Five full days had passed since they left the Dungeon. Aidas and Mosi were kept preserved throughout the journey back by constant applications of healing cards, which prevented decay. Interestingly, it did not heal the wounds they’d received; it only killed off any harmful bacteria that might further rot the bodies.

It was a quiet, solemn journey back to Sol. A vigil. Tristan had contemplated going on by himself, as he’d definitely be able to clear ground faster alone, but the value of companionship and information won out. Besides, he had time to spare until the start of the Elemental Cup.

On the first night, Tristan couldn’t remember who, but someone had started talking about their favorite memories of the two deceased. He’d felt awkward that first night, sitting around and chewing on his salted meat, feeling like an intruder.

A part of him was also a little disturbed at how quickly he’d gotten over seeing a dead person for the first time. He didn’t put much thought into that, however; this was a new world, filled with monsters and danger at every corner. He had adapted to this new reality the moment he killed that first squirrel.

Every night after, a new person shared their memories. Though Tristan hadn’t known Aidas at all, and barely knew Mosi, he felt he began to know both of them through the stories of those who loved them.

On the fifth night, the night before they were to arrive at Sol, Eila had spoken. Tristan laid on the ground, looking up at the stars through the thinning canopy, listening to her soft voice. He’d drifted off into sleep, thinking about his own family back home. Wondering if they missed him, if they were also telling stories about him.

Finally, on the sixth day, they arrived at Sol. The forest steadily faded until they broke out into the open. Sol occupied a massive wedge of the easternmost side of the island, facing the Continent. The town sat with its back to the raised edge of the island, the ocean spreading out before them, sparkling blue under the sun.

When he looked around, he could see the borders of the other four elemental biomes of the island; the Fire Fields to his left, Rushing Winds and Shoal Springs further to his right. All four biomes widened at the far end and narrowed as they approached the cleared zone around Sol.

He imagined the island as a pizza with a slice taken out of it. The empty space was where Sol occupied, and the rest of the pizza was split into the four distinct environments.

A large stone wall surrounded the outer edge of the town. He’d remembered this being here from the game, but the town itself looked much larger than before; clearly, expansion had been done in the transition between the game and the real world.

They stepped out from the boundary of the Great Woods and onto a well-maintained road. It connected with the roads leading out from the other biomes, all of them feeding directly into the town. There were some people out and about, groups of cardbearers excitedly venturing into the different areas. They gave some glances at Tristan and the others as they passed.

A few of them, the older ones, nodded in consolation at the sight of Aidas and Mosi in their arms.

“Hey,” Eila said, dropping down beside him. Her eyes were bloodshot and had deep bags under them. Tristan had heard her crying softly each night. “What’s your plan once we get inside?”

It was a good question. Tristan wasn’t entirely sure. “I need to book travel to Advance.” He shrugged. “Other than that? Sell some of my [Blueprints] and random junk I collected. Buy some cards, maybe some new equipment if I can afford it. I also need to rank-up to Adept, so I should find a forger who can do that.”

Eila, strangely, glared at him. He was confused as to why, until it dawned on him and he laughed. “Oh, right. I guess I already did. Would you be willing to forge my Adept card? It’s Earth, though.” He summoned the [Slumbering Stalagmites Blueprint] and handed it to her.

She snatched the card out of his hand, inspecting it eagerly. He could hear her mutter to herself as she studied the [Blueprint], something about heating distribution and wide brushstrokes. She paused, looked at him eyeing her with amusement, and pinked.

“No problem,” she murmured, handing the [Blueprint] back with faux-nonchalance. He snorted and stored it away. “Are you ready for the Advancement Trial, though?”

Tristan opened his mouth to respond, but she shook her head, cutting him off. “What am I saying?” she said. “Of course you are.”

They continued on in silence for a bit. The wall was much larger up close; it towered a good twenty feet into the air, cross-crossed with veins of what looked like Earth energy. Atop its ramparts were various men and women in brown uniforms. Decks swirled around them.

Guards. An island like this, surrounded on one side by four distinct hostile environments, took its security seriously. He remembered in the game that every guard NPC was at least Apprentice; he wondered if it was the same here.

