The walk to Cornelia was a blur of surreal landscapes and internal panic. Every rustle in the tall grass made my hand fly to the hilt of the sword—a weapon I had no idea how to actually use. My muscles ached with a phantom residue of electricity, a reminder of the lightning strike that had catapulted me from a rainy sidewalk into a 16-bit fever dream made flesh.
As the stone walls of the castle city rose from the horizon, the sheer scale of it hit me. This wasn't a collection of sprites on a glowing screen; it was a sprawling fortress of weathered granite and bustling marketplaces. The air smelled of woodsmoke, roasting meat, and manure.
At the gates, the guards didn't even ask for ID. They looked at the dull glow of the crystal fragment hanging from my belt and stood at attention.
"The Prophecy," one whispered, his eyes wide with a mix of awe and pity. "The King has been expecting you, Warrior."
I was led through the winding streets toward the high castle.
People stopped and stared. I noticed something immediately: the crowd was almost entirely female. Knights in polished plate armor, merchants haggling over silk, and even the street urchins darting between stalls—all women. It reminded me of the strange rules of the world I'd somehow slipped into. Aside from a few outliers like myself, this realm seemed tipped toward one side of the scale.
The throne room was cavernous, draped in red banners bearing the crest of the dragon. King Jane (a formidable woman with a crown of woven silver) sat upon the throne, her expression grim.
"You are late, Warrior," she said, her voice echoing off the vaulted ceiling. "The dark knight Garland has abducted my daughter, Princess Sarah. He hoards her within the Temple of Fiends to the north."
"Garland," I repeated. The name triggered a mental walkthrough. Level 3 or 4. Use Cure on the party. Focus fire. But here, there were no menus. No "Wait" mode. Just a heavy sword and the very real possibility of dying before I even reached the second game.
"I can't do this alone," I said, my voice cracking. "The prophecy mentioned four warriors."
The Queen gestured to the side. Emerging from the shadows were three others. One carried a staff tipped with a white orb; another wore the heavy, fur-lined vest of a monk; the third was draped in robes the color of fresh blood, a pointed hat obscuring her eyes.
"They arrived this morning," the Queen explained. "They, too, bear the crystals. You are the final piece, Alex."
I looked at my new companions. They weren't just avatars; they were breathing people, looking at me with the same terrified uncertainty I felt. We were a ragtag group of strangers tasked with killing a knight who could supposedly "knock us all down."
"To leave this place," I whispered to myself, "I have to win."
I gripped the hilt of my sword. The steel was cold, but the crystal at my side began to pulse with a faint, rhythmic heat—almost like a heartbeat.