Cal typed silently into the computer.
The silence of the library, the smell of fresh pages and the tinkling sound of chatter.
It was a touching comfort to yesterday.
He sipped his coffee, eyes following his monthly report
A voice interrupts his work, "Hey, Cal!" A young man slides into view.
"Good morning, Miles."
Miles smiled, "So? How was it? Did you try it?"
"I got your gift." He narrowed his eyes, "It was chaotic and destructive… I got lost."
Miles laughed, "No way, you didn't even check the guide?"
"It threw me in there, without a tutorial." He threw a stress ball at him.
"So!? Did you have fun!?" He asked excitedly. "Where were you even?"
"Caldenheim." Cal muttered.
"No way!? Were you there? Did you meet the Demon of Caldenheim?"
"The Demon of Caldenheim?" Cal asked, heart racing.
"Yup! There's this video! Everyone's seen it! The dude's a total monster."
Cal stared at the white haired, red eyed man standing over the burning trench.
The thumbnail froze on his bloody grin—wide, wild and unrepentant.
The sight is like a war god descending into madness.
Cal felt something in his chest stir.
Like the sight made him reminisce about things he shouldn't.
He had buried that past, at least he thought he did.
He sipped his coffee, dousing the heat in his cheeks.
His mouth tugged at a smile. "That game seems violent for someone your age."
"Oh, c'mon! I'm eighteen you're like what? Forty?"
Cal' eye twitched, "I'm twenty five."
"The glasses and the hair make you look like a tired professor."
Cal sighed. "Ah yes, the perfect-looking man himself. How could I forget."
Miles snorted, "Good enough to get a girlfriend, you?"
"It is a choice, my choice."
"Sure, old man." He rested his chin on his arm, "So? You're playing again?"
"...Maybe."
"Pfft, you got thrown into a siege. Of course, you'd think so."
"Why do you even play that game? It feels quite violent."
"Cash prize." Miles remarked.
"Cash prize?"
"Yup, after every war there's this contribution list. The top One hundred gets like a hundred thousand at the start. The cash prize gets bigger the more people watch."
"Watch?"
"Yeah—MagicKrieg's got an official page. Highlights, stats, news updates, 24/7 war streams. You can get famous. Like the Demon of Caldenheim. Heard the guy was a total noob, then—BAM—instant legend."
"And what happens if they get famous?"
"Well, they start streaming or they get voted in. I heard it turns into a different game by then though. The higher you go up."
"You decide supplies, strategy and the politics—man." Miles leaned in, "Auricia's brutal right now—three guilds fighting for control. It's full-on political warfare."
"That sounds like trouble."
"Oh yeah, definitely. Even the Siege of Caldenheim was because the Imperialists refuses to help the Nationalists. And then there's—"
A bell cut him off as it rang. Miles widened his eyes and sprinted. "See you!"
Cal waved fondly as he sipped his coffee, mind abuzz with a single thought.
Should he play that game again?
He tapped his keyboard, suddenly aware of what he had done.
He had promised himself he was done with that world—sworn off the violence, the destruction.
But his body remembered.
The adrenaline.
The catharsis.
The desire for violence.
He hated himself for it.
But he yearned for it all the same.
He sighed, he had the rest of the day to think about it.
And now standing in his room, after having a thinking shower.
He still couldn't really make a decision.
Cal stared at the VR headset, pursing his lips as he dried his hair.
Well, it's not like he's actually back, right?
He might be enjoying the violence, but that doesn't mean he's back in his old life.
And maybe, he could just enjoy this game like all the other kids his age.
There's really nothing else about it. Just don't tell his father
And his mother would probably laugh at him though.
Besides what could possibly go wrong?
He's just dipping his toes in.
Testing the waters.
"Ahh, fuck it." He grabbed the headset and slammed himself back in.
His eyes fading to black before he opened to a sky soaked in ash.
He looked around the earth gouged in explosions as the smell of flames lingered.
An uneasy silence hung around the air.
Cal looked around—no Schneizel looked at the trenches.
Bunkers now scattered across the trenches.
"So… I suppose you're back? Demon?" A familiar voice asked.
Schneizel turned to meet her, her eyebrow raised. A smirk on her lips.
"Angel." he grinned, "Well, what can I say?"
She tossed him a gun, "Catch."
He caught it and asked, "We have guns now?"
