Chapter 4 | A First Dive into Sashtasha's Sorrow

  Midgard. YGGDRASIL. 2128.

  5 Days After Genesis.

  The serene aftermath of ManMan's first demonic chicken hunt was blissfully, blessedly uneventful. No midnight operations, no phantom aches— just the quiet hum of hospital machinery and the glorious, uncomplicated grind of her first VR game.

  Her new friends, the wonderfully monstrous Nine's Own Goal clan members, had been unanimous in their advice post the chickens' bloodletting: "Do the MSQ, ManMan-san! (???)☆"

  According to them, the Main Scenario Quest chain was the beating heart of YGGDRASIL— the source of its well-written lore, its epic (and legendary) soundtracks, and most practically, all the game's major features. The only catch, as their local Bird-Man Peroroncino had gravely informed her with a dramatic flap of his wings, was the sheer, soul-crushing length of it all.

  "The Writing Team went totally feral, ManMan-san. Chapter One alone— 'A Realm Reforged, An Answer Unanswered'— has over a thousand quests. A thousand (╯°□°）╯︵ ┻━┻!!"

  He was not kidding.

  On Monday, she had woken up, aced her medical tests with record speeds, and logged in with the zeal of an Olympic diver on a mission to achieve the perfect dive. Five days later, her quest log was a bloated beast, and her character's feet were sore from pixelated travel. She had spent the week as Midgard's most eager— and slightly bewildered— errand girl, dutifully running… everywhere.

  The story itself was to ManMan a grand and thoroughly enjoyable epic: After the First Cataclysm, where the primordial horror that was devouring the World Leaves had been defeated, the realms of Midgard were too busy bickering over scarce resources to properly rebuild.

  Enter stage right: an immortal sorcerer-king from Muspelheim and his worlds-ending super-weapon, the Ultima Weapon. Cue the invasion, and voila, the MSQ. By her fifth day, Manman had personally delivered roughly fifty letters, collected a hundred livers, skin and appendages of various Midgard fauna, and had the tour routes of every major city-state memorised. She could totally see why veterans like Peroroncino viewed the MSQ grind as a "Sisyphean nightmare (′-﹏-； )`."

  ManMan, however, was having the time of her life.

  For her, YGGDRASIL's quests were not a drag, but instead, they were like a revelation. Since childhood, Lanyue's world had been a gilded cage of pampered confinement. A simple trip to the convenience store triggered a full-scale security panic among her family's staff.

  "Lady Xia! You mustn't venture out! The public is so… public! Potential tramps, malodorous office salarymen, and the dreadful plebian crowds! Allow us to procure your sparkling water!"

  And heaven forbid she expressed a desire to, say, walk through a city park, a hiking trail, or anywhere that was not layered with a stretch of perfectly-maintained pavement

  "Athlete Xia Lanyue! Absolutely not! The terrain is highly irregular! What if there is a concealed marsh?!" her Assistant-Coach-of-the-Day would shriek, as if the meticulously manicured grass of Neo-Asia's first residential sector was a disguised quagmire waiting to swallow its Continental Olympics hope whole.

  And if she even drifted near a mildly populated area, her security detail would snap into action, forming a full, suffocating cordon around her as if she were a groundbreaking historical artefact on the move.

  "Missus wishes to browse the shops? We shall clear the rabble! No commoner shall obstruct your path!"

  Lanyue often bit her tongue, the words "You are the obstruction!" dying before they left her mouth. Their faces were always so earnestly dedicated. They were simply people just doing their jobs, even if their job was to treat a simple stroll like a high-risk tactical extraction. Her choices for real-world-traversal were, understandably, quite bleak: either bring a full complement of service staff, her Olympic medical team, a glaringly obvious private security detachment, or— the popular option— all of the above.

  But here, in YGGDRASIL…

  For the first time in her life, Lanyue— no, ManMan— was free. There was no one to shriek about non-existent marshes. No cordon of concerned faces. If a quest in Al'dah demanded she harvest cactus fruit, she could just… go harvest cactus fruit. It was absolutely, terrifyingly, and breathtakingly simple. She revelled in it.

  She loved visiting the city-states, absorbing their wildly different cultures and architectures. She could actually feel the simulated wind whipping through the Sea-Cities' rigging, the dry heat of the desert sun, the crisp chill of the mountainous alpine air. The sensations were regulated, yes, but the feeling— the raw, exhilarating thrill of stepping into the unknown completely and utterly alone— was 100% real and entirely her own. She loved every single second of it ☆*:.?.o(≧▽≦)o.?.:*☆.

  The only immersion-breaking flaw was the players themselves. While NPCs in the cities came equipped with a full suite of pre-rendered, lore-appropriate expressions, every living player she met was a stoic mannequin who communicated entirely in a flurry of emoticons. She would reply in kind (^_^)/, but each interaction felt like a tiny pinprick to her carefully built fantasy (???). She understood the safety reasoning behind the expressionless avatars— a guardrail against over-immersion. But for someone clinging to this freedom, it was a faint and very persistent annoyance. A reminder that even this perfect world was, in the end, just a game, an artificial reality.

  But today, that game had a new surprise. After her hundredth errand, her quest log chimed with a new notification: she had unlocked her first Dungeon.

