordinate amount of time— or money— on the character creator.

  She was tall and willowy, yet also possessed an otherworldly grace that seemed to defy the game's standard animations. Her body ratios were unlike any elf he had encountered, accentuated by a wealth of exclusive customisation options that immediately signalled to Momonga that this creation was one made with extensive, and perhaps even excessive, paid enhancements. A faint pang of regret stirred within him; such a clear investment in premium features meant she would almost certainly not be joining his cherished No-Cash-Item-Alliance.

  Even clad in the simple beginner's tunic— a readily apparent contrast to her obviously high-end elven features— she carried herself with a graceful poise. Every subtle shift in her balance exuded a quiet confidence. Her hair was a cascade of silken white-beige that fell like heavy, perfectly rendered waves of curtains covering her lower back.

  Yet, for all her serene poise, her first words were a soft, genuinely apologetic murmur about losing track of time. Her movements, while fluid, held a careful deliberation, as if conserving a hidden reserve of strength. The regal authority of her sharply arched brows, aquiline nose, and delicate chin was undeniable, but within the luminous crimson of her irises— a truly mesmerising pair of eyes that likely cost a pretty penny (or a small fortune, he was not sure)— he caught what he thought to be a faint, haunting depth, a shadow that seemed out of place on such a flawlessly crafted face.

  This, he believed, was no flaw in her design. ManMan Lai had deliberately chosen to weave in this faint whisper of sorrow that her elegant and almost carefree grace cannot entirely conceal, like a flaw in a perfect marble only the sculptor herself knew. Whether this was deliberate was beyond what he could derive from his observations.

  Her apology, combined with that glimpse of vulnerability beneath the celestial beauty, made the wait feel insignificant. Momonga felt a surge of admiration not just for the artistic skill, but also for the person behind the avatar.

  "Don't worry about it, ManMan Lai-san," he replied, raising his skeletal hands in a placating gesture as a friendly (′▽\*)` emoji materialised above his head. "We weren't in a rush anyway, and we did manage to get some loot while waiting. The RNG was surprisingly kind for once."

  "Still, I should have minded the time," the elf was still bowing slightly in apology. "I got… a little lost in the customisation store." Her tone carried the faint, sheepish embarrassment of someone who had accidentally shopped for far longer than intended.

  BubblingTeapot cheerfully jiggled forward in her slime form, a bright (●'?'●) appearing over her translucent body. "Yeah! No worries, ManMan Lai-san! Your avatar turned out so pretty, it was worth the wait! Actually," she bubbled, her voice taking on a playful and more conspiratorial tone, "can I call you ManMan-chan? It sounds cuter!"

  ManMan the High Elf seemed to pause, her avatar tilting its head a fraction in a universally recognised gesture of slight surprise, before she nodded demurely. "That… would be fine."

  BubblingTeapot was ecstatic, a shower of ☆*: .?. o(≧▽≦)o .?.:*☆ sparkles erupting around her. She immediately extended two pseudopods, gently attempting to envelop ManMan's slender elven hands with her own gelatinous, shimmering counterparts in a slightly unsettling, yet oddly earnest, handshake.

  "Woah, you are so squishy… BubblingTeapot-san." ManMan's surprise was soon replaced by curiosity as she began enthusiastically squishing BubblingTeapot's tentacles. "It feels strangely nice! It feels like a vague sensation, something like a stress ball filled with warm honey."

  The Onee-slime, delighted by her positive reaction, jiggled happily, her entire form wobbling. ( ′ ? \)ノ～ ?` "Right?! Also, just call me Teapot, and no -sans! Call me Teapot-chan, and I'll call you ManMan-chan!"

  BubblingTeapot was now trying to achieve symbiosis with the new arrival, her slime body subtly pulsing. "Go on! It's the best! Poke me! Even though touch is slightly muffled in YGGDRASIL, some motions still go through!"

  ManMan reached out and gently poked one of her gelatinous appendages. The slime jiggled satisfyingly as a light and musical laugh escaped the elf. "It feels so strangely ambiguous! But wonderful!"

  Momonga watched as the two female players engaged in their unique form of elf-slime diplomacy, a sight that was both bizarre and heartwarming. It was then that a familiar, lecherous aura prickled at the edge of his perception. A figure clad in avian armour had approached. An exaggerated sweatdrop (-_-') soon appeared above Momonga's head.

