𝐂h𝐚p𝐭e𝐫 𝐈: I𝐧t𝐨 𝐭h𝐞 𝐅r𝐨s𝐭
The neon glow of Dhaka bled through the blinds, painting streaks of pink and blue across the walls of my room. It was a city that never slept, a symphony of sound and light, its pulse echoing faintly even within the cocoon of my apartment. But in here, amidst my carefully arranged studio space, I commanded a different kind of noise—the noise of digital worlds and the people who lived within them.
I stood in front of the camera drone, brushing a stray lock of hair behind my ear. My emerald-green blouse caught the light, and my makeup, applied with precision, gave me the polished look my audience had come to expect. Professionally casual—that was the aesthetic.
The camera blinked red, signaling it was recording. I smiled, the practiced kind that felt just shy of sincere, and launched into my opening.
“Hey, everyone! Nusrat here,” I began, my voice steady and warm. “Let’s talk about gaming—not just any gaming, but the state of games today. You know what I mean: endless tutorials, arrows pointing you in the right direction, glowing markers on every objective. It’s like they don’t trust us to figure things out anymore.”
I gestured lightly with my hand, shifting my weight. “Don’t get me wrong—some guidance is fine, especially for new players. But there’s a line between guidance and treating your audience like toddlers. Where’s the thrill of discovery? The satisfaction of solving something on your own? These days, a lot of games are so busy holding your hand that they forget to let you play.”
I leaned forward slightly, letting my words carry more weight. “It’s not just me, either. Plenty of players feel the same way—that the challenge, the respect for player intelligence, has been stripped away in favor of accessibility. And look, accessibility is important, but so is trust. Trust that we can learn, adapt, and grow through the experience.”
The drone’s camera tilted slightly, signaling its recording sequence was nearing its end. I wrapped up with a confident smile.
"Now, I know a lot of you have been buzzing about this new VR game—the one you’ve been practically begging me to check out. I hear you, trust me. But I’ve also heard the whispers, the rumors swirling around it. And while I’m all for pushing boundaries and diving headfirst into full immersion, let’s just say I’d prefer to steer clear of any... unexpected surprises for now."
I let the pause hang for a beat, my smile turning playful but measured. "So, stay tuned, folks. We’ve got a weekly giveaway coming up right after a quick word from our sponsors. Don’t go anywhere!"
The camera’s light dimmed as the drone powered down, floating back to its dock. I exhaled and sat on the edge of my bed, rolling my shoulders to loosen the tension. The moment of stillness was short-lived.
A soft chime came from my SocialSync app. My eyes flicked to the holographic notification hovering just above my tablet.
Private Message: Quantum Forge Entertainment Representative.
“Now what’s this?” I murmured, picking up the device. The name alone was enough to pique my interest. Quantum Forge didn’t reach out to just anyone.
Good evening, Ms. Nusrat. We’ve been following your work and would like to discuss a potential partnership. Are you available for a video call?
My curiosity warred with a faint sense of unease. Quantum Forge was a powerhouse in the gaming world, but their reputation wasn’t without its shadows. Fully immersive games like theirs often blurred lines—sometimes too much.
Still, this was an opportunity I couldn’t ignore. After a moment, I replied:
I’m available now.
The holographic display shimmered to life, revealing a sleek, corporate office. At its center sat a woman with razor-sharp features and an air of confidence. Her dark hair was slicked back, and her blazer was immaculate—an image of polished authority.
“Good evening, Ms. Nusrat,” she began, her voice smooth but measured. “I’m Amara Cho, Marketing Director at Quantum Forge Entertainment. Thank you for taking the time to speak with me.”
“Of course,” I replied, keeping my tone professional. “What can I do for Quantum Forge?”
Amara’s lips curved into a faint smile. “As you are aware, we’ve launched a groundbreaking MMORPG called Nytherra Unbound. It’s unlike anything the world has ever seen—a fully immersive experience that lets players live, not just play. We believe you’d make an excellent ambassador.”
Her words hung in the air, heavy with promise. Nytherra Unbound. A name in everyone’s lips of the gaming community for the past six months—something revolutionary, something impossible.
“What does being an ambassador involve?” I asked, careful to keep my excitement in check.
“You’d play the game using your likeness, showcasing its possibilities to your audience. In return, we offer exclusive access and competitive compensation.” Her tone shifted, gaining a sharper edge. “But it’s not without its demands. We require at least 20 hours of gameplay weekly, and our fair-play policies must be followed to the letter. It’s not for everyone.”
I hesitated. Fully immersive games had their risks. Emotional tolls, toxic communities, the blur of reality and fiction—it was a lot to consider.
“I’d need some assurances,” I said finally. “What steps have you taken to ensure the game is safe? And what kind of environment am I walking into?”
Amara’s smile didn’t falter, but a calculated sharpness entered her gaze. “Nytherra Unbound has undergone extensive testing, and we’ve implemented measures to foster an inclusive community. Players have tools to moderate their interactions, and we enforce strict policies to handle misconduct swiftly.” She paused, her tone cooling slightly. “But let’s not ignore the realities, Ms. Nusrat. Immersive worlds attract a range of players, and with them, a range of behaviors. Women, both cis and trans, have faced challenges in Nytherra—harassment, hostility. It’s a persistent problem in gaming, as I’m sure you’re aware.”