  Her brother's friend, Momonga, had immediately offered to guide her. Among the working adults of Clan Nine's Own Goal, the skeleton lich was by far the most frequently available, his login schedule as predictable as a metronome. He was always online by six, and they would often pass the time with him patiently answering her endless stream of newbie questions.

  Following her minimap to the coast, she found the entrance. It was a graceful sea arch sculpted from vibrant, fossil-encrusted rock, its opening revealing a passage that sloped into a shimmering and half-submerged cavern-grotto where turquoise shallows met the deeper indigo sea.

  And there, waiting for her, was a familiar figure in opulent black and regal purple robes.

  "Hey there, ManMan-san!" Momonga said, his character offering a friendly wave that was accompanied by a (????)? emoji hovering above his head. "Welcome to Sashtasha's Sorrow! Ready to get your feet wet? Literally?"

  "Yes! I can't wait, Momonga-san!" ManMan replied, her own ＼(￣▽￣)／ appearing in cheerful response. "But wait, must we always walk to its physical entrance? Seems kinda tedious."

  "Ah, nope! Just for the story unlock. Think of it as a rite of passage." The skeleton lich explained. He gestured toward a part of her UI. "After this, you can queue for it from the Duty Finder. See this menu? This is your gateway to most casual group content: dungeons, trials, raids... and your daily roulettes, once you unlock them. It's also where the real grind begins." A ?(???)? emoji flickered beside him, underscoring the point.

  "Oooh…" ManMan nodded, a thoughtful (???) appearing. "Eh, its recommended level is only twenty. Does that mean we'll have trouble finding a full party of six?"

  Momonga's cheerful waving animation froze mid-gesture. The skeleton avatar seemed to consider his words carefully, a feat for a face made of bone.

  "Ah, that's… not quite the case," he began, his tone measured. "The system has a clever workaround called the Duty Roulette. It encourages veterans to revisit old content by throwing them into a random dungeon they've already cleared." He gestured with a bony finger, tapping his own empty ribcage. "That means even a max-level 100 player like me might get assigned to help a party of sprouts in a level twenty dungeon. It keeps the queues moving. Everyone gets rewards scaled to their actual level, so it's never a complete waste of time."

  "Oh! That's actually a brilliant system," ManMan said, impressed by the design.

  "It is. There's also level scaling, so us vets can't just sneeze and accidentally obliterate the entire dungeon. It keeps things… uh, sporting." A gentle chime sounded from ManMan's interface as a party invite from Momonga appeared. "Now, accept that. For most story dungeons and casual content, the system enforces a balanced party: one tank, one healer, one DPS, and the last three slots are a lottery. It's to prevent absolute chaos— like six glass-cannon DPS trying to face-tank a boss, or six low-dps Tank meatshields from spending an hour trying to clear a mob pack— from ever happening. They lift the restrictions later for premade groups tackling the real hard stuff."

  "I see!" ManMan nodded, accepting the invite and feeling a new UI element dedicated to party and group combat snap into place on her screen. "Are there anything else I need to know?"

  The bone caster pondered for a moment. "As a healer, your main job is pretty straightforward: keep everyone from dying. Though there's a world of difference between being a healbot and being a true support. For instance—"

  "Aha! I know this one!" ManMan interrupted, her voice bright with the confidence of someone who had just binge-read a dozen online guides. She had spent the last few days buried in forums titled 'YGGDRASIL Support Fundamentals'.

  "The greatest power isn't dealing damage; it's having control over life and death! That makes us healers the most important—"

  The Skeleton Overlord gave a yelp of surprise, his voice sounding not unlike the dry rattle of bones. "NO! Uh, no, ManMan-san! Please, do not adopt that mentality! Σ(?口?)"

  ManMan's avatar tilted its head in a quizzical, expressionless stare.

  Momonga frantically waved his hands as if trying to physically bat the dangerous idea away. "Uhm. See, ManMan-san, while you are directly in charge of keeping everyone alive, that does not mean you should see yourself as a vengeful deity holding their virtual lives hostage. Do not, under any circumstances, go down the path of the Tank-Mains with a God Complex or the… shudder… Arrogant Mentors. ( ′△｀)"

  He let out a sigh that seemed to come from the very depths of his empty ribcage. "As a healer, you're also supposed to DPS the enemies. Your basic rule of thumb is: if no one is actively dying, you should probably be casting a damage spell."

  "Ohhh…" ManMan nodded, mentally filing away this crucial intel. The forums had clearly left out this key nuance. "I see! So, as long as the health bars aren't zero, I just DPS?"

  "Uh…" Now the skeleton looked rather apprehensive, a complex emotion to convey without an expression-capable face. He seemed to be having a horrific flashback of some kind. "Yeah. That's… that's the general idea. (；一_一) Just… keep an eye on the party list. Maybe throw a heal or a shield when someone dips below half, especially the Main Tank. If he falls, the mobs will scatter and start chewing on the rest of the party like a pack of rabid dogs."

  ManMan gave an enthusiastic, determined nod. This was the strategic depth she hadd been craving!

  "Got it, Momonga-san! I'll do my best!"

  "Uh, yeah! ManMan-san, let's… let's do our best… (′-﹏-`；)"

  As if on cue to save him from further explanation, the Duty Finder chimed. The world dissolved into streams of light, and the two of them were whisked away into their instanced story dungeon.