  Maybe it would be best if Peroroncino-san kept quiet here, Momonga thought, a sense of impending doom settling in his non-existent stomach. Having ManMan-san discover his… extensive and specific H-fetishes within the first five minutes of meeting him would make for a terrible impression.

  But the Birb apparently had his own ideas.

  "Hey, hey! If you two are getting some hands-on skinship, you should invite me in too! I'm a tactile learner!" he called out, his voice dripping with a leer that was perhaps a touch too audible.

  Almost immediately, Momonga noticed BubblingTeapot's demeanour shift a total 180 as her bright amber form seemed to harden, her jiggles turning into a menacing tremble. A (╬ ò﹏ó) emoji flashed angrily above her as she launched an angry tentacle-smack at Peroroncino. "Shut up, dumbass brother!"

  She turned to ManMan, her form softening slightly as she pointed an accusatory finger— or rather, a wobbly digit— at Peroroncino. "ManMan-chan, listen carefully. Stay away from that birdbrain, okay? He's got an incurable mental illness called the Hent—"

  "WOAH, TIMEOUT!" Peroroncino rushed forward his avian avatar flapping its wings in a panic as he tried to physically muffle his sister's slimy form, a desperate (；￣Д￣) plastered over his head.

  Bukubukuchagama~! Momonga squealed in his heart, silently mourning his bird-friend's already-vaporised dignity. There was no recovering from this.

  "Uwah…" ManMan's reply was a soft, measure exhale, tinged with the kind of understanding sympathy one usually reserved for terminally ill patients and hopeless cases of degeneracy. The brief, awkward silence was later punctuated by the sound of Peroroncino being pummelled by a very angry and gelatinous elder sister.

  "Ah ahem," Momonga interjected, ignoring the latest episode of "the Onee-slime vs the Ototori" playing in the background. He gave a slight, formal bow of his skeletal head.

  "Anyway, welcome to YGGDRASIL, Touch Me's sister, ManMan-san! It's a pleasure to finally have you with us."

  A number of Nine's Own Goal clan members who had been spectating the chaos joined in the welcome, their avatars offering waves and cheerful greetings (＾▽＾)? (^_^)/~. A wave of small talk and introductions filled the rented guildhall, the earlier tension dissolving into the familiar, comfortable cacophony of a group of friends. Momonga noticed with a slight chuckle that Touch Me was standing beside his sister, his armoured avatar radiating an unmistakable and almost comical sense of pride.

  "Now, let's get going," A recently logged-in Tabula Smaragdina joined in the conversation. "We were supposed to show Touch Me's sister around the game, no? Let's go get her some early levels. It should be a quick process anyway, given she's got a full party of high-level carries. And from her customisations I'd wager she's subbed too, so it should be even faster."

  A chorus of agreement rose from the group. The sight of everyone who was available rallying for a simple newbie levelling session brought a genuine, if unseen, smile to Momonga's face.

  It seemed that ManMan's arrival had completely erased the gloomy pall that had been plaguing the clan for the past week. This was more like their usual selves, Momonga noted with equal parts satisfaction and relief. The clan felt whole again.

  ———

  Helheim. YGGDRASIL. 2128.

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  ManMan was positively surprised at how… lively her brother's friends were. They were all what the game termed 'Heteromorphs'— creatures far removed from the humanoid forms she was accustomed to— yet her first impressions suggested they were, against all the initial misgivings she had in the character creator, genuinely pleasant people. It was a fascinating social experiment, interacting with sentient slimes, skeletons, bird-men and other abominations as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

  Not all of the Nine's Own Goal members were available, but those present had left a deep impression. She was quickly learning that a player's character and their race was often the least interesting thing about them.

  First was BubblingTeapot, a player who was literally a bouncy, translucent blob of amber-hued slime. She moved with a gelatinous grace, forming and re-forming pseudopods (or tentacles?) that served as limbs, and her cheerful, bubbly personality was a delight. When ManMan squished those slimy 'hands,' the sensation was a vague but distinct cool softness, a texture that reminded her eerily of the custom-designed stressballs issued to her Olympic team for fine motor control.

