The Death’s Friend Inn was one of the most bustling establishments in the city of Salem. Its spacious interior, pleasant décor, high-quality drinks, and cheerful staff were the pillars that upheld the place’s reputation. Downstairs, in the common tavern, a musical ensemble of bards and knights played an exciting war melody for the patrons.

  In a lonely table in the left corner sat a young swordswoman, a melancholic expression on her face. She tried to distract herself by watching one of the band’s knights enthusiastically pound the drum while the bard beside him struggled to keep up on his xylophone.

  But the memory of her defeat continued to plague her. She had been humiliated twice by a low-level Druid despite her relentless efforts to improve. It felt like an insurmountable gap lay between them.

  To make things worse, she had also been kicked out of the guild that had taken her in. Even though she never liked Zed, he had gifted her the sword now sheathed at her waist.

  It was thanks to the Salazar’s Blade that Havoc had managed to defeat the two accomplices who had accompanied the thieving Druid. The knight and the assassin hadn't fought poorly, but they needed significantly more training to reach her level.

  “Would the madam care for another pint?” a tavern employee asked, a skeleton wearing a blue suit that matched the establishment's modern décor, though it jarringly contrasted with Salem's medieval European setting.

  “Yes, please,” she said, trying her best not to let her sadness show.

  The skeleton-waiter moved away from the table and headed to the counter on the other side of the inn. Havoc looked around. Tables were packed with groups of friends, all enjoying the virtual world's Happy Hour.

  It was during contemplative moments like this that her mind would detach from the fantasy world around her, recalling the loneliness of the real world. She thought of her monotonous job and the superficial friendships she maintained in the workplace.

  She remembered Malorn, the Black Paw’s sorcerer, and Tonks, the guild's vice-leader, her former best friends. Thanks to Zed's incompetence, those friendships were ruined. To make matters worse, she had also been falsely accused of stealing the iron.

  This string of disappointments soured her hopes for any real improvement. Havoc felt like logging out and lying in bed, letting time pass on its own. But just as she opened the menu to confirm her exit, five people stepped in front of her.

  “What do you want?” she said, realizing they were members of her former guild.

  “Zed wants you to return the sword,” the Paladin in the center of the group replied.

  “Did you really need to send five people? You could have just sent a message. I would have returned it without any problem.”

  Someone approached the group of five. Havoc watched the skeleton-waiter push his way between the Swordsman and the Priest to the group's left.

  The newcomers protested, but the employee sincerely bowed and apologized, then approached the table and served Havoc’s drink.

  “Here. It’s on the house.”

  “Thank you.”

  Before taking a sip, Havoc unequipped the Salazar’s Blade, contemplated the silver blade one last time, and tossed it toward the five.

  “Here!”

  The sword landed in the Paladin’s arms, who barely kept it from dropping to the floor. With the weapon in hand, he forced a malicious smile and exchanged glances with the Swordsman next to him before handing him the sword.

  “Thanks for making this easy for us.”

  The Salazar’s Blade was unsheathed by the Swordsman. The other members of the group also drew their weapons. The vampire waiter serving the adjacent table was the first to notice the brewing trouble. He excused himself from the customers he was serving and approached the troublesome group to scold them. “If you want to fight, take it outside!” he said, pointing to the exit.

  But his loud announcement only drew the attention of the surrounding customers, and soon after, those farther away as the gossip circulated through the tables. The more distant patrons rose and approached to watch the escalating confrontation.

  “I don’t want to fight,” Havoc stated.

  But her words only excited the spectators. From somewhere in the crowd, someone yelled, “Fight, fight, fight!”

  His cry was contagious, and the adventurers in the tavern joined in, “Fight, fight, fight!”

  The staff tried, but failed to calm the clientele. The crowd backed up, pushing the nearest tables aside to form a circular arena where the six could fight.

  Havoc wasn't surprised by the audacity of the five, as sending goons to eliminate enemies was a typical move Zed would make to flaunt his strength.

  However, what truly infuriated her was seeing the Salazar’s Blade in the hands of a spoiled Swordsman. But she hadn't handed it over hoping they would spare her; rather, she knew they wouldn’t stop hunting her as long as she carried that weapon.

  She wished for a single stroke of luck.

  The faces of the five displayed the confidence of those certain of victory. The first to act was the Priest. He backed up a few steps and disguised a spell incantation, but Havoc caught a glimpse of a luminous spiral flowing down his arm.

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  In rapid motion, she opened her inventory, equipped her secondary sword, drew it back, and struck the beer pint with the side of the blade. The object shot off like a projectile, hitting the Paladin’s left shoulder squarely and then ricocheting off the face of the Swordsman wielding the Salazar’s Blade.

  The drink from the pint splashed everywhere. The five Black Paw members staggered backward and sideways. Havoc capitalized on the distraction, leaping onto the table and using it to propel a boosted jump, combining the Charge and Whirlwind Slash abilities.

  The Charge propelled her behind the five, and the precise timing of the Whirlwind Slash had her spinning three times during the leap, cutting all five in a single move and gracefully landing on the floor as the final rotation finished.

  The crowd went wild.

  Her blade acquired a nearly imperceptible bluish glow, indicating that the passive ability Sword Mastery had reached five stacks, increasing the swordswoman’s Agility by 5 points, equivalent to an entire level invested in an attribute.

  However, five stacks were insufficient to help her in this situation.

  Sword Mastery was an ability that rewarded a methodical fighting style with little room for error. Stacks were gained by hitting enemies with sword strikes and lost upon being hit. However, blocks did not deduct points, while successful parries generated stacks.