  ———

  Sashtasha's Sorrow. Midgard. YGGDRASIL. 2128.

  The first thing that stole ManMan's breath was the light. The cavern was alive with a soft and ethereal glow, consisting of a natural tapestry of bioluminescent algae and fungi that were painting the walls and ceiling in mesmerising hues of cerulean and emerald.

  Great, smooth crystals— seemingly grown, not placed— jutted from the floor and walls, refracting the gentle light into scattered rainbows that danced across pools of water so clear they were nearly invisible. She could see straight to the bottom, to glittering mineral deposits where slow, iridescent schools of fish drifted like living jewels.

  However, despite the cavern's stunning aesthetics, what truly captivated her was the music.

  A simple, haunting piano melody was drifting through the caverns, each of its note was a perfect and clear tone that seemed to bloom from the walls themselves. Underneath it, a deep, rhythmic pulse thrummed, beating a slow, patient rhythm that gave semblance to the very heart of the earth. ManMan stood still for a long time, just listening, letting the atmosphere soak into her. This… this was a wonder her sanitised, safety-proofed reality could never, ever provide.

  Under the shifting, magical light, she saw Momonga was already several meters ahead, the opulent purple of his robes looking strangely at home as he quietly checked his gear.

  ManMan finally willed her feet to move, jogging to catch up, but her head was on a swivel, trying to absorb every bit of the impossible detail. This was her first dungeon, and she had already felt its quiet, mysterious soul claim a small piece of hers.

  Catching up to Momonga, the rest of her first party snapped into focus. The first to command her attention was the Tank.

  He was a hulking behemoth of a humanoid, his character's race one of the brawny Brogadyn variants, with green-tinged skin and a default facial expression set in a permanently grim, wrinkled, and confident grin. He was the quintessential Paladin, a walking bastion of polished steel and righteous intent. Brilliant, untarnished plate armour protected his shoulders and legs, while a blue cross emblem was emblazoned across the steel-and-cloth of his chestplate. A silver coronet sat atop his head, marking him as a knight of some renown.

  In one hand, he held a broadsword that shimmered with a soft, internal light, and in the other, a magnificent kite shield featuring a complex, radiant sunburst pattern. He stood at the very front of the group, a immovable object ready to meet any unstoppable force. A friendly (^_^)/ emoji hovered above him, a stark and cheerful contrast to his imposing, grim-faced silhouette.

  Beside the paladin stood a player who was very obviously a fellow Sprout, marked by the bright green leafy icon floating above his head. He was a Lalahell, a member of the diminutive race, clutching a simple twig-like staff and shifting nervously from foot to foot. The red DPS icon next to his name and the oversized, pointy caster's hat identified him as a Black Mage. He looked so small and out of place next of the hulking tank that ManMan felt a sudden surge of camaraderie to her fellow sprout (′? ω ?\)?`.

  And then there was the third DPS.

  If the Paladin was a beacon of light, this player was a sliver of absolute night. He was a silhouette of sharp angles and implied menace, clad from head to toe in form-fitting black maiming armour. The gear was all hard plates and reinforced leather, designed for brutal efficiency, seeming to swallow the grotto's dim light.

  He had opted for the full 'I AM AN EDGY AF LONE WOOooO.OOOLF' aesthetic commitment: a full helmet with a smooth, sinister visor that offered no hint of the person within. If not for the knife-shaped protrusions indicating he too was an elf, ManMan would have had no way of discerning his race.

  Slung across his back was a massive, wicked scythe, its crescent blade a cruel slash of darkened metal that looked less like a farming tool and more like an instrument for systematic dismemberment. He stood so perfectly still he could have been mistaken for a NPC, radiating a silent aura of impartial lethality. ManMan found his dedication to the theme vaguely impressive, though a small part of her wondered if his real-life browser history was just a long list of 'how to be cool and mysterious' forum posts (￢?￢ ).

  Fortunately, the edge-lord appeared to be friendly. As his helmeted gaze swept over the party, a simple, benign greeting (シ_ _)シ appeared above him, completely undercutting his otherwise terrifying vibe.

  The final member of their party materialised last, a human Monk clad in traditional martial arts robes and equipped with a pair of reinforced gauntlets. He did not bother with a greeting. His first words, spat into the cavern's silence, ensured his first impression landed with the grace of a lead balloon.

  "Ugh!? What the hell? Sashtasha?" The Monk yelled, an angry (╯°□°）╯︵ ┻━┻ emoji flashing aggressively above his head. "Shit… Two sprouts and a Heteromorph!? This is gonna be long…" He turned his character sharply towards ManMan. "Oi, Healer! Don't lag behind or I'm keeping your commendation!"

  What's his problem? ManMan thought, bewildered. Lanyue was no stranger to egoistical try-hards— the world of competitive athletics was full of them— but they usually had the skill to back up the attitude. Usually.

  This one on the other hand, was just pure, unfiltered vitriol.

  Before she could form a response, their tank, sensing the sudden toxic spike in the party's atmosphere, stepped forward. His friendly emoji was replaced by a stern, solid (—_—).

  "Easy there, friend!" The Paladin, a Wyshtarm Lightward, said, his voice a calming baritone. "It's a daily roulette, not a world first. Besides, sprouts are how the game lives!"

  "Tch. Whatever." The Monk— Hole Puncher— dismissed with a wave of his hand. "Just pull already."