  It was strangely therapeutic. She would have loved to conduct a more thorough tactile analysis— perhaps even draft a preliminary study on the viscoelastic properties and surface tension of a virtualised slime-form for potential applications in advanced haptic feedback and stress-relief technology for athletes— if not for her brother's swift, whispered warning that the game's Terms of Service had strict, albeit nebulous rules against 'excessive avatar intimacy' that could result in an account suspension.

  A pity; it seems the governing bodies had once again prioritised stifling regulations over tangible progress. Their loss. Her Olympic teammates could have benefited from the findings.

  In any case, BubblingTeapot's little brother was next. Despite his… frivolous proclivities, he did not seem like a malicious person. Just perhaps, a little lax in his decorum and spectacularly lacking in upper grey matter, making the bird-brain nickname his sister had assigned a fitting moniker. His entire demeanour, from the garish white-and-gold plumage of his avatar to his constant, slightly frantic energy, had reminded ManMan of a very talkative, perpetually horny Ringneck Parakeet her father had once kept. The bird had also spent an inordinate amount of time trying to hump its favourite toy. Some correlations simply cannot be ignored…

  After the lustful bird came the demon goat, Ulbert Alain Odle, who for some reason, had been stroking that goat-tee of his the moment she arrived. Even now, she could still see his right hand (or was it hoof?) still continuing the motions. She did, however, approve of his naming sense; 'Ulbert Alain Odle' had a certain dramatic and melodic rhythm when spoken aloud that suited a warlock. His edgy black and red colour coordination was also a logically sound choice for a demonic motif. It felt aesthetically cohesive and spoke of the effort he had spent, although it was perhaps a bit on the nose.

  Touch Me had warned her that Ulbert may be a little difficult to get along with, being prone to cynicism and a theatrical villainous persona. However, it did not seemed there would be an issue for now.

  Tabula Smaragdina belonged to a race called a 'Brain Eater.' To ManMan's eyes, however, he looked less like a psychic predator and more like a bipedal squid that had developed a fond liking for high-end latex and intricate bondage gear. It was certainly a statement piece, one she chose not to interrogate too deeply but could certainly appreciate the elements and designs used.

  Warrior Takemikazuchi's aesthetic was the most straightforward. He was a samurai, pure and simple. His warrior presence was so pronounced that a small, mischievous part of her wanted to copy her her friends on the fencing team and snap into a stance, shouting 'En Garde!' just to see if she would trigger an automatic response from the samurai. Regardless, she had to admit his tastefully coloured armour was visually appealing in its functional elegance.

  Lastly, there was the Undead caster, Momonga. Surprisingly, he seemed the most normal of the bunch, acting as the calm, organising centre of the clan's chaos. As someone who appreciated meticulous preparation, ManMan could respect that. She also noted the careful artistry of his avatar: the polished lustre of his bones and the way the captivating crimson orbs in his eye sockets perfectly complemented a palette of black, silver-white, and deep purple. It felt restrained but had both charisma and chic.

  Her brother's merry band of friends had brought her to a world they called 'Helheim' which when explained, was essentially YGGDRASIL's version of an eternal hell. ManMan had simply nodded in agreement. It looked like a place that had never known colours other than shades of black, grey, and despairing brown.

  "Say, ManMan-chan, what class did you pick?" Bubbling Teapot curiously asked as they slowly strolled to their destination.

  "I picked Astrologian," ManMan replied, her voice brightening. "Though it told me I needed some base classes first. Acolyte and…" She did a quick browse through her stats page. "A Seer?"

  Ulbert, who had been silently observing, finally spoke up, his hand pausing on his goat-tee.

  "Astrologian… That's a more advanced class to play, especially for a new player. It's incredibly versatile— it can heal, shield, and provide powerful buffs based on celestial alignments. Its later advancements, like Fateweaver and Aspectarian, have some truly overpowered support skills. But it requires a level of minute control and cooldown management that's punishing even for veterans."

  "Ulbert-san is right," Touch Me attested. ManMan noticed the demon goat-man become so surprised his hand stopped its stroking manoeuvre entirely. "I know I said to pick a support class if you were unsure, but I did not expect you to go for one of the hardest, ManMan."

  "Well, I didn't know," she said with a shrug. "I picked it because I thought it was pretty and I liked the starry effects its spells had in the previews."