A large open gate was set into the middle of the wall, which the road led directly to.

“By the way,” she said, “why do you want the [Perk Reset Card]?”

He blinked, turning to her.

“It was one of your questions you asked us back in the forest,” she said. “I was wondering about it.”

“Oh, right. My current build is Dark offensive and Earth supportive due to circumstances. But I actually want to use Water offensively and Dark supportively.”

She gestured excitedly to herself. “Wait! I’m a Water and Dark forger!”

“I’m aware,” he said wryly. I wish you could be my forger, he thought. But with [New Game Plus], I’ll be progressing too quickly for you. He’ll just have to pay forgers on the Continent to forge his rank-up cards once he got to that point, though he wasn’t sure exactly how that worked in the real world.

She stared at him, an odd expression in her gaze, then turned away, seeming lost in thought. He left her to it, returning his focus to the town.

“I’ll forge the card for you after… after the funeral,” Eila said, drawing him out of his reverie. “I’ll also take you to a good place to sell and buy your cards.”

She was staring ahead at Aidas, being carried gently by Varya. His face had been covered by a thin cloth, as had Mosi’s. Their [Binders] laid atop their chests, strapped in place with rope.

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

Apparently there was some sort of ritual or tradition where the loved ones of the deceased took over their cards after the funeral procession. That had not been a feature of the game, as the only method of acquiring another person’s cards was through trade or a Duel.

The ramifications of being able to take another person’s cards through killing them was sobering. Varya had mentioned it earlier when they first met, but now he clearly understood the danger in showing other people his cards. Cards in a deck upon death could not be taken, however. Those died with the cardbearer.

Realizing he hadn’t responded, Tristan quickly nodded. “Take your time. I’m not in a rush.”

That was a lie—he was most definitely in a rush. But eight, nine days alone in the forest wasn’t enough to kill his social skills. Besides, he liked Eila. He wasn’t about to be an asshole and insist she forge his cards now, or go find another forger. He had the sense she wanted to do it herself, as a thank you for saving her in the boss room.

“I trust you have the required materials?” EIia asked.

“Yup. I lucked out.”

He felt her eye him, but he kept his face straight. He learned during the second day back from the Dungeon that he had gotten a lot more loot from the boss than the others. Even more than Duran, who realistically had done the lion’s share of participation in the fight. He’d managed to lie and adjust his loot to a little more than Varya’s, and everyone had seemed to believe him.

Everyone except Eila. That one was too smart to trick easily.

They approached the open gate, where two guards stood outside. One look at Duran carrying Mosi, however, and they hastily waved them through.

They entered the town. Tristan tried his best to not gawk, but it was difficult. This was his first settlement in the new world, after all. He’d remembered barely paying attention to the town in the game as he wanted to just get off the beginner island by that point and head to the Continent. Now, actually being here, he wanted to take it all in.

This first section of the town closest to the walls seemed to house the barracks for the Sol Guard. Large, sturdy buildings were arranged in neat rows, with sections attached to house the families of the guards.

The town widened the further back it went, and soon he began to see the clean order of the army give way to the chaos of residential housing. Wooden houses were clumped together in disorganized neighborhoods with well-paved roads cutting between them. Quaint, ornamental trees dotted the streets at regular intervals.

Restaurants, inns, pubs, and stores popped up at every corner, along with people in stalls hawking various wares. Tristan glanced at one as he passed by; the vendor was an old, wizened woman selling a random assortment of Novice cards.

As Duran led them back to the Guild, which was situated in the western side of the town, close to the cliff edge, Tristan found himself feeling a little disappointed. All in all, Sol looked and felt very similar to any suburban town back on Earth.

Then they turned a corner, and he almost got trampled by a flaming horse. Eila managed to pull him out of the way just in time as the person riding on top galloped past.

“Watch where you’re going, asshole!” Varya shouted over her shoulder.

Tristan stamped down the urge to ask what the hell that was; a question like that would raise questions, as he’d ostensibly would be familiar with such a thing. He’d lied that he was from the Continent, so that gave him some leeway with ignorance, but he still needed to be careful.

