Chương 8: People of Eteria

The first thing that smacked me in the face, aside from the lingering smell of old stone and horse manure, was the fact that everyone was wearing a floating digital headband. Well, not literally, but every person in my line of sight had glowing text hovering right above their skulls like they were all part of some massive, kingdom-wide augmented reality prank. [Native: Level 11.] I squinted at a patrolling knight who was clanking past me in enough plate armor to make a scrap metal yard jealous.

He looked serious, grizzled, and very capable of poking a hole in me if I breathed wrong. Then, I glanced down at a tiny kid who was darting through the crowd, probably on his way to cause some medieval mischief. [Native: Level 1.] In any other context, I would have just called them NPCs and started looking for the guy with the yellow exclamation mark over his head, but seeing it in person was different. Calling them Non-Player Characters felt like a bit of an insult to their existence.

These people did not have jerky animations or recycled voice lines; they looked, smelled, and acted completely real. They were living their lives, chatting, bartering, and probably wondering why a guy in a hoodie was staring at their foreheads like a total weirdo. Just as I was starting to think I was the only weirdo in town, I spotted the other side of the guest list. Scattered among the locals were people who stood out like neon signs in a dark alley. [Player: Level 15.] This title was hovering over a guy who looked like he had spent way too much time at the gym and even more time at a blacksmith. He was hauling a sword and shield that looked heavy enough to give a normal person a hernia, walking with the kind of swagger that screamed "I have definitely killed things today." [Player: Level 21.] Not far off, I clocked a woman who was currently haggling over a row of glowing glass bottles.

She was clutching a staff that looked like it could probably turn me into a toad if I looked at it funny, and her focus on those potions was intense. She was clearly playing the high-level survival game while I was still trying to remember how to stand up straight. [Player: Level 3.] Then, I saw the other end of the spectrum. A guy was slumped nearby in clothes that looked like they had been through a paper shredder and then left out in the rain.

He was holding out a hand for spare change, looking like he had experienced a very bad first day at the office. This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience. These were the players. My people. The chosen ones. We were all participants in this cosmic dungeon marathon, though looking at the guy begging for coins, I realized the "chosen" part did not necessarily come with a dental plan or a guaranteed paycheck.

We were all just trying to navigate this bizarre fantasy reality one level at a time. I was so busy gawking at the high-level elites and the local medieval residents that I completely forgot I wasn't the only one who had just survived a high-altitude plummet into the city square. It was like I had been so focused on the seasoned pros at the finish line that I'd ignored the chaotic mess at the starting blocks.

Right there with me, huddled inside the glowing yellow boundaries of the landing circle, was a fresh batch of recruits. We were the literal definition of a mixed bag. I looked around and realized the "New Player Experience" hits everyone a little differently. On one side, you had the adrenaline junkies. These guys were practically vibrating with excitement, punching the air and grinning like they'd just won a golden ticket to the world's most dangerous theme park.

They were already talking about legendary loot and epic quests, probably picturing themselves on the cover of a fantasy magazine before they'd even taken a step off the magic platform. Then, there was the less-than-heroic side of the spectrum. A few people were curled up into pathetic little balls of misery, sobbing like someone had just told them Christmas was canceled forever. I couldn't really blame them; having your reality deleted and being dropped into a monster-infested dungeon game isn't exactly a spa day.

But the ones that really caught my eye were the statues. There were a handful of players who were just… frozen. They stood there with their eyes wide and their mouths slightly open, looking like their brains had hit a critical error and were waiting for a reboot that wasn't coming. They were so paralyzed by sheer, unadulterated panic that a dragon could have landed right in front of them and they wouldn't have even blinked.

It looks like this cosmic transit system operates on a first-come, first-served basis rather than a synchronized grand opening. Some of these guys have clearly been hanging around Eteria long enough to grow beards and master the local brooding techniques, giving them a massive head start in the race to not die. They have that "I've seen things you wouldn't believe" look in their eyes, while I still have the "I just fell from the sky and my hoodie is inside out" look.

Then there were the fresh-off-the-boat types like me, still blinking away the vertigo and trying to remember how to breathe. Honestly, though, the whole first-mover advantage thing didn't really bother me. I wasn't here to win a popularity contest; I was just trying to make sure I didn't end up as a cautionary tale on a loading screen. While I was busy sizing up the competition, the digital voice in my head decided it was time for my orientation to continue.

[You are instructed to manifest your personal Status Interface to facilitate your preparations. This action can be executed through a simple mental command.] I gave it a shot, focusing my brain on the idea of a character sheet like I was trying to open a menu in a VR game. It worked instantly. A shimmering, nearly transparent blue screen flickered into existence right in front of my face, hovering in the air with all the weight of a soap bubble.

It was packed with rows of text and numbers, finally laying out all my personal secrets for me to see. I took a second to squint at the glow, ready to see exactly how much of a level one scrub I actually was. ••••• NAME: Arthur Gray LEVEL: 1 MAIN CLASS: Gunner SUBCLASS: NONE HP: 10 MP: 10 Gold: 0 •••••• [STATS] VITALITY: 1 INTELLIGENCE: 1 STRENGTH: 1 DEXTERITY: 1 AGILITY: 1 AVAILABLE STAT POINTS: 5 ••••• SKILLS: UNIQUE SKILL: REARM. PASSIVE: ACTIVE: Arcane Discharge (T1).

••••• EQUIPMENT: MAIN WEAPON: Revolver— Training Prototype-7 (T0) SECONDARY WEAPON: HEAD: ARMOR: LEGGINGS: GLOVES: BOOTS: RING: NECKLACE: EARRING: •••••