  Momonga let out a hearty, rattling laugh at her comment. "Well, that is indeed true! The Astrologian-based classes all tend to have a certain sparkling radiance to their effects. Especially for some of their endgame subclasses and their 10th-Tier spells. I once saw a Fateweaver's Super-Tier spell, 'Astral Stasis,' cover an entire battlefield in a huge canopy of constellations. It blinded everyone including her allies, but was definitely beautiful."

  ManMan perked up at Momonga's descriptions. "Wow… What are those tiers you mentioned, Momonga-san?"

  "Oh, they are like, the levels of magic that you can cast. From one to ten. It gets more costly but its effects are also greater." Momonga's red pints in his skull shifted slightly in ManMan's direction. "They also get more sparkly. Beyond the 10th-Tier, there's also Super-Tier spells, though those behave more like skills than spellcasts."

  "Speaking of which, what skills and spells do you have access to, ManMan-chan?" BubblingTeapot snuggled over.

  ManMan took a look at her detailed stats again. "I have… just Acolyte at Lvl 1. Also Fey-Touched as my racial class, also at Lvl 1. But somehow my character's still Lvl 1 despite that."

  The slime paused upon hearing her answer. Her gelatinous form seemed to freeze mid-wiggle. (◎_◎); "Oh?"

  Momonga followed suit, the red lights in his eye sockets flickering in surprise. (′?ω?)? "Eh?"

  Peroroncino also joined in, his avian head tilting at a comical angle. щ(?Д?щ) "NANIIIII?"

  "Eh?" (′?_?)?` ManMan looked at the three in confusion. "Is something wrong?"

  Ulbert then cut through the three's stupor with a knowing tone while Touch Me was chuckling in the background. "Of course she'd have racial classes as a humanoid! Usually, humanoids cannot naturally acquire racial levels. But you've seen how much she's customised her avatar, you all should have naturally expected her to buy that item too!"

  Peroroncino let out a cry of anguish. "Did you really, really, really buy it, ManMan-san??"

  "Buy what?"

  "The racial class item! For your elven race, I think it would be called something tree-related?"

  ManMan popped back into her interface page and checked her purchase history.

  "I think I may have purchased a thing called [The Seed of Lineages Unbound]. Should I not have?"

  Peroroncino was now rolling around hysterically on the ground.

  "Uh…" Momonga paused briefly, his skeletal fingers steepling as he searched for the best to explain to his beginner elf friend. "It's not that it's a bad item, it's just that it's effects are not very valuable considering how much it costs."

  ManMan was still confused. Momonga decided to elaborate.

  "Hmmm, it's the single most expensive role-playing item for RP-ers in YGGDRASIL. It allows for humanoid players to have racial classes attached to their humanoid characters." Momonga patiently stated, recalling the relevant information from his vast internal encyclopaedia of YGGDRASIL knowledge.

  "However, they do not get to choose what racial classes they get and instead, it's decided by the game from a fixed list. Furthermore, unlike heteromorphs, humanoid racial classes offer only fixed stat boosts and a small selection of skills." Momonga continued.

  "Therefore, it's sometimes seen as a paid detriment because it consumes your available level pool for minimal power gain. For you ManMan-san, you are still technically level one despite already having two functional classes, as the next level you gain will be automatically distributed to Fey-Touched to make up the difference."

  He let his words hang in the air before continuing. "Essentially, it's an exorbitantly priced item that is only useful for RP or very niche and specialised builds. It does make your character very unique though, as—"

  "AS MOST PEOPLE WON'T DUMP 500 BUCKS ON SOME OVERPRICED RP ITEM!" Peroroncino wailed, completing Momonga's explanation for him.

  "Ah… I see…" ManMan nodded. "Well, I thought it sounded cool and may allow me to customise my avatar further. I don't regret it though."

  "Yeah! So shut up, stupid brother!" BubblingTeapot defended, gently patting ManMan's shoulder. "ManMan-chan, it's perfectly fine, okay! In fact, it just means you are a capable individual able to afford such an item."

  She then turned to Ototori throwing a tantrum on the mud. "If you're so upset, then maybe you should think about why you aren't able to afford it! Now get off the ground and keep up!"