  Havoc wondered if the 21 points granted by the maximum stacks of this ability could save her from the storm of attacks she was about to receive.

  The Black Paw Swordsman was the first to recover. He brandished the Salazar’s Blade and charged forward. Havoc dodged the initial attacks, knowing that blocking blows from her former weapon was a terrible idea.

  The moment her opponent pulled the sword back, Havoc predicted the ability he would use and retreated a few steps. Just as she thought she was safe, a second sword struck her shoulder, wielded by the Paladin who had taken advantage of her moment of distraction.

  The blow made her stumble backward, but she managed to recover and throw herself to the left in time to dodge the Paladin’s shield bash. Havoc glanced at her sword's blade; the blue glow had vanished.

  In front of her, the Paladin and Swordsman advanced with fury in their eyes, while behind, the Mage, Priest, and Thief aimed their staves and crossbow at her, preparing for a combined attack from which there was no escape.

  Her will to fight completely drained away. She had no reason to keep going. Thinking of an escape route from this situation felt like a waste of time. Furthermore, the twelve-hour penalty now didn't seem like the end of the world. Maybe a break from the game would do her good.

  Havoc accepted her impending death. But as she closed her eyes and let her hopes fade, a blast of warm air enveloped her from head to toe. When she opened her eyes, she was face-to-face with the back of a strange, yet somewhat familiar, avatar.

  The figure wore an outfit reminiscent of Chinese martial arts uniforms: a black suit with red details and a long, reddish sash tied a handspan below the chest. Her hands and part of her forearms were enveloped in a flaming energy.

  Havoc recognized that wide-eyed look and that slender nose, but as she tried to search her memories, the fighter lunged at the Paladin. The energy accumulated in her right fist was delivered in a concentrated punch against the raised shield.

  A loud thud reverberated through the tavern. The Paladin stumbled, nearly losing his footing. She pressed forward, grabbed him by the collar of his undershirt beneath his armor, and lifted him off the ground.

  How many Strength points does she have? Havoc wondered silently.

  The martial artist hurled the Paladin into the Swordsman who was coming toward her. Their bodies collided, sending them tumbling onto the inn’s wooden floor.

  At the same moment, the Thief fired his crossbow. The projectile whizzed through the air, heading straight for the fighter. Her eyes flickered toward the shooter. She extended her arm and slapped the arrow away with the back of her hand, gloved in her gauntlet.

  The arrow flew to the other end of the inn; a second later, the sound of it hitting the wall was heard. The Black Paw Mage and Priest were stunned; their spells were ready to fire, but in the blink of an eye, the fighter was already a meter away.

  She grasped the back of each of their necks and slammed their heads together with tremendous force. The skulls collided, producing a strong crack that echoed through the inn walls. Even within a game, witnessing a blow like that still sent shivers down one's spine.

  The two victims were dazed and vulnerable to the next attack, but before the fighter could finish them, a voice announced, “No! We… we surrender,” she looked over her shoulder and saw the Paladin pleading.

  “I’m sorry, but the karma I’ll gain for killing you is too good to pass up.”

  “No, please!” he begged, but a sword blade pierced his chest.

  The Paladin fell to his knees, lifeless. Havoc didn’t waste time and finished off the Swordsman while he was trying to get up. The fighter followed suit and reduced the Thief, Mage, and Priest's hit points to zero.

  Applause erupted from the crowd, though the manager and staff of the inn could be heard shouting insults. Havoc bowed to the audience in thanks, and then walked over to the fighter to thank her.

  “Thank you, um…” She analyzed the information of the avatar in front of her. “Julie.”

  “Do you always give up that easily?” was the comment she received from her.

  When Havoc tried to explain herself, Julie reached out and ruffled her hair.

  “I’m kidding.”

  Havoc took a step back, and after looking at the girl's face, she finally recognized her.

  “You’re Juliet, from Dark Age. You used to date Dante, right?”

  The professional’s playful and radiant face fell when she heard the last part of the comment. She retorted, trying to disguise a hint of resentment, “I was also the team’s vice-captain…”

  Havoc’s heart stopped for a moment as she realized she had just reduced one of her inspirations to a mere romantic interest. Her mind was flooded with a whirlwind of thoughts. She tried to think of an excuse in time to minimize the gaffe.

  “I truly apologize. I… I didn’t mean to diminish you like that. I can imagine how frustrating it is to be so talented, dedicate yourself so much, and still only be recognized for… you know.”

  Havoc raised her face and noticed that the fighter no longer seemed angry.

  “It’s okay, you’re forgiven.”

  Julie turned her back and walked among the bodies of the five avatars. She then crouched beside the defeated Swordsman and picked up the sword lying next to the body. It was sheathed. Without warning, Julie threw the weapon to Havoc.

  The swordswoman was startled by the toss. Her eyes followed the trajectory arc, and then she raised her arms to catch her old sword back.

  “Thank you for your help,” she said, bowing respectfully.

  Julie returned to her, extended her arm, and touched her shoulder.

  “I was waiting for a friend to arrive when I heard a commotion. Being the curious person I am, I decided to investigate. And imagine my surprise when I stepped into this tavern and saw five buffoons harassing an innocent girl? I couldn’t resist. I acted on instinct and just had to butt in.”

  Havoc felt a comforting warmth inside her. Julie’s avatar acted exactly like the Júlia she knew from the dozens of interviews she’d seen, the videos she’d watched, and the competitions she had rooted for ever since she started playing.

  “W-would you like to…”

  “Are you buying?” Julie quickly interjected.

  “Yeah,” Havoc confirmed with a murmur and a nod.