I nodded, keeping my expression neutral, even as a flicker of unease crept in.
“The issue,” Amara continued, “is that these challenges have driven many women away. And as the balance of our player base shifts, the immersive value of the game diminishes for everyone. We need players like you—skilled, charismatic, and capable of reshaping the narrative. Your presence could help redefine the environment for the better.”
Her words were deliberate, designed to appeal to both my ego and my principles, but something about her delivery felt off. “You’re asking me to play more than just a game,” I said carefully. “You’re asking me to take on a role—almost a responsibility.”
“Exactly,” Amara said, her smile returning, this time tinged with a hint of challenge. “You have the platform, the experience, and the resilience to navigate the complexities of this world. And let’s be honest, Ms. Nusrat—we’ve seen your work. Not just your streams, but the deeper, more… exploratory side of your content.”
A chill coursed through me. She wasn’t talking about my public gaming profile. “I’m not sure I follow,” I replied, though my voice had tightened.
“Oh, I think you do,” she said smoothly. “NeonSphere, for instance. Your ability to thrive in dynamic and, let’s say, unconventional digital environments speak volumes. Managing Nytherra’s ecosystem would be second nature to someone like you.”
My chest tightened as heat rose to my face. I kept my expression calm, refusing to rise to her bait. “You’re making some bold assumptions.”
“I prefer to call it informed confidence,” Amara countered, her tone steady and assured. “And in recognition of your expertise, we’re prepared to offer you a million credits per year, over a three-year contract. Full immersion, full access, and the freedom to shape your involvement with the community as you see fit.”
The air in the room felt heavy. A million credits. Enough to change everything. Enough to silence questions I hadn’t even allowed myself to ask.
I took a steadying breath. “It’s a lot to consider,” I said finally, choosing my words carefully. “But if I agree, I need guarantees. I won’t just be a pawn in your PR strategy.”
“Of course,” Amara replied, her smile widening as if she knew she had me. “We’ll provide everything you need to succeed. And trust me, Ms. Nusrat—success is exactly what we’re betting on.”
Amara’s smile widened, victory flashing briefly in her eyes. “Welcome to Nytherra, Ms. Nusrat. Your equipment will arrive tomorrow.”
The call ended, leaving me staring at my reflection in the now-dark screen.
The next morning, the courier arrived with the NeuroBand, a sleek piece of tech that seemed impossibly lightweight for what it promised. Its matte black surface shimmered faintly in the light, the glowing accents pulsing like a heartbeat.
I lay back on my bed, slipping the device over my temples. “Here we go,” I whispered.
The moment I activated it, the world dissolved.
I was weightless, suspended in an endless expanse of misty light. My body glowed faintly, and every nerve in my body hummed with energy.
“Welcome, traveler,” a voice said, melodic and unearthly.
I turned to see a figure of shifting light and shadow. Their form was neither male nor female, but something beyond definition. Their golden eyes burned with an intensity that seemed to pierce through me.
“You stand at the crossroads of destiny,” they intoned, their voice resonating like the hum of a plucked string. “Are you among The Fated, or do you seek to create a new life within the lands of Nytherra?”
I hesitated, the weight of the decision pressing against my chest. The words hung heavy in the air, charged with meaning I didn’t yet understand.
“What does it mean to be The Fated?” I asked, my voice trembling slightly.
“The Fated are not born of Nytherra,” the figure explained, their golden eyes glowing brighter. “You are outsiders, marked by divine will or cosmic accident. The people of Nytherra call you harbingers of change—some with hope, others with fear. You are unbound by the rules of this world, capable of shaping it in ways none of its inhabitants can. Your path is yours to carve, but it will not be easy.”
I nodded slowly, the implications settling in. The alternative, I assumed, was to create a new life—one rooted in Nytherra’s histories, its cultures, its people. But the allure of being one of The Fated was undeniable. It was also what was required of me.
“I’ll be one of The Fated,” I said.
The figure inclined their head in acknowledgment. “So it shall be.”
Their voice shifted, growing softer but no less commanding. “Your arrival is not your choice, but the gods are watching. They will guide your first steps into this world.”
The shimmering clouds around me began to stir, glowing trails extending in every direction. For a moment, I thought I saw glimpses of Nytherra’s regions—the icy peaks of the North, the sunlit dunes of the South, the lush fields of the West, and the bamboo forests of the East.
Suddenly, a blinding flash of pink light engulfed me, cutting through the mist. My body felt as though it was being pulled in every direction at once, weightless and yet impossibly heavy.
And then, the world went black.
I woke to warmth. The weight of a fur blanket pressed down on me, and the scent of wood smoke filled the air. Slowly, I opened my eyes. The room was dimly lit, a single lantern flickering on a wooden table. The walls were rough-hewn timber, and frost clung to the corners of the single window.
I sat up, my body stiff but uninjured. Every detail of the room was astonishing—down to the faint creak of the wooden floorboards beneath my shifting weight. This wasn’t just a game; it felt like reality.
The sound of footsteps approached, and the door creaked open. A towering man entered; his shoulders draped in a heavy fur cloak. His braided beard was streaked with gray, and a faint scar traced down his cheek.
“You’re awake,” he said, his deep voice warm but rough. “Good. You gave us a bit of a scare.”
I swung my legs over the side of the bed, my bare feet brushing against a woven rug. “Where am I?”