  The bird shut up after that.

  "Hahaha! As expected of Touch Me's sister," Warrior Takemikazuchi laughed as he lead the way at the front of their party. "Truly, going all out on visuals and effects runs in the family. ManMan-san, did you know your brother has an entire library of explosion, lift-off and landing effects he switches as he pleases? You're not the most extreme. Not yet, anyway."

  Touch Me's magnificent armour seemed to lose a bit of its lustre, the ethereal glow dimming in what could only be interpreted as a wave of digital sibling-related shame.

  "Unless she also likes to indulge in outfits, glamour and transmog," Tabula Smaragdina joshed, turning to ManMan with a casual look. He instantly froze when he realised she was looking at him with her head tilted quizzically. "Wait, you are not into glamours too, are you?"

  That single, innocent question acted like a defibrillator on Peroroncino's stunned form. He erupted from his avian mud-bath with a squawk, a streak of filthy feathers, and practically phased through the air to stand beside her publicly visible inventory screen.

  "No way…" The Bird-Man's voice was a strangled whisper. If ingame avatars had expressions, ManMan was certain she was witnessing a case of permanent ocular damage from the violent, spasmodic flickering of his nictitating membranes.

  He then turned to look at her, his entire body trembling in shock. A single, mournful cry escaped him. "WE'VE FOUND A LEVIATHAN… AND SHE DOESN'T EVEN KNOW WHAT SHE IS!" He crumpled back to the ground, this time on his knees.

  Momonga had also staggered a step back after witnessing her inventory. "ManMan-san… your dedication to the craft is… truly terrifying."

  Nearby, Ulbert, Takemikazuchi, and Tabula had devolved into a wheezing, hysterical pile. Ulbert then started slapping Touch Me's gleaming pauldron as he cackled on.

  "Touch-san, I— kekekehe— take back everything I said. You and your sister are truly the best. Thank you for funding this game so us plebs can play for free, receive free anniversary rewards and event mail. We offer our greatest thanks, Sultan Touch and Sultana ManMan."

  ManMan felt a little annoyed. She liked those dresses. Colourful dresses made her happy. Why couldn't she buy them?

  "Don't you pay these uncultured brutes any mind, ManMan-chan," BubblingTeapot declared as one of her cool, gelatinous tentacles looped comfortingly around ManMan's arm and pulling her away from the financial commentary. "Their idea of 'fashion' is finding a helmet that doesn't clip through their shoulder pads. They wouldn't know haute couture if it cast a super-tier spell on them."

  Finding immediate solace in her friend's soothing, slimey solidarity, ManMan nodded emphatically. "You truly are the only one here who understands, Teapot-chan!"

  ———

  The group's frivolous atmosphere began to solidify into a more focused, yet still cheerful readiness as they closed in on their designated hunting grounds. Momonga noted their positions on his mental map with a practiced eye. After her chat with BubblingTeapot, ManMan had changed out of her default elven garb into a beginner's tunic and hose set.

  Their destination was a zone called the Demontrice's Nest, a patch of Helheim blighted with mobs in the upper-seventies. It was the unanimous choice: a solitary monster— a notoriously feisty demonic chicken— meant no risk of stray adds slipping past their defences to swat their level one charge into a respawn zone. Not that Momonga truly believed anything could get past Warrior Takemikazuchi's bladework, Peroroncino's pinpoint arrows, or Tabula's calculated magic.

  Still it was better to be prepared.

  Momonga approached her. The new outfit had made the elf look slightly more youthful, could not quite conceal those faint whispers of sorrow that he saw earlier.

  "ManMan-san," he began, his voice taking on the calming, instructive tone of a senior player. "I'll start casting some protective spells on you. You probably won't need them, given the recent PVP changes that make you practically inviolate below level fifty. And between us…" He gestured to the veritable wall of heteromorphic muscle and magic around them. "It's improbable that a mob will even look in your direction. But in YGGDRASIL, paranoia is a virtue. It's always better to be prepared."

  She nodded, her charmingly out-of-place straw sun hat bobbing agreeably. Momonga noted the hat even had thoughtful, pre-cut openings for her elegant ears to pop through. The entire getup made her look like an elf on a resort holiday, a vision of pastoral peace that was violently at odds with Helheim's sulphurous and bleak hellscape.