  "Wait." Momonga's tone was calm but carried a note of authority that seemed to still the air. "We have new players this run. Let's take this slowly so they can learn."

  "Agreed!" Wyshtarm boomed, his cheerful demeanour returning. "With you there, BoneDaddy!"

  Seizing the chance to defuse the tension, the tiny Lalahell caster hopped slightly and gave a polite wave, a ?? emoji appearing beside him. "I-I'm Castingggggh Pyah. Sprout Thaumaturge. Oneigaishimasu!"

  The black-clad Reaper gave a slight and definitely imperceptible nod. "Milkidor Suctorious. I play Reaper and its subclasses." His voice was a low, like a quiet monotone.

  Their tank thumped his chest plate proudly. "Wyshtarm Lightward! Knight Paladin! At your service!"

  "Are we done at the kindergarten daycare?" The Monk groaned, a bored (?_?) emblem appearing over him. "Hole Puncher, Monk. Can we please start the dungeon now?"

  ———

  Sashtasha. Midgard. YGGDRASIL. 2128.

  The fight was chaotic. The dungeon's mid-boss, a Chaos Beast Leopard, moved with feral speed.

  "Tank-Buster incoming! Eyes on my health, ManMan-san!" Wyshtarm Lightward bellowed as a vicious, rotating red ring flared to life around his avatar, accompanied by a sharp, insistent warning chime. He braced behind his shield, activating his own defence. "[Righteous Rampart]! A little help would be appreciated!"

  ManMan acknowledged, "Got it, Wysshhh— Tank-san! [Tutelica]!"

  With an elegant gesture, a shimmering, star-dusted shield of astral energy materialised around the Paladin, forming a protective constellation that orbited him.

  It was just in time as the leopard immediately lunged afterwards, its talons striking with a force that shattered her stellar shield into motes of light and clawed away over half of Wyshtarm's health in a single, terrifying swipe.

  "Ah! Your health! That was an insane attack!" ManMan yelped, her eyes darting frantically across her hotbars. Another attack was already telegraphed as the beast coiled for another strike. She had seconds to top up Wyshtarm or her cheerful Paladin would soon be reduced to exotic cat food.

  "Keep calm, ManMan-san!" Momonga called out helpfully, unleashing a crackling bolt of chain lightning that struck the feline's flank. "See if you have any oGCD skills you can use! Something instant!"

  oGCD… ManMan's mind raced, desperately raking through the skill list she had memorised. She had her main heals, her GCDs, but they were all manual casts. Even if the Astrologian classes had relatively quick cast times, they still felt agonisingly slow under pressure. Her newly learned [Benefica II] promised a powerful heal, but its longer cast time was a death sentence here— she would never get it off before those claws found their mark again.

  Her eyes scanned her available skills. [Exalted Blessing] was for cleansing debuffs. Useless. [Luminiferous Aether] was for aggro reduction. Worse than useless. That left only one option: [Celestial Accord].

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  Its description flashed in her mind: Single-target. 90-second cooldown. Grants a small immediate heal and applies a HoT (Heal over Time) for 15 seconds.

  It was a gamble. She had never used it before, but it was an instant cast skill.

  Her fingers flew. "[Celestial Accord]!"

  A soft, steady light— like the first rays of dawn— enveloped Wyshtarm. Its warmth instantly knit together his most severe wounds, the timing so perfect it was almost divine. The Chaos Leopard's follow-up strike landed a moment later, carving another chunk from his health bar, but the healing was already ticking. The regenerative pulses began their work, steadily refilling the green bar and pulling him back from the brink.

  "Nice save, sprout healer! ヽ(￣ω￣(。。 )ゝ" The Paladin's cheer cut through the sound of combat as he blocked another swipe. "Keep it coming!"

  "Oh, good one, ManMan-san!" Momonga encouraged mid-cast.

  A flurry of approving emojis appeared from the other DPS— a relieved （＞д＜）from the tiny Thaumaturge and a simple, efficient (￣ー￣)? from the edgy Reaper.

  Only the Monk offered no praise; just a dismissive, audible grunt over the voice channel. At this point, ManMan had mentally downgraded him from 'party member' to 'ambient toxic noise,' a status slightly less valuable than the dungeon's background music, filtering him out entirely.

  Emboldened, ManMan fell into a rhythm. Her eyes remained locked on the health bars, her fingers ready with a [Benefica] if needed. In the moments of safety, she flicked [Malefica] at the beast, launching small bolts of astral spite that chipped away at its health. Momonga and the tiny Thaumaturge maintained a constant barrage of magic, while the Reaper became a whirlwind of scythe strikes, efficiently dismantling any additional creatures that scrambled from the shadows.

  The boss fight's lively, slightly mischievous pirate shanty continued to play, its cheerful accordions and flutes contrasting their life-or-death struggle. ManMan found the music oddly uplifting as its adventurous vibe were keeping her spirits high.

  Then, the Chaos Beast Leopard reared back, gathering energy for its final assault. In that moment, a brilliant, pulsing yellow diamond flashed into existence above their pint-sized Thaumaturge. A sharp, escalating chime rang out, screaming urgency.

  Their tiny caster froze for a second before panicking. "What? What do I do here? Is this an AoE?" He immediately broke into a sprint, making a desperate beeline for the farthest corner of the coral arena.