“The Frosted Mead Hall,” he replied. “In Frostholm. It’s a small settlement in the northern reaches of Vaelkir territory.”
“Vaelkir,” I repeated, my mind sorting through the bits of lore I’d skimmed before launching the game. The hardy, Viking-like people of the frozen north—warriors bound by their gods and their harsh homeland.
The man stepped closer, extending a hand. “Name’s Eirik. Me and some of the lads found you outside the village after that lightning strike last night. You were unconscious, but breathing.”
“I don’t remember much,” I said, shaking his hand. His grip was firm, his skin calloused from years of labor or battle. “Thank you for helping me.”
Eirik waved off the gratitude. “We couldn’t leave you out there. The wolves would’ve finished you off if the cold didn’t.” He glanced at me appraisingly. “You don’t look like you’re from around here.”
“Not exactly,” I replied, unsure how much to reveal. The Fated were outsiders—something not entirely trusted by Nytherra’s inhabitants. “I’m... new.”
Eirik chuckled. “That much is obvious. Tell you what: if you’re feeling up to it, I’ve got a way you can repay us.”
I raised an eyebrow. “What kind of way?”
He grinned, his teeth white against his dark beard. “There’s a pack of wolves harassing the farms outside Frostholm. We’ve tracked them to a nearby cave, but we could use an extra sword. You look like you’ve got fight in you.”
I glanced at my hands—smooth, unscarred, and utterly untrained for battle. Typical tutorial mission, I thought, suppressing a smile. “I’ll help,” I said. “But I’ll need gear.”
“Halda runs the shop next door,” Eirik said. “Tell her I sent you. She’ll set you up.”
As I stepped outside the tavern, the cold hit me like a wave. The air was sharp and bracing, carrying the faint scent of pine and smoke. Snow blanketed the settlement, crunching softly under my boots as I walked.
Frostholm was small but lively. The buildings were sturdy, made of dark wood and stone, with steeply sloped roofs to shed the snow. Smoke rose from chimneys, and people moved with purpose despite the cold. Children bundled in furs chased each other through the snowdrifts, their laughter a bright contrast to the icy air.
I passed a man splitting logs with a heavy axe, his breath steaming as he worked. Nearby, a woman knelt beside a sled, adjusting the harness on a shaggy, wolf-like creature. The creature’s bright eyes followed me as I passed, its ears flicking.
The people of Frostholm were as rugged as their environment. Their faces were windburned, their hands calloused, and their clothes layered with thick furs and leathers. Yet there was a warmth in their interactions, a camaraderie that made the cold seem almost bearable.
Halda’s shop was a small building tucked between the tavern and what appeared to be a blacksmith’s forge. A sign painted with the image of a hammer and shield swung gently in the breeze above the door.
I stepped inside, and a blast of warmth greeted me. The walls were lined with racks of weapons and armor, everything from crude axes to finely wrought longswords. The room smelled of leather and metal, and a faint haze of smoke hung in the air.
Behind the counter stood Halda, a stout woman with iron-gray hair tied back in a braid. She looked up as I entered, her sharp eyes narrowing.
“You must be the stray Eirik dragged in,” she said, her voice gruff but not unkind.
“That’s me,” I replied. “He said you could help me gear up.”
Halda snorted. “Figures. He’s always soft on newcomers. Fine. Pick what you need, but don’t get greedy. He’s paying.”
As I browsed the shop, I noticed that each weapon and piece of armor was marked with a small plaque detailing its stats and tier:
⦁ Crude Weapons: Basic tools turned into makeshift arms, dealing minimal damage.
⦁ Iron Weapons: Forged from common metal, offering decent damage and durability.
⦁ Leather Armor: Light and flexible, offering some protection without hindering movement.
⦁ Iron Plate Armor: Heavy and sturdy, designed for maximum defense but slower mobility.
I chose a simple iron sword and a leather chestpiece, figuring they’d be enough for a first outing.
Halda wrapped them in cloth and handed them to me. “Don’t die out there,” she said bluntly. “Takes me weeks to replace stock, and I don’t like wasting it on corpses.”
“I’ll do my best,” I said, managing a faint smile.
Back at The Frosted Mead Hall, Eirik was waiting by the fire with two others. One was tall and wiry, his bow slung casually over his shoulder. His sandy hair stuck out from beneath a fur cap, and his blue eyes sparkled with mischief. The other was stocky, his thick beard flecked with snow and a battle axe resting against his knee.
“You’re back,” Eirik said, gesturing for me to join them. “Nusrat, meet Sven and Torvald. Sven’s our archer, and Torvald’s the muscle. They’re as reliable as they are annoying.”
Sven grinned. “Charmed, I’m sure. Don’t let Eirik fool you; he’s the annoying one.”
Torvald chuckled, his deep voice a rumble. “Ignore him. He’s just sore because I’ve outdrunk him three nights in a row.”
Eirik rolled his eyes. “Enough banter. Let’s get moving. The wolves won’t wait forever.”
As I stood near the hearth, warming my hands, I took stock of myself in a wall mirror. My reflection was sharper than I’d ever seen, like staring at the clearest high-definition version of myself. My skin was smooth and pale ivory, glowing faintly in the firelight. My long, dark hair fell in loose waves over the shoulders of my new leather chestpiece. The armor was simple, stitched together from thick hides and fastened with metal buckles, fitted snugly against my slender frame. Beneath it, a soft linen tunic added warmth, its cream fabric peeking out at the collar and cuffs.
