Endless Nevergarden: MMO Light Novel

“In 2032, a form of neural integration was suddenly introduced into the commercial scene. Nicknamed SYNAPS, it changed the landscape of gaming overnight.”

****

A figure crested the top of a lonely hill, shielding his eyes with his hand as he gazed below. Gentle rolling plains stretched out as far as one could see. The long grass swayed in the breeze, as if beckoning, and off in the distance the outline of a distant village could be seen.

The person smiled, lowering his hand and closing his eyes. He could feel the heat of the sun upon his skin, and the pungent tang of summer grass filled his nostrils. It hinted at warmth and security, of secret places and untold stories.

It felt so real.

On impulse he pulled the sword from the scabbard on his hip. The blade gleamed in the setting sun. He placed the weapon against his forearm and with a bit of pressure sliced a thin furrow across it, drawing a line of blood that trickled down his arm and off his fingertips.

Drip, drip.

A green bar appeared in the top-left portion of his vision. It shook and a small portion of the bar was replaced with red. It had to be his Hit Points (HP), a measure of his health used by games as a way of keeping track of damage.

If it reached zero, he'd die.

Anyone who had ever played a game knew this, but that wasn't what he was testing.

Despite everything else that he was able to experience, the sharp pain he should have felt didn't exist. There was a slight tingle in his arm, but that was it.

“So, you can't feel pain in this world, huh?” The figure muttered to himself.

It made sense.

He doubted that people would play a game that was entirely realistic. Swords and sorcery are far less interesting if there is real repercussions to using them.

The man sheathed his sword and reached down, grabbing a handful of grass. He could feel every individual strand between his fingers, threatening to slip out with even the slightest of movement. He suddenly opened his palm, and a strong breeze lifted the grass from his hand, twisting and spinning along the currents to the valley below.

He breathed deeply, relishing the experience one last time before gingerly beginning to pick his way down the hill to the town below. Adventure was in the air and he was powerless to resist it any longer.

“This world...is quite beautiful.”

****

“Sire, are you an adventurer?”  An old man was leaning against a rickety cart,  wringing his hands as his eyes flicked side-to-side.

“Well, yes...I guess I am?”

The person smiled brightly, his distress temporarily vanishing. “Could I have your name?”

“My name, huh? Um, it's...” The adventurer paused, considering.

This obviously had to be part of the initial quests. They were asking him to essentially name his character. But unfortunately, he hadn't really thought of a name yet. After a few agonizing moments, he blurted out the first thing that came to mind, “My name's Meliadol.”

“Meliadol? That's a nice name. Are you sure its your name though?”

The adventurer shrugged this time, not bothered in the slightest; this was in familiar territory. The system was asking him to confirm his name choice. He looked at the non-player character (NPC) for a moment. It was very realistic. He could even see the old man breathing if he stared hard enough. Part of him wanted to poke the NPC with his sword, just to see if he bled too. But he was sure the game would punish him if he did so.

“Yes, that's my name.”

“Name saved.” the NPC's expression changed for a moment, becoming robotic, before changing back to that of a simple country folk, “Well, Meliadol, it is truly a blessing that you arrived at such a time!”

“Yeah? Why's that?”

“I'd like to hire your sword to get rid of a problem for me.” Meliadol perked up. A quest? The elderly peasant gestured toward the cart. “My farm has been attacked last night by goblins. I fled with what I could take, but I'd like to get my land back.”

It wasn't a hard choice.

“I accept. Where will I find your farm and these goblins?” Meliadol was curious as to how realistic these NPCs could be.

“My farm is about ten-span to the north.” The NPC jerked a thumb behind him, “As for the goblins...I don't know where they are coming from. Perhaps you could find clues at the farm. They'll be a bonus if you can get rid of whatever hole those bastards came from.”

“Deal!” The two shook hands, and Meliadol couldn't help but notice how warm the NPC's hands were. They were coarse, like leather. A working man's hand.

“Oh, one more thing!” The NPC said as Meliadol started walking, “Keep an eye open for my son, will you? He went back to see how much damage was done and hasn't returned yet.”

“Will do!”

And with that, Meliadol continued on his way, throwing the old man a wave out of habit as he left.  He wasn't sure how far “ten-span” was in game, but he was sure it couldn't be that bad. This was the beginning area after all. As he walked, he considered the NPC that had given him the quest. The man had responded realistically to Meliadol's prompts. Had he not known better, he would swear he had been interacting with an actual person instead of an NPC created for the game.

Meliadol kept to the roads, occasionally consulting the sun to make sure he was going the right direction. In no time at all, he saw smoke rising in the distance. Meliadol sprinted toward it, skidding to a stop as he arrived at a clearing.

Disaster was the only way one could describe it. The barn and house were aflame, burning angrily. Meliadol crouched behind the bushes, waiting to see if there were still goblins. But nothing came out, and after waiting few more tense minutes, Meliadol carefully stepped forth to see what he could find.

It was even worse when he was up close. Everything not on fire had been smashed, deliberately destroyed with almost juvenile maliciousness. The contents of the house had been strewn about, scattered like leaves on the wind.

The smell of the smoke was unpleasant, and Meliadol circled around, trying to keep upwind. It was then that he noticed something in a patch of mud along the perimeter. A footprint that was too small to be a person.

Goblins!

Now that he was looking specifically for them, he could see many more prints strewn about the farmstead. They all seemed to be headed toward a specific direction.

This was too easy.

With his sword out, Meliadol followed the tracks.

****