  "Castingggggh-san! No, come back! It's a stack marker!" Wyshtarm yelled, already moving to group up but hesitating as he watched their caster flee in the wrong direction.

  Momonga quickly interjected. "ManMan-san, use your healer-specific [Rescue] skill! You should have it by now! Use it on him and pull him to your side!"

  ManMan stared down at her list of abilities. Sure enough, an skill called [Gravitational Yank] was there. It promised almost-instant target retrieval but had a concerning footnote: Gravitational Yank will not consider environmental hazards. Please use with care.

  She didn't have time to decipher the warning. Seeing their caster about to meet a solitary doom, she thrust her hand out and activated the skill.

  A lasso of shimmering, star-dusted light shot across the arena, wrapping around the fleeing Lalahell. With a firm, celestial tug, it yanked him off his feet and sent him sliding unceremoniously across the stone floor, landing with a comical woosh! right at her side.

  Not a second later, the Chaos Beast's cast finished. A massive radial explosion of energy detonated right where they were grouped, washing over them and carving a hefty chunk from everyone's health. The damage was significant, but survivable. Had Castingggggh Pyah been alone in his corner, the hit would have undoubtedly been fatal for the Lalahell.

  "Nice save, ManMan-san!" Wyshtarm sounded genuinely impressed, his character giving a congratulatory emote as a (b^_^)b appeared over his head. "That's the first time I've seen a sprout healer use [Rescue] to actually rescue someone! Most just use it to yoink their friends into environmental hazards for a laugh (￣▽￣*)."

  Castingggggh Pyah hopped up and down, a massive (人*′?｀)?*?+ of relief and gratitude appearing above him. "Woah! Thanks for the assist there! I thought I was a goner!"

  Even the edgy Reaper, Milkidor, gave a slight, approving nod with a simple (￣ー￣)? flashing briefly.

  Their paladin gave a hearty guffaw as they began their counterattack. "Hahaha! Alright team, let's finish this overgrown house cat off! For honour and glory!"

  The party rallied and unleashed a final coordinated assault. Momonga's spells rained down, the Thaumaturge's fire spells finally landing without interruption, and the Reaper's scythe became a blur of motion. Under the combined onslaught, the Chaos Beast Leopard finally let out a defeated yowl and dissolved into motes of light.

  A chime signalled the victory, and the lively pirate shanty music swelled into a triumphant fanfare.

  A single, sarcastic grunt came from the Monk. "...Congrats. You did the bare minimum of your job," Hole Puncher sneered, the sound accompanied by his familiar, dismissive (?_?). "Can we move on now?"

  ManMan just smiled internally. The salty taste of his disapproval was somehow even more satisfying than the Paladin's praise.

  ———

  Final Boss Arena. Sashtasha. Midgard. YGGDRASIL. 2128.

  The party soon reached the final boss zone after traversing a series of damp, underground pirate tunnels, clearing out sea mobs and corsairs of all races and sizes. The path opened into a vast grotto where the cave ceiling rose to reveal the open air and the sea, creating a shimmering and picturesque seaside dome.

  Waiting for them at the centre was a monster that could only be described as a half-fish, half-man amalgamation. It was a monstrous, serpentine creature with a body of dull, fish-like scales encrusted with glowing green barnacles and pale corals. It stood upright on two thick fin-legs, clutching a rusted trident in its webbed hands. Of its two eyes, only one remained, looking slighly milky and oozed a faint, sickly pus. Its title read: Drekki — the Drowned Sea-Drake.

  "Alright! Final boss time!" Wyshtarm announced, his avatar brimming with confidence as he stood before the grotto's entrance. A series of hyper-active ヽ(★ω★)ノ emojis danced around him. "Since we've got two sprouts with us today, I'll be taking this a little slower." He then turned to Momonga. "Heteromorph BoneDaddy—san, you seem pretty well-versed. Wanna do the honours and give them the rundown?"

  "Thank you, Wyshtarm-san," Momonga said gratefully. The Skeleton Mage then shifted his attention to ManMan and Castingggggh Pyah while their Reaper leaned silently against a nearby coral pillar. The Monk, Hole Puncher, was pacing irritably, periodically tossing out an annoyed (?_?") emoji.

  "Now, before engaging a formidable enemy, it is always a good habit to prepare thoroughly," Momonga began, his tone taking on the quality of an university lecturer. He pulled a few items from his inventory interface. "For humanoids like yourselves, you will want to cast your class-appropriate self-buffs. Additionally, you should always consume food before a boss fight. They grant substantial, albeit temporary, stat buffs."

  He then passed around what appeared to be a steaming bowl of udon noodles. "Here, take one serving each. This particular dish boosts both magic attack and magic defence."

  The two sprouts received their bowls and began to eat, their avatars automatically launching into a pre-programmed eating animation. ManMan was genuinely excited, leaning her character forward as if to savour the aroma. She was looking forward to experiencing how in-game udon tasted, a small culinary adventure in this world of wonders.

  Unfortunately, her foodie fantasy was instantly dissolved by the cruelties of modern entertainment laws.

  "Momonga-san," she muttered, her tone despondent with dejection as her avatar finished the bowl in a matter of seconds. "They taste like… moistened cardboard strips. And I don't feel like I actually ate anything." Their tiny caster was nodding along vigorously in shared disappointment. Though their avatars' faces remained locked in their default expressions, their slumped postures and downturned heads painted a perfect picture of misery and letdown.