The leather bracers on my arms were plain but well-made, and the sturdy boots laced tightly over my trousers felt surprisingly light. I looked both out of place and prepared, a traveler who had just stepped into a world I didn’t yet belong to.
I turned toward Eirik and his companions, trying to appear confident.
Eirik’s presence was commanding, his broad frame emphasized by his fur-lined cloak, which draped over his shoulders like a bear’s pelt. Beneath it, he wore a mix of leather and chainmail, the metal glinting faintly as he moved. His sword hung at his side, the hilt worn from years of use, and his boots were caked with snow and mud.
Sven was a contrast to Eirik—lanky, almost wiry, but with a relaxed ease that made him seem unbothered by the cold. He wore a patched leather jerkin over a simple wool tunic, and his bow was slung across his back alongside a quiver of arrows. His fur cap looked like it had seen better days, its edges frayed, but he wore it with a kind of roguish charm.
Torvald, on the other hand, was built like a fortress. His shoulders were massive, and the reinforced leather armor he wore seemed barely able to contain his bulk. His boots were thick and heavy, his gloves lined with fur, and his battle axe looked like it could cleave a tree in half with a single swing.
“Ready to move?” Eirik asked, snapping me out of my observations.
I nodded, gripping the iron sword I’d chosen from Halda’s shop. Its weight felt foreign in my hand, but solid.
“Stay close, and watch your footing,” Eirik said. “The snow can be tricky, and wolves aren’t the only thing to worry about in these woods.”
We stepped out into the snow, the cold biting at my cheeks. My breath fogged in the air as we trudged through Frostholm’s main square, passing villagers busy with their morning routines. A blacksmith worked at his forge, his hammer ringing out against the anvil, while a woman carried buckets of water from a nearby well. Children darted between the buildings, their laughter echoing through the crisp air.
I couldn’t help but marvel at the details. Every sound, every scent, every texture felt real. The crunch of snow beneath my boots, the distant creak of wooden beams under the weight of frost—it was astonishing.
As we left the settlement, the path narrowed, winding through a dense forest of towering pines. The trees stood like sentinels; their branches heavy with snow. The silence was profound, broken only by the occasional rustle of wind through the canopy.
“How long have you lived in Frostholm?” I asked, breaking the quiet.
“Born and raised,” Eirik replied. “It’s not much, but it’s home. My family’s been here for generations—hunters, farmers, builders. The North doesn’t forgive weakness, but it rewards those who endure.”
“Are the gods a big part of that?” I asked, curious.
Eirik’s expression turned thoughtful. “The gods are everything here. Skoldra gives us the strength to survive the cold, and Tharvak keeps the storms from taking our ships. They don’t give without taking, though. There’s no mercy in their blessings.”
“Sounds harsh,” I said.
Sven chuckled from behind us. “That’s the North for you. Everything’s harsh—the cold, the gods, even the people. But it grows on you.”
“You mean it grows on them,” Torvald said, his voice low and steady. “You’ve been here all of five years, Sven.”
“And yet I’m already more charming than both of you put together,” Sven shot back, grinning.
We reached the mouth of the cave after what felt like an eternity of walking. The entrance loomed ahead, a jagged opening in the mountainside marked by claw marks and frozen blood. The air was colder here, heavy with the metallic tang of violence.
“Stay behind me,” Eirik said, drawing his sword. “Torvald, you’re with me. Sven, cover us from the back. Fated, keep your eyes open and your blade ready.”
I nodded, gripping my sword tightly. My heart was pounding, but I pushed the fear aside.
The first wolf lunged the moment we stepped inside, its growl reverberating through the cavern. It was massive, its fur matted and its eyes glowing faintly in the dim light. Eirik met its charge head-on, his sword flashing in an arc that sent the beast sprawling.
“Careful!” Sven called, loosing an arrow that struck another wolf darting toward me.
I turned, raising my sword just as a third wolf lunged. The impact jarred my arm as the blade connected with its flank, but the system dulled the pain. Instead, I felt a faint, sharp pressure where the claws grazed my armor—a reminder of what might’ve been if the game didn’t protect me from the worst of it.
The wolf yelped and backed off, blood staining the snow-dusted ground.
It struck me, in the chaos, how the game translated the physicality of combat. Each swing of my sword required effort, the weight of the blade pulling at my muscles. My breath came in sharp bursts, my stamina bar flickering faintly in my peripheral vision. The wolves, too, seemed bound by rules—pausing to recover after a failed attack, their movements predictable if I focused.
Taking damage registered as a dull thud, accompanied by a red flash at the edges of my vision. My health bar dropped slightly when the wolf’s claws had grazed me, but the armor absorbed most of the blow.
“Watch your stamina!” Eirik shouted, cutting down another wolf. “Don’t swing unless you’re sure it’ll land!”
I nodded, adjusting my grip. Combat wasn’t about flailing wildly—it was about timing and precision. I waited for the next wolf to lunge, sidestepping at the last moment and driving my blade into its exposed side. The satisfaction of the strike was immediate, the creature collapsing with a final growl.
When the last wolf fell, the cave grew silent once more. My chest heaved, my arms ached, but I was alive—and exhilarated.
“You did well,” Eirik said, clapping me on the shoulder. “Not bad for a first fight.”