"After your little stunt, yesterday. Caldenheim got to the front page. The generals scrambled to send reinforcements and our logistics guys rushed in just to meet you." She slams the magic stone inside the gun. "You know how to use one, right?"
"Of course." He clicked the stone in, "What exactly does this do?"
"Think of the pendant as some kind of sidearm." She pockets a pendant.
"Ooh, the magic core is the gun." He tested the weight and aimed down sight. "So does the same magic apply?"
"Yep, barrier, heal and fireball." She nodded.
"Meet my—what now?"
Angel strode forward, "You saw the notice didn't you? They've sworn themselves to you."
He froze, "Seriously? I mean I don't even."
"I've sworn myself to you as well, you know." She muttered.
"Wait? What? Why?"
"Well, it looked fun."
"Wait, who do I answer to then?"
She narrowed her eyes, "You know, there's an available guide on the internet, right?"
He blinked, "Well, I was busy."
"Maybe I made a mistake." Angel sighed and tapped the side of her head, as her voice echoed in his mind. 'If you open your comms there's various channels there, and since you're a banner commander, you answer to the nearest highest officer.'
"A banner commander? Ah wait." He tapped the side of his head. The comm interface bloomed in his vision with comms and maps. 'A banner commander?'
'Yes, you're not part of the official hierarchy. Since people sworn themselves to you. You decide everything within your army.'
"So, you'll be my lieutenant?"
She waved off the notice. "But I'm pretty sure I already am though. Since I was the only officer sworn to you. I already had them organized." She tapped the side of her head and sighed. "And I suppose you should meet your men. They're…excited."
"Why'd you say it like that."
"Say it what?"
"You said it weird."
"I did not." Angel replied, quicker like hiding something.
"You definitely did."
"Ok, I did. Because I'm sure you attracted the right people after their shovel-wielding war god decapitated a dozen men and burnt a company to ash. I'm sure that totally attracts the sane people.
"I mean that's a bit much and shovel wielding war god? I don't think."
"You decapitated a guy with a shovel." Angel deadpanned. "Then you burned a bunch of men while grinning with blood splattered all over your face. You are trending."
"...Seriously?"
"You got into the MagicKrieg news. A new star of Auricia. There's remixes of your 'BARRIERS!' all over the internet."
"I hate the internet."
"Too late, your world eaters are waiting for you."
"Was that a 40k reference?" He raised an eyebrow.
She answered by kicking him into the trench.
Schneizel hit the dirt with a grunt.
Then Silence
He looked up and a crowd stared back.
Soldiers—at least fifty, maybe more stood around like a congregation mid-sermon. All of them in mismatched uniforms, caked in soot and mud, praying on shovels like some kind of cross.
A banner fluttered overhead, a bloody skull with crossed shovels.
"He has returned!" One knelt.
"LIke the Angel has foretold!" Another gasped.
"His descent was magnificent!"
Schneizel blinked—blinked harder. "Wait, what!?"
A shovel gripped in his hand as he knelt to him, "This thine shovel, Blood God."
He narrowed his eyes and took the shovel, "Who started this?"
"Your Angel, Blood God. She spoke to us, your lost lambs and united us in your image."
"When did she say this?"
"About ten minutes ago."
"See children! It is as I foretold!" Angel appeared atop them.
"You kicked me!" Schneizel shouted.
"It was a divine kick!"
"A divine kick!" The crowd gasped.
"Let thine be written with your God's commandment." Angel raised her hand as if divine providence.
His men knelt once more, meditating upon his mysteries.
"Ok, let's calm down! She's messing with you and I was just winging it."
Angel shouted, "As it was foretold!"
Schneizel grabbed her feet and dragged her down.
He whispered angrily. "What are you doing?"
"I am simply helping your apostles!" She shouted turning to them "So that they may better understand your word."
"You are enjoying this, aren't you?"
She smirked, her blue eyes glinting in mirth. "I am."
Schneizel sighed as a voice echoed in his mind, 'Can anyone please help? We need all available hands and units to repair the trenches here on the left flank.'
A thought occurred to him. "Are we still in Caldenheim?"
"Yup." Angel nodded. "You respawn from where you logged out."
"We're still in a siege?"
"Yup."
The night sky turned red as fireballs blotted out the sky.
"You know, you probably should have told me that earlier."
"Oh, that's not the only thing I haven't told you."
A magic circle bloomed across the trench in evanescent glow.
The same voice—flat, resigned—spoke in his mind. 'Nevermind.'