  Wyshtarm let out a booming guffaw and a hearty (≧▽≦) emoji appeared above him. "Well, yeah! They can't make it taste good! Imagine if the food in here was delicious— they'd wake up the next day to find half the playerbase had starved to death with their helmets on! (；一_一)"

  Momonga himself gave a sheepish, rattling laugh. "He's not wrong, ManMan-san. The Full-Dive Sensory Regulation Entertainment Human Safety and Protection Act of Neo-Japan is very strict. The sensory data for taste and smell is heavily modulated to be 'nutritionally non-compelling.' It's to prevent players from losing touch with physical reality and neglecting their actual bodies."

  "I see…" ManMan grumbled. It made grim logical sense. Certainly, that would indeed be bad, but that also did not stop the bland, phantom sensation of cardboard from being a complete dampener on her spirits. She had been so looking forward to a virtual hearty meal before the final boss.

  A Monk's condescending voice thenrattled her disappointment away. "Are we done with the kindergarten snack time (?▃?)?" Hole Puncher snapped as he strode into the arena. He pointed a gauntleted finger at ManMan's elven avatar. "Oi, sprout. Heal properly. I'm not losing a chunk of EXP because you can't press a button."

  Before she could retort, Wyshtarm stepped between them, his massive frame a wall of polished silver blocking the humanoid. "Ignore him, ManMan-san," he said, his voice a low, reassuring rumble. A supportive (′? ω ?\)?` appeared by his head. "Just do what you've been doing. Watch the health bars, handle the mechanics. You can count on me to time my mitigations."

  He glanced over the party. "Our edgy friend and the tiny caster know how to move, and your lich buddy is sharp with his debuffs. We'll be fine." He then leaned in slightly, his tone dropping to a theatrical whisper. "Can't say the same for the monk, though. Guy's on a tilt so steep he's practically vertical… ˉ\_(ツ)_/ˉ"

  ManMan could not help but grin. She gave their tank a conspiratorial nudge. "You mean he might... accidentally stand in something bad later? Hehe." She then popped up a dramatically tired (′-ω-｀) emoji and feigned a yawn. "Oh dear, I'm so fatigued~ My concentration might just slip and my heal could be a teensy bit delayed..."

  Wyshtarm let out a booming, delighted laugh. "HAHAHA! Well, accidents happen! I'm quite fed up with his attitude as well. Now, let's go show this fish-man what a real party looks like!"

  With a thunderous shout, their hulking Paladin charged across the grotto. "Oi, fish stew! Your table is ready! [Righteous Provocation]!"

  The Drekki turned its single, milky eye toward the new threat. With a guttural roar, it met Wyshtarm's charge, its rusted trident slamming against the sunburst shield with a sound like a cracking bell. The two were instantly locked in a furious melee, a storm of flashing steel and rotting coral. Wyshtarm, however, was clearly moderating his aggression, focusing on defence to give the sprouts time to find their rhythm in the final battle's faster tempo.

  Milkidor Suctorious became a phantom on the sea-drake's right flank, his form blurring as he darted in to unleash scythe strikes during the boss's recovery animations. Castingggggh Pyah planted himself behind the Reaper, his tiny form almost hidden as he began the long, careful casts of his most powerful spells. On the left flank, their rude Monk launched into a flurry of punches with aggressive, though silent, efficiency. Momonga stood beside ManMan, hurling searing fireballs while a skeleton warrior shambled forward to aid their tank.

  ManMan's focus was locked onto Wyshtarm's health bar. This was a different league from the trash mobs and mid-boss. Each concussive tail swipe and punishing trident thrust carved deep into the Paladin's HP, even as he expertly blocked and parried. She maintained a relentless stream of healing, layering [Benefica] and the more potent [Benefica II], desperately trying to keep the green bar stable. In the fleeting seconds of safety, she weaved in a [Malefica], sending small bolts of spiteful energy chipping away at the fish-lizard-man's monstrous health pool.

  "ManMan-san, watch your MP!" Momonga's warning jolted through her tunnelled concentration. "You're burning through it faster than your natural regeneration can recover!"

  Her eyes flicked to her interface. He was right. Her blue mana bar was draining at an alarming rate, already dipping into the final quarter. A cold spike of panic shot through her.

  Ah! I forgot to mind my MP management! ManMan chastised herself internally. A healer out of mana was just a fancy-looking cheerleader. She forced herself to pause her frantic spellcasting, the silence feeling deafening as she desperately searched for a solution. They were barely a third of the way through the boss's health bar; running completely dry now would be a catastrophe.

  Wyshtarm's voice, though strained from blocking trident strikes, was helpful. "ManMan-san, check your spell pool! You should have an MP recovery skill! Healers always get one! That or spam some MP potions!"

  Their Hole Puncher monk, however, was less than supportive. "Tch. Typical. Can't even manage your resources. (?_?`)"

  Shut up, musclehead! ManMan shot back, her focus narrowing. Her eyes scanned her hotbar, and there it was, nestled among her other abilities:

  [Star's Breath]: You regulate your breath and enter a moment of lucid dreaming, recovering a substantial amount of MP.