Sven gave me a thumbs-up. “Better than most newbies. You didn’t freeze up.”
Torvald knelt by one of the wolves, examining its glowing eyes. “Corruption,” he muttered. “It’s spreading faster than we thought.”
Eirik frowned. “We’ll deal with that later. For now, let’s gather the pelts and head back. You earned your place today, Fated.”
I smiled, the weight of the victory settling in. This world was dangerous, yes—but it was also incredible.
The air in the cave was heavy with the coppery tang of blood, mingling with the faint, musty scent of wet fur. My body ached from the exertion, and my arms trembled as I lowered my sword. The wolves lay scattered around us, their glowing eyes dimmed, their bodies unnaturally still.
"Well done," Eirik said, his voice breaking the silence. He crouched near one of the larger wolves, inspecting its matted fur and massive paws. "You're quicker on your feet than I expected."
“Thanks,” I replied, trying to sound casual despite my thundering heart. The faint ache in my arm from where the wolf’s claws had raked across my leather bracers was a constant reminder that this wasn’t just some game. It felt real—dangerously so.
Sven leaned against the cave wall, his bow dangling loosely from one hand. “And here I thought we'd be babysitting the whole time. Color me impressed, milady.”
“Don’t push your luck, Sven,” I said with a tired smile, earning a laugh from him and a grunt of approval from Torvald.
“Don’t let him get to you,” Torvald rumbled, wiping the blood from his axe with a practiced ease. “Sven’s mouth is quicker than his brain most days.”
Eirik stood and glanced around the cave. His expression darkened as his gaze fell on the wolves’ glowing eyes, now dimmed but still unsettling. “This isn’t normal,” he said, his tone heavy.
“What do you mean?” I asked, sheathing my sword.
“These wolves weren’t just hungry,” he replied. “They were corrupted. It changes them—makes them stronger, more aggressive, less... natural.”
Torvald nodded. “We’ve seen it before. First, it’s the animals. Then the land itself starts to turn—rivers running black, crops dying, snow that burns instead of freezes. And then...” He trailed off, his jaw tightening.
“What happens then?” I prompted, feeling a chill unrelated to the cave’s cold air.
“Then it spreads to people,” Eirik said grimly. “I’ve seen men and women turned into monsters by it. Their eyes go the same way—glowing, like those wolves. Whatever’s causing this, it’s not something we can fight with just swords and axes.”
“What causes it?” I asked, my voice quieter now.
Sven spoke up, his tone uncharacteristically serious. “Depends on who you ask. Some say it’s the gods punishing us for abandoning the old ways. Others blame the ruins scattered across the North—places where the barrier between our world and... other things is thin.”
Eirik nodded. “Whatever it is, it’s been getting worse. Frostholm’s been lucky so far, but if the corruption’s reached this far north, it’s only a matter of time.”
Eirik stood and gestured to the wolves. “We’ll take the pelts. They're valuable, and the villagers could use the extra material.” He pulled a small, wickedly sharp knife from his belt and handed it to me.
“Let me guess,” I said, examining the blade. “You’re going to teach me how to skin a wolf?”
He smirked. “You catch on quick. Out here, nothing goes to waste. Watch closely.”
I knelt beside him as he began working on the wolf nearest us. His movements were deliberate and efficient, the knife slicing through fur and flesh with practiced precision. “Start at the legs,” he instructed, “and work your way up. Don’t go too deep, or you’ll ruin the hide.”
The process was grisly but oddly satisfying. The weight of the pelt in my hands was surprising—it was heavier than I’d expected, the fur thick and warm.
“How does the game make this feel so real?” I asked aloud, marveling at the texture of the fur beneath my fingers.
Sven shrugged, looking puzzled. He didn’t have a clue that he was an NPC in a virtual world.
Torvald grunted as he tied off his last pelt. “We’ve got enough to head back now.”
The walk back to Frostholm was quieter, the weight of the battle and our conversation lingering over the group. The snow fell steadily now, soft flakes catching in my hair and melting against my leather bracers. My muscles ached with every step, but the adrenaline hadn’t fully worn off.
“This corruption,” I said after a while, breaking the silence. “Does it affect all of Nytherra, or just the North?”
“It’s been spreading,” Eirik replied, his tone thoughtful. “The elders say it started in the ruins to the south—old temples and crypts that should’ve stayed buried. But now it’s everywhere, creeping into the wilds, the villages, even the cities.”
“Some say it’s Tharvak’s wrath,” Torvald added. “That we’ve angered the gods by forgetting the old ways.”
Sven snorted. “Or it’s just bad luck. Either way, blaming the gods won’t save us. Steel and strategy will.”
I glanced at Eirik. “Do you believe that? That it’s the gods?”
He was silent for a moment, his gaze fixed on the path ahead. “I believe the gods watch us, and they test us. But I don’t think they’re cruel enough to cause this. Whatever’s behind the corruption, it’s something darker.”
The sight of Frostholm’s smoke curling into the sky was a welcome one. The settlement seemed smaller now, its sturdy wooden buildings huddled together beneath a canopy of snow. Villagers moved about their tasks, their faces red from the cold, their movements brisk and efficient.
Eirik turned to me as we reached the square. “Take those pelts to Halda. She’ll know what to do with them. We’ll meet at the tavern later.”