  "Alright," he said, targeting the high elf and beginning his incantations. The air around him hummed with gathering power.

  "[Triple Boosted Magic: Flame Resistance]

  [Maximised Magic: Reinforce Armour]

  [Maximised Magic: Shield Wall]

  [Maximised Magic: Absorption]

  [Extend Magic: Wall of Protection from Arrows]

  [Extend Magic: Wall of Protection from Projectiles]

  [Extend Magic: Protection Energy: Negative]

  [Boosted Magic: Resistance Boost]

  [Extend Magic: Haste]

  [Body of Effulgent Beryl]

  [Body of Effulgent Aquamarine]

  [Body of Effulgent Heliodor]"

  A rainbow aurora of shimmering, multi-hued magical energy erupted around ManMan, layering over her simple adventurer's tunic until she glittered like a priceless jewel displayed in a fortress. The defensive matrices were so dense they slightly distorted the air around her.

  Momonga gave a satisfied nod. "That should be sufficient for a casual stroll." He then remembered the original point of the exercise. "Oh, ManMan-san, you can start practicing your spells here too. An acolyte should have access to some basic healing or shielding spells."

  "Got it, Momonga-san. Thanks for the… spells? Magic?" She scratched one long, pointed ear as she tried to find the right term, seemingly unfazed by the fact she was now probably the most heavily defended level one character in the history of the game.

  "Buffs," Momonga supplied helpfully, the single word doing little to quantify the astronomical overkill shimmering around her.

  "Buffs, got it!" The high elf with a straw hat on a vacation to Helheim answered energetically. "Hmmm, it says I've got three spells, Benefica, Tutelica, and Malefica. It seems the first two heals and shields, while the third is my damage spell. I've also got a racial skill called Fey-Glamour."

  The unrecognised spell piqued Momonga's interest. "Fey-Glamour? What does it do?"

  "It generates a minor illusion on myself." She replied, her garnet eyes scanning the tooltip.

  A snort of derisive laughter erupted from Peroroncino. "HAHAHA! Of course it does! That's why that cash item is considered worthless for anything other than—" A swift, gloppy pseudopod from BubblingTeapot smacked against the side of his head with the sound a wet thwump, preventing him from finishing his squawk.

  "Shut up! Go hide in your tree!"

  Momonga, for his part, tried his best to comfort ManMan and not spoil her job fantasy. "Well… it may prove surprisingly useful for… certain non-combat… social quests!" he said, grasping for a positive spin. "Don't write it off yet. For now, just focus on practicing your main spells on us. They won't be very potent at your level, but casting them will still get you shared EXP from our kills."

  As he turned to take his position beside Tabula Smaragdina at the backlines, he offered one final, crucial piece of advice. "Oh, and one last thing! Don't aim those healing spells at any undead. Like me. It has the opposite of the intended effect."

  ManMan's head bobbed in an eager, understanding nod, her whole avatar radiating a newbie's excitement that sent a nostalgic pang through Momonga himself.

  "Oooh! Noted, Momonga-san!" she chirped. "I'll do my best not to accidentally exorcise you!"

  ———

  Lanyue had never been much of a team player. It was only natural. Her world had been one of solitary perfection, a silent pact between her mind, her body, and the water below. Teamwork was a theoretical concept she understood but had never truly felt. Even in team-based diving events, the final score was an aggregate of individual performances; her success or failure was hers alone.

  Now, as ManMan the High Elf, she was getting her first real taste of it, and it was intoxicating.

  Sure, there had been "team" activities before— obligatory rounds of water polo, netball, volleyball and futsal with her Neo-Asia colleagues. But those were exercises in rapport and courtesy, performed with a fraction of their true capacity. They were a way to wind down, to socialise, to remind their bodies of motion without the crushing pressure of competition. The mood was positively relaxed; tension was a foreign concept.

  Here in YGGDRASIL, that tension was in the very air she metaphorically breathed.

  Her brother Touch Me's friends in Nine's Own Goal were terrifyingly competent, coordinated, and confident. She did not understand the specific commands shouted in jargon or the precise tactical significance of every movement, but she recognised the language of elite performance. This was a practiced routine, a choreography of violence where every step, every cast, every strike was executed with the flawless, unconscious certainty that comes from countless hours of repetition.