  "Found it!" she exclaimed. With a hurried gesture, she activated the skill. A wave of calming warmth washed over her avatar. Starry motes of light began to emanate from her with each rhythmic breath, her MP bar visibly pulsing upward with each ethereal exhale.

  "Splendid! Just in time, ManMan! Tank Buster incoming!" Wyshtarm yelled, his voice tight with urgency.

  Her focus snapped back to the fish-drake. It was rearing back, its single eye beginning to glow with a malevolent white light. A cast bar labeled [Abyssal Glare] appeared beneath its health pool, and the familiar, dreaded red ring ignited around Wyshtarm.

  "Got it! [Boosted Magic: Tutelica]!" Another starry shield materialised around the Paladin, its protective constellations flaring brightly just as the Drekki unleashed its devastating glare. The shield shattered under the force, but it absorbed the worst of the blow, leaving Wyshtarm standing.

  Their tank managed a quick ???? emoji as he sidestepped a vicious trident thrust. "Naisu! Don't relax yet, if I remember right, a raid-wide is next!"

  "Raid-wide?" This was a term ManMan hadn't heard before, but her question was answered as the Drekki began to glow with a surging blue energy, its cast bar filling with the text [Tidal Surge].

  Momonga launched a fireball before calling out, "It means it hits the entire party at once! You'll want some group mitigation or a big heal ready! Though..." He trailed off, noting something. "Look at the boss's debuff bar. I believe our silent friend has it handled."

  Sure enough, nestled among the various damage-over-time icons was a distinct red hand symbol.

  "That's [Assured Feint]," Momonga explained. "A Reaper skill. It reduces the boss's damage output by five percent for a short time. Still, now would be an excellent time to apply any area-of-effect healing or shields you have, ManMan-san." The Skeleton Overlord then gracefully hopped several meters back. "Don't worry about me, I should be out of range of your spell now! (`ヮ′ )?"

  "Eh, I don't think I have any AoE shields!" ManMan replied, desperately shuffling through her spells. "I do see one called [Astralise] though! It's a big AoE heal!"

  "Perfect! Use that! Try to time it to go off right after the damage hits!" Momonga advised.

  ManMan nodded, waiting to execute the spell. The Drekki's cast reached completion, and a massive wave of foul, stagnant seawater roared from the sea and washed over the entire arena. On her party list, she saw every health bar— except Momonga's— lurch downward by a solid third. The Lich seemed to have conjured some shield of his own.

  Seizing the moment, she channeled her spell, her hands weaving through the astral patterns. "[Boosted Magic: Astralise]!"

  A cluster of miniature constellations shimmered into existence, swirling around her elven form. As she held the cast, the stellar energies coalesced before erupting outward in a silent, expanding ring of soft, radiant light. It washed over the humanoids in the party, knitting flesh and mending wounds, pushing everyone's health bars back to a comfortable level.

  "Nice one, ManMan-san!" Wyshtarm called out from the front as the party renewed its offensive. The coordinated assault quickly drove the Drekki's health below the halfway mark, triggering a new phase. The sea-drake reared back, and a haunting, discordant melody began resonanting through the grotto as it began to cast [Call of the Drowned].

  "Adds phase!" Momonga's warning was sharp. "They're coming from the water!"

  Instantly, the surrounding pools churned. Skeletal and waterlogged corsairs, in all stages of gruesome decomposition, clawed their way onto land along with a barrage of corrosive puddles of seawater. Momonga and Milkidor Suctorious shifted targets with lethal efficiency, the Lich's area-of-effect curses and the Reaper's whirling scythe beginning to thin the incoming horde. The Drekki itself had ceased its direct attacks, now channeling a powerful, glowing spell.

  "Kill the adds before he finishes that big attack!" Wyshtarm yelled, rushing to intercept the new threats. He and Castingggggh Pyah joined the fray, the Paladin using [Righteous Provocation] to gather the aggro of the entire shambling mob, before turning them away from the party.

  ManMan was moving to aid the DPS when she saw Wyshtarm's plummeting health bar. He was a maelstrom of blocking and parrying, a virtuoso performance of tanking, but the sheer volume of claws, rusted cutlasses, and decaying fists was overwhelming. For every attack he deflected, two more slipped through his guard. Momonga, Milkidor, and the tiny Thaumaturge laid down a relentless barrage of AoE attacks, but it was a race against time. Their bulwark was crumbling under the weight of the drowned.

  Making a snap decision, ManMan abandoned all pretence of damage and threw every healing spell and oGCD skill she had at Wyshtarm the moment they came off cooldown, a desperate lifeline trying to stall his plummeting HP.

  Out of the corner of her vision, she noticed the silhouette of Hole Puncher. He had completely ignored the adds, and instead was greedily pounding on the channeling boss.

  "Hole Puncher! What are you doing? Help with the mobs!" ManMan called out in alarm.

  "Shut up, sprout (ノ?益?)ノ!" the Monk snapped, never breaking his combo. "What do you know? You're eighty levels too early to be lecturing me!"

  Blinded by his greed for more damage and his own arrogance, ManMan saw him failing to watch his footing. He overextended, planting both feet directly into a bubbling, acidic puddle of stagnant seawater.

  ZZZZZT!

  A nasty electric shock wracked his character. A jagged, yellow [Paralysed] icon flashed above his head as his health began to drain rapidly from the environmental damage.