I nodded, hoisting the bundle of pelts higher on my shoulder. The weight was uncomfortable but manageable.
As I approached Halda’s shop, I couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of accomplishment. The battle, the pelts, the walk through the snow—it had all felt real in a way no other game ever had. This world was alive, and for the first time, I felt like I belonged in it.
C𝐡a𝐩t𝐞r Ⅱ: 𝐄n𝐜o𝐮n𝐭e𝐫s i𝐧 𝐅r𝐨s𝐭h𝐨l𝐦
The crisp air stung my cheeks as I stepped out of the tavern, the scent of wood smoke and pine mingling with the metallic tang of wolf blood that still clung faintly to my tunic. Frostholm was bustling now. The quiet village I had left earlier had transformed into a hive of activity, with figures moving purposefully through the snowy streets.
At first glance, the newcomers blended seamlessly with the rugged villagers—each clad in furs and leather, their faces hardened against the relentless cold. But as I observed more closely, subtle differences emerged. Some carried weapons or wore armor that gleamed unnaturally, clearly marked by higher tiers or rare crafting. Others had a certain presence, a way of standing or moving that felt distinct.
The Fated, I realized, the word echoing in my mind.
I focused on one figure in the crowd, a tall woman dressed in intricately woven Vaelkir furs. A faint shimmer appeared above her head: a floating badge adorned with runic symbols, along with a health bar and an experience gauge partially filled with glowing light.
So that’s how it works, I thought, marveling at the seamless blend of game mechanics with the world’s realism. The interface wasn’t intrusive—it flickered gently, visible only when I concentrated.
As I walked toward Halda’s shop, I continued to scan the crowd. Player characters—The Fated—mingled with the people of the land, their badges popping into view as I focused on each of them. There were swordsmen, archers, spellcasters, and even a heavily armored knight whose experience bar was nearly at full capacity.
---
Halda looked up from her counter as I entered, her sharp eyes narrowing slightly in recognition. “Back again?” she said, her tone as gruff as ever.
“I’ve got pelts to sell,” I replied, untying the bundle from my shoulder and laying it on the counter. The smell of blood and fur filled the warm shop as she spread the pelts out for inspection.
She ran her hands over them, her practiced fingers testing the quality of each hide. “Good cuts,” she muttered. “You didn’t ruin them with sloppy work. That’s a rarity among newcomers.”
“I had help,” I admitted, thinking of Eirik and his companions.
Halda snorted. “Figures. Still, these’ll fetch a decent price.” She counted out a small stack of coins, their bronze and silver surfaces gleaming faintly in the firelight.
I pocketed the coins, noting how their weight felt satisfyingly real against my palm. “Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it,” Halda said, already turning her attention back to the dagger she was polishing. “And don’t die. I don’t like losing good customers.”
---
The tavern was livelier than it had been earlier. The fire in the hearth crackled brightly, its warmth spreading through the room and softening the edges of the cold that lingered just outside. The scent of roasted meat and spiced mead filled the air, mingling with the low hum of conversation and occasional bursts of laughter.
The room itself was a rustic marvel. Wooden beams crisscrossed the ceiling, their surfaces darkened with age and soot. The walls were adorned with hunting trophies—antlers, skulls, and the occasional sword or shield that bore the wear of past battles. The tables were sturdy and mismatched, each carved from a different type of wood, their surfaces scarred from years of use.
I took a seat at the bar, which was made of thick oak polished to a warm sheen. The bartender, a stocky man with a neatly trimmed beard and a sharp glint in his eye, approached with a curious look.
“What’ll it be?” he asked, his voice steady but inviting.
“What do you recommend?” I asked.
He smiled faintly, reaching for a tankard. “You’re new here. Start with mead. Sweet, strong, and warms you right up.”
I nodded, and moments later, he slid the tankard toward me. I took a cautious sip, expecting something syrupy and artificial. Instead, the mead was smooth, its sweetness balanced by a faint hint of spice. The warmth it left in my chest was immediate, spreading through me like a soft flame.
“Good, isn’t it?” the bartender said, his grin widening as he polished another glass.
“It’s amazing,” I admitted, marveling at how real it felt—the weight of the tankard in my hand, the faint stickiness of the liquid on my lips, the subtle buzz that began to creep into my mind.
---
As I sipped my mead, a voice spoke beside me. “Mind if I join you?”
I turned to see a tall man leaning casually against the bar. He was dressed in Vaelkir-style furs, but the glint of his badge above his head marked him as a player character. His experience bar hovered near full, and his badge displayed his name in bold runes: Aedan Thorne.
“Go ahead,” I said, gesturing to the seat beside me.
He sat, his movements relaxed and confident. “You’re new here,” he said, his tone friendly but curious. “I can always tell.”
“What gave it away?” I asked, taking another sip of mead.
“The way you’re looking at everything,” Aedan said with a chuckle. “Like you’re trying to memorize every detail. First time in a fully immersive game?”
“Yeah,” I admitted. “It’s... a lot.”
He nodded. “It is. But it’s worth it. Once you get the hang of it, there’s nothing else like it.”
We talked for a while, swapping stories about our experiences in Nytherra Unbound. Aedan had been playing since launch, and his character—a hunter aligned with the Vaelkir—was one he’d spent weeks refining.
“You ever tried archery?” he asked suddenly.
“No,” I said, frowning slightly. “Why?”