  They moved with a synchronicity that spoke of deep trust and immense skill. They knew their roles, their timing, their limits— not just individually, but as a unit. It was a different kind of perfection than the solitary silence of a dive, but it was perfection all the same, and she found herself utterly captivated by it.

  At the front, her brother Touch Me and BubblingTeapot formed an immovable wall against the furious demonic chicken, expertly managing its aggression. ManMan recalled BubblingTeapot's simple and proud explanation: "As a Tank, I stand on the frontlines and manage the aggro of the enemies! That way, I make room and create space for the rest of the party to utilise their specialities!"

  Their movements were a seamless dance of taunts, blocks, and positioning shifts, a flawless duet of controlled violence. Their synergy was infectious, and most importantly, they looked like they were truly enjoying themselves.

  Warrior Takemikazuchi and Peroroncino protected the flanks, their vigilance absolute. They were the masters of opportunistic strikes, lunging into any opening with devastating effect while simultaneously ensuring no wandering mob could ever breach the perimeter and disrupt the main engagement.

  In the rear, Momonga, Ulbert, and Tabula formed an artillery line of ceaseless magic. Ulbert's spells were grand, theatrical spectacles that built to a cataclysmic conclusion. Tabula's were models of efficient, calculated power. Momonga wove a more varied tapestry of death, peppering his offensive spells with summoned skeletons that bolstered the front line. It was a symphony of controlled chaos.

  "As a caster," Momonga had told her, his voice calm amidst the magical storm, "you just need to keep your GCDs, the Global Cooldown timers, running. Always be casting. That is the first and most fundamental rule. Plan your rotation, strategise your mana expenditure, and maximise your uptime."

  Downtime. Efficiency. Planning. Strategies. Uptime.

  Concepts she knew. Tenets of her old life. The meticulous planning of a dive's trajectory, the brutal efficiency of a trained body moving with zero wasted motion, the strategy of a full competitive season, the relentless pursuit of perfect uptime in training. Every concept was intimately and painfully familiar.

  A spark ignited within her, fierce and bright. This was no longer just a game in her eyes, but a new a pool to leap into, a new platform for her to stand on. A new set of rules to master.

  And for the first time since her world had shrunk to the four white walls of her hospital suite, a fierce, competitive hunger returned. She could not wait to dissect these mechanics, to optimise her rotations, to find that perfect, seamless state of flow where action and thought became one.

  She wanted to join them.

  She wanted to earn her place beside them.

  She looked down on her skills and spells on her hotbar, the tooltips glowing with simple, beginner-level promise:

  Benefica: Heals a single target.

  Tutelica: Grants a small temporary shield.

  Malefica: Deals minor magical damage to a single target.

  Fey Glamour: Casts a minor illusion. Alters the user's appearance slightly for a short duration.

  The mindset clicked into place with the comfort of a well-worn routine.

  A dive starts with a single step. Breath in. Stay calm. Analyse. Determine. Visualise.

  Then execute.

  The Demonic Chicken lunged, its talons raking across BubblingTeapot's gelatinous shield. A small sliver of the slime's health bar dipped.

  An opening. A need.

  "[Benefica]!"

  ManMan called out the incantation. A soft, silvery light— like the first star of an evening— descended upon her party member, basking it in a light, gentle radiance. The HP bar ticked up by a minuscule, almost laughable amount.

  Infinitesimal. Statistically irrelevant. But it was a perfect cast. And BubblingTeapot had received ManMan's first spell.

  A happy jiggle ran through the slime's form. "Oh! ManMan-chan! Thanks! It's so pretty!"

  Emboldened, ManMan repeated the process. Analyse. Determine. Execute. Another silvery star fell upon Touch Me, then a third upon Takemikazuchi. And then a silvery star did not fall on Peroroncino. His health bar was still pristine.

  A squawk of indignation came from the flank. "Hey! Where's mine?" he called out, his tone theatrically wounded by the apparent preferential treatment.

  BubblingTeapot snapped back at her brother. "Little bro, YOU HAVEN'T BEEN HIT. Shut up and shoot something!"

  The demonic chicken, besieged on all fronts, was now faltering. Its health bar dipped precariously into the reds, its movements growing sluggish and desperate under the relentless assault from monsters more monstrous than itself. The pressure was overwhelming.