Instead, he looked at Eila and said, “Thanks. It’s the worst when that happens, isn’t it?”

Eila shook her head in disgust. “Tell me about it. The Mayor needs to pass that law banning Summons in town, as soon as possible.”

Tristan nodded along in agreement, though he had no idea what she was talking about. In the game, certain Summons could be ridden as mounts, but he wasn’t sure how that translated in this real world.

They continued on, Tristan now wary of every corner they came across. They’d passed two young boys—Novice-rank, judging by their decks—Dueling in an alleyway, their friends gathered around them, whooping and jeering. He wanted to stop and watch, fascinated, but Eila had pulled him along.

Soon, they arrived at the guildhall. It was a modest, two-story building, fashioned out of the same white stone as the others. Above the doorway was a sign that read: “The Straight Path Guild.” Tristan realized that he actually didn’t know the name of the Guild until now.

They entered. A warm living room greeted Tristan, complete with a kitchen and dining room at the back, couches to the right, and a small reading area to the left. The guildhall seemed more like a house than an organization; it made sense, as this particular Guild felt more like a family than strangers banded together under a name.

In the game, Tristan had primarily been a solo player. He dabbled in some Guilds early on, but he ran into the problem of progressing quicker than the other members each time, so he just stopped once when he reached Master.

Duran and Varya gently laid down the bodies of their fallen companions on a large table in the middle of the room.

A moment of silence fell through the room. Duran rubbed his face and seemed to deflate.

“All right,” he said at last, looking at the gathered members. “Everyone, go back to your homes and rest. Tell those who wish to come to meet at the guildhall tonight for Aidas’s funeral. I’ll go speak with Mosi’s son, then tell the Mayor’s office that we cleared the Dungeon.” He turned to Tristan. “I’ll also tell them what you told me about the regeneration time.”

Tristan nodded. He had to lie and say that he received a message from the System telling him about the Dungeon’s regeneration status.

“Where are you staying?” Duran continued.

“Uhh,” Tristan said, his mind scrambling. “I’m staying at an inn nearby.”

The Guildmaster shook his head firmly. “You’ll stay here. It’s the least we can do, after all you’ve done for us.”

Everyone turned to him then, nodding. Tristan blushed a little under their grateful eyes and murmured his thanks.

“Good.” Duran took a deep breath. “We’ll meet back here at sunset. Tristan, come with me. I’ll show you your room.”

The others trailed out. Varya clapped him on the shoulder as she went, and Marr surprisingly gave him a quick hug. Genn nodded, and Eila gave him a sad smile. The door shut behind them, and Tristan followed Duran upstairs.

The Guildmaster led him down a hallway into a vacant room. It was small but cozy, a bed set against the side, a desk and closet opposite the bed, and a window looking out at the town.

“Bathroom’s across the hall if you need,” Duran said. “There’s food and drinks in the kitchen. The food will probably be cold, but you can heat it up using a fireplate. They’re in the cupboards above the sink.”

Tristan of course had no idea what a fireplate was, but he just nodded in thanks.

The two of them stood there awkwardly. Duran looked like he was wrestling with something.

“Would you like to join the Guild?” he said suddenly.

Tristan blinked. He hadn’t been expecting this. His answer though was quick.

He shook his head. “I think you have a wonderful Guild, Duran. Under different circumstances, I would’ve loved to join. But my path doesn’t end here at Sol.”

Duran nodded. “I figured. I thought I’d still ask.” He held his hand out.

Tristan took it and shook.

“Thank you for your help,” the older man said. His eyes started tearing up. “I… I fear if you hadn’t shown up, we would’ve lost more than Mosi.” Duran bent his head and swallowed roughly. “Sorry.” He rubbed his eyes and left, softly closing the door behind him.

Tristan stood there for a moment. Exhaustion suddenly swept over him, and he turned to the bed.

Holy shit, he thought. A bed.

He stripped off his equipment, collapsed on the bed, and promptly fell asleep.