He grinned. “Because it’s a game-changer. Engaging enemies from range? Makes life a lot easier. If you’re interested, I could show you the basics.”
I hesitated for a moment, but his easy confidence and genuine enthusiasm were infectious. “Alright,” I said. “Why not?”
---
We stepped outside, the cold air biting at my skin again. Aedan untied a sleek black horse from the rail outside the tavern, its saddle laden with bags and weapons.
“Hop on,” he said, swinging himself into the saddle.
I hesitated for a second before climbing up behind him, my hands gripping the edge of the saddle. The horse snorted and shifted slightly before settling into a smooth gait as Aedan guided it out of the village.
We rode for a short while, the snowy landscape stretching out around us, until we reached a secluded clearing surrounded by tall pines.
Aedan dismounted and pulled a hunting bow from his saddlebag. “Here,” he said, handing it to me. “This one’s simple but reliable. Good for learning.”
The bow felt strange in my hands, its polished wood smooth against my fingers. Aedan guided me through the basics—how to nock an arrow, draw the string, and aim.
“Breathe steady,” he said as I raised the bow. “And don’t overthink it. Let the string do the work.”
I released the arrow, and it flew straight into the center of the makeshift target he’d set up—a tree with a faint cross carved into its bark.
“Not bad,” Aedan said, his grin widening. “You’re a natural.”
---
We practiced for what felt like hours, the repetitive motion of nocking arrows and releasing them becoming second nature. Aedan’s instructions were clear and patient, his voice steady as he guided me through finer details like adjusting my stance and following through with each shot.
“You’re picking this up faster than most,” he said, watching as my latest arrow struck just off-center on the target. “If you keep this up, you’ll be outshooting me in no time.”
I lowered the bow, a faint smile tugging at my lips. “Maybe I’m just a fast learner. Or maybe you’re a good teacher.”
Aedan chuckled, leaning casually against a tree. “I’ll take that as a compliment.” His eyes met mine, a spark of warmth in their hazel depths. “So, what brings someone like you to Nytherra Unbound? Most people jump in looking for something—glory, adventure, an escape.”
I hesitated for a moment, unsure how much to share. “I was... invited. Quantum Forge wanted me to promote the game, but I’m starting to think it’s more than just a job.”
“It always is,” Aedan said, his tone softening. “Games like this—they don’t just pull you in. They become part of you. The sights, the sounds, even the people. It’s more than a world; it’s a life.”
His words lingered in the cool air, and for a moment, we simply stood there, the forest around us quiet save for the faint rustle of the wind through the pines.
Aedan stepped closer, his gaze never leaving mine. “You know,” he said, his voice dropping slightly, “for a newcomer, you’re holding your own pretty well. Most first-timers I’ve met are either terrified or cocky. You’re... different.”
I raised an eyebrow, though I couldn’t help but smile. “Different how?”
“Confident, but grounded,” he said. “And maybe a little stubborn.”
“Maybe,” I replied, tilting my head. “But I’ve been told stubbornness is a survival skill.”
Aedan laughed softly, the sound warm and genuine. “True enough.”
For a moment, neither of us spoke. Then, as if drawn by some unspoken agreement, he leaned in, his hand brushing lightly against mine. I didn’t pull away.
---
The kiss was soft at first, tentative, as though testing the boundaries of this strange, immersive world. But as his lips pressed more firmly against mine, the line between reality and the game blurred even further.
I marveled at the sensation—the warmth of his breath, the faint roughness of his stubble, the way my pulse quickened as if this were all real. And in that moment, it was real. The forest, the snow, the kiss—it all felt impossibly vivid.
Aedan's courage continued to grow. His fingers hurriedly started to untie my clothes one by one. And I didn't stop him. He stopped kissing and pressed down on my shoulders, guiding me to kneel in front of him. I knelt down in front of him like he wished. Aedan took his cock out of his pants with his hand.
I hesitated a little, then grabbed the cock and took it in my mouth. The taste of the cock was exactly like in real life. A little salty, with a slight smell of sweat. I couldn't understand how this was achieved in a digitally recreated experience. I started to put his whole cock in my mouth and pull it out. I kept sucking with utmost interest. This was a new experience for me. He also started moaning in pleasure and pushing with his hips. He started to insert his cock deeper into my mouth. I kept his girth tightly sealed with my lips, while the bottom of his shaft rubbed on my tongue. Aedan took his cock out of my mouth, then motioned for me to turn around.
I turned back and got on all fours like a bitch, and lifted my ass up for him. I started swinging my ass in circles to entice him further. He too jumped on my rounded behind without wasting any more time. Aedan put the tip of his cock against my anus and started pressing gently. I didn't feel the searing pain that was reserved for taking a cock in the ass in real life. But I did enjoy the pleasure of his thick shaft spreading open my tight hole 100%, maybe even more. I think I'll get addicted to having sex in this game at this speed.
Aedan held my thick ass with both hands and pound it from behind. And I too started to push my hungry ass against his hips. After fucking me like this for a while, he pulled his cock out of my tranny pussy, walked around and stood in front of me, presenting his hard dong to my lips.
I opened my mouth and took his cock back into my mouth, and started sucking it. I looked up and met his eyes. He too looked into my eyes and started fucking my face. With one hand, he held the back of my head and started thrusting his cock hard into my throat. It didn't feel that uncomfortable to have my throat fucked in this virtual world. Aedan fucked my face for a while, then took his cock out of my mouth and made me stand up on my two feet.