  ManMan looked down at her spells. Malefica. Damage. A new variable to calculate.

  "[Malefica]!"

  She pointed a slender finger at the beleaguered fowl. A single, brilliant mote of light— a tiny, vengeful star— condensed in the air high above it and plummeted down, striking its target with a satisfying fizz of scorching astral energy.

  "Excellent, sister! Keep at it!" Touch Me's voice boomed with encouragement from the frontline, his own divine blade parrying a weak swipe of a talon with effortless grace.

  Emboldened, she cycled to her last tool. Protection.

  "[Tutelica]!"

  With a graceful, sweeping gesture, she directed the magic toward her brother. A handful of shimmering, constellation-like points bloomed into existence around him, weaving into a delicate, orbiting pattern that cast a faint, protective gleam across his platinum armour. The shield held for a mere second, shimmering valiantly, before it shattered under the creature's last, dying lunge.

  With a defeated squawk, the monster dissolved into a shower of iridescent data particles and data crystals.

  [You have received: EXP]

  [You have received item: Demonic Chicken Leg (High) x1]

  [You have received item: Data Crystal (Middle) x1]

  [You have levelled up!]

  [Level Increased! You can now assign levels!]

  She looked at her character page. The number has definitely changed. She was now level seven.

  "Congrats on the levels, ManMan-san!" Momonga's voice held a note of genuine approval. His sentiment was immediately echoed by BubblingTeapot's excited jiggling, Touch Me's proud nod, and a hearty laugh from Takemikazuchi.

  "First mob kill!"

  "First proper level up, ManMan-chan!"

  "That dopamine hit, right? Feels good!"

  Though her elven avatar's features were locked in their default, serene mask, the energy radiating from ManMan's still form was anything but impassive. It was a wave of excitement and elation that was obvious to all present.

  Her gloved hands were clenched into determined fists at her sides.

  "Yes!!" her voice rang out, clear and bright with a hunger she herself had not heard before. "Let's go fry the entire flock!"

  ———

  The Argent Canopy. Sapling's Rest. Yggdrasil's Cradle. Alfheim. YGGDRASIL. 2128.

  The hunt concluded after three more demonic chickens fell to the clan's practiced efficiency. Touch Me, having used a cash shop item to temporarily adopt a more humanoid guise, gave his sister a brief tour of Alfheim's serene, soaring spires and bustling plazas before they parted. Following his recommendation, she rented one of the finest suites at The Argent Canopy, a place famed for the magnificent glamour dressers in its most luxurious rooms.

  Yet, the allure of dyeing her outfits could not compete with the deeper pull she felt to simply be in this world a little longer, to bask in the echo of the day's sensations.

  She found a quiet corner in a secluded garden, beneath the boughs of a luminous and jade-leafed tree and sat. The virtual sun set, casting long shadows as she let the day's experiences wash over her.

  The boisterous camaraderie of Nine's Own Goal, the terrifying synchronicity of their combat, the shared focus of the hunt— it had stirred something long buried.

  A familiar constellation of emotions, ones she had thought lost under an avalanche of grief, purposelessness, futility, and resignation, now burned bright in the darkness behind her eyes.

  Elation. Excitement. Exhilaration. Euphoria.

  Purpose.

  A will to live.

  A fire to test her strength, to feel the glorious burn of effort, to face a challenge and dissect it. An invigorating need to pour every fibre of her being, her very soul, into a goal. To welcome each new dawn with a reason to push harder than the day before. To find her limits, and then break them. To strive for victory and a purpose.

  An old mantra, a truth she had once lived by but had let herself forget, echoed as a silent but powerful revelation: Mankind's greatest victory is not in never falling, but in refusing to stay fallen.

  She had fallen. Betrayed by the cruel whims of Fate she could not control.

  It left her broken, shattered, bereaved of the very purpose that defined her.

  If this grim reality was the tapestry Fate had chosen to weave for her, then she would seize the threads herself.

  She would learn its weave, master its loom, and study its patterns until the day she could sit as the weaver of her own reality.

  But until then, she will never, ever, surrender to this idea of Fate.

  Never.

  ——— CHARACTER SHEETS ———