I leaned forward and put my weight against a tree trunk, then pushed my ass backward for Aedan to fuck me some more. He took position behind me and thrust his cock back into my pussy in one stroke. Then he grabbed my waist with both hands and started pounding the inside of my ass. I too, like a cock-crazed whore, pushed my ass back and took his cock deeper and deeper. His hips were repeatedly smashing against my soft buttocks, and my body was tossed forward, only to be pulled back against his rod. He kept fucking me from behind, ploughing into my guts continuously.
Suddenly Aedan took his cock out of my ass. He was panting a lot. He was probably about to cum, so he decided to take a break and prolong the pleasure. I straightened up and put my fingers underneath my fat ass and started jiggling the pliant globes to tease him some. Aedan slapped my ass hard. And I jumped up, letting out a small yelp, a little in pain but mostly from the pleasure.
Aedan walked some distance and lay down on a piece of grass-covered ground, his cock was erect like a pole to attract my attention. I walked towards him and sat down on his waist; my back turned towards him. I held Aedan's cock with one hand and inserted it back inside my slippery hole. Leaning forward, I started riding his cock, presenting him with a full view of my rump.
Aedan started slapping and kneading my pliant ass while enjoying the sight of his shaft going in and out of my ass. After a while, I straightened up and turned around on his cock, then placed both hands on his chest and started moving up and down on his shaft once again. Holding my ass with both hands, Aedan helped moving my ass up and down his length. I leaned forward and started impaling myself on his hot rod. I was losing myself in pleasure. Aedan was also moaning.
After a while, he asked me to suck his cock again. I stood up from his cock and knelt down between his legs, then leaned forward and grabbed his cock with my right hand and put it into my mouth. I started sucking his cock eagerly, and licking and enjoying the taste of my ass on his shaft. I sucked him off like this for a while, then took the cock out of my mouth and started pulling on it with my right fist.
From Aedan's moans, it was clear that he was going to cum soon. And my guess was proven right. His cock jumped within my fist and a jet of cum spilled onto his stomach. Before more cum was wasted, I hurriedly leaned forward and took the tip of the cock into my mouth and started sucking on it as I kept pulling on his cock with my fist.
I sucked and drank his cum. The inside of my mouth was completely flooded with his warm cream. When the cum had dried up, I knelt forward and climbed back onto his lap, then helped his still eager cock back between my buttocks. I began riding his hard shaft once more. Aedan's spent cock was effortlessly going in and out of my ass, and was rubbing against that spot deep inside my ass.
I grabbed my own miniscule cock with my fingers and started pulling on it as I kept riding his shaft like a woman possessed. My head was spinning from the pleasure of having my ass ploughed so thoroughly. I too was very close. With an escaped groan from my lips and a jerk of my cock, I sprayed all the cum stored within my balls, flooding Aedan's chest and stomach with the slippery gunk. Aedan was groaning from the overstimulation of his sensitive cock as my inner muscles worked on him, while he kneaded my fat globes with both hands.
I leaned forward and kissed his lips. Aedan pushed his tongue into my mouth. After a while, when his cock started to lose its rigidity, I stopped grinding my hips and sat upright on his lap.
When we finally pulled apart, Aedan smiled, a touch of shyness creeping into his expression. “Sorry if that was... forward.”
“It’s fine,” I said, my voice softer than I expected. “I... wasn’t expecting it, but I don’t mind.”
The silence that followed was comfortable, the kind that didn’t need filling.
---
After a while, Aedan turned to his horse, rummaging through one of the saddlebags. “Here,” he said, pulling out a second bow. This one was slightly larger than the training bow, its polished wood inlaid with faint silver patterns.
“What’s this?” I asked, taking it from him.
“Consider it a gift,” he said. “It’s not top-tier or anything, but it’s reliable. A good bow can make all the difference out here.”
I ran my fingers over the smooth wood, the faint glow of the inlay catching the light. “Thank you,” I said, meaning it.
He shrugged, his easy grin returning. “Don’t mention it. Besides, if you’re going to keep practicing, you’ll need something better than that old training bow.”
I nodded, slinging the bow over my shoulder. “I’ll put it to good use.”
Aedan mounted his horse, extending a hand to help me up behind him. As we rode back toward Frostholm, I couldn’t help but reflect on the day. This world, this game, was more than I had ever imagined. It wasn’t just immersive—it was alive, in ways that were both exhilarating and unsettling.
---
The sun was dipping below the horizon by the time we returned to the village. Frostholm was bathed in the golden hues of twilight, its buildings casting long shadows across the snow. The air was colder now, but the warmth of the day lingered in my chest.
As we dismounted near the tavern, Aedan turned to me with a smile. “If you ever need more lessons—or anything else—you know where to find me.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I said, watching as he rode off toward the edge of the settlement.
I stood there for a moment, the new bow slung over my shoulder, before heading back into the tavern. The warmth and noise enveloped me immediately, a stark contrast to the quiet intimacy of the forest.
As I sat near the fire, sipping another mug of mead, I allowed myself a small smile. Nytherra Unbound had already proven itself to be more than just a game. It was a world waiting to be explored, its secrets as vast and complex as its landscapes.
And I was ready to uncover them all.
---