  ManMan saw his bar nosedive. Her finger instinctively twitched toward a heal. But she stopped.

  She was at a crossroads.

  Option One: Heal the Monk. Save the toxic self-griefer. But doing so would mean taking her focus, her oGCDs, and her precious mana away from Wyshtarm for a crucial second. Their Paladin had just burned his last mitigation. If he fell, the entire add pack would turn and eviscerate the three squishy DPS in seconds. A full wipe.

  Option Two: Let the Monk drown in the puddle of his own making. Focus entirely on the tank and the party members who were actually doing their jobs. Guarantee their survival.

  The choice was laughably easy.

  A cold and serene focus settled over her elven avatar. The tank and the group came first, and frankly, the hole puncher monk had been a royal pain the entire dungeon.

  She turned her back on his convulsing form and poured every ounce of her concentration into keeping Wyshtarm alive. And just like that, their Hole Puncher soon dissolved into a puddle of humanoid fish-feed. His health hit zero and a giant red cross blinked over his name in the party list interface.

  "OI!? HEALER?!?! WTF?!" he screamed over the voice channel, his voice cracking with rage. A furious (╯°□°)╯︵ ┻━┻ materialised above his corpse, now a puppet with its strings cut. "****ING SPRUT CAN'T DO YOUR BLOODY JOB!"

  ManMan didn't even dignify it with a response. Her silence was her answer. With the adds finally defeated, the Drekki— interrupted mid-cast— could only muster a weakened version of its heavy attack. A familiar, pulsing yellow diamond flashed into existence directly above ManMan's head.

  "Stack on the healer!!" Wyshtarm yelled, already rushing toward her. The surviving members of the party converged— a sprinting skeleton overlord, a hulking paladin, a lanky reaper, and a tiny, desperately hopping lalahell.

  "Pff…!" ManMan suppressed a faint giggle at the comical sight of the four wildly different avatars huddling around her for safety.

  "ManMan-san, now's not the time for laughs! (`A′)!" Wyshtarm chided, though there was no real anger in his voice, only urgency. "Top us up or we won't make it!"

  Shaking off her giggling fit, she channeled her magic. "[Maximised Magic: Astralise]!" A massive, brilliant starscape erupted from her, washing over the huddled group. She followed it up with targeted [Benefica II] spells, her hands a blur.

  Unfortunately, this also meant Momonga had to spend some of his resources to top himself up. Despite that, ManMan managed to cast a single [Maximised Magic: Tutelica] on him.

  It was just in time. The Drekki launched into the air before plummeting down in a devastating dive attack. The grotto shook violently upon impact, the shockwave blasting away nearby puddles and unceremoniously scattering what little remained of Hole Puncher's corpse to the farthest corners of the arena.

  "Phew! We made it!" Wyshtarm muttered, his voice ragged. ManMan glanced at their HP bars; everyone was clinging to a sliver of health, barely twenty percent. She frantically began the work of topping everyone up while letting Momonga heal himself.

  "Alright! Now let's finish this overgrown goldfish and end this run!" the Paladin roared.

  With a final, coordinated assault, the party brought the Drekki down. It let out a final, gurgling roar before dissolving into a shower of shimmering aquatic bubbles and ethereal motes of light.

  [You have received: EXP]

  [You have received: Drekki Scale (Low)]

  [You have received: Data Crystal (Low)]

  [You have levelled up!]

  ———

  After the boss fight came time to roll for special loot. A basic, low-class Astrometer, one of the Astrologian's main arms, was available. Most of the party decided to forfeit the item, passing it directly to ManMan.

  Wyshtarm gave her a broad grin as he headed towards the exit. "It's too basic for me, and I don't play any of the Astro classes anyway! Have fun with it, ManMan-san!" he said, a cheerful (￣ω￣)/ appearing above him. "I have high hopes for you! It's not often I see a sprout playing an Astrologian class."

  [Wyshtarm Lightward has left the party.]

  Milkidor and Castingggggh both gave polite, silent nods before leaving, choosing not to roll entirely.

  [Milkidor Suctorious has left the party.]

  [Castingggggh Pyah has left the party.]

  That left the hole puncher. His body glowed weakly as ManMan completed the channeled cast for [Elementary Ascension], her basic resurrection spell. The monk's avatar flickered back into existence, but a portion of his hard-earned EXP and a level were visibly lost as the cost of the imperfect spell.

  "What the ****!?!? I LOST THREE ****ING LEVELS!?" Hole Puncher screamed, his voice raw with fury as a torrent of angry emojis (╬?益?) (┛?Д?)┛彡┻━┻ erupted around him amidst a colourful stream of primitive language. "OI, LICH! You had resurrection wands, did you not? WHY THE **** DID YOU NOT USE THEM!?"

  Her Undead friend Momonga simply tilted his skull.

  "Oh, did I?" he asked, his tone emanating feigned innocence. "I must have forgotten! Truly, the thrill of combat must have been so exhilarating that I momentarily forgot that I, too, was a level 100 player with a full inventory!" A perfectly innocent (?ω?)ノ hung in the air beside him.

  "Pff—"

  ManMan could not suppress her snort of laughter.

  Hole Puncher stared at her and then at Momonga, his human avatar visibly quivering with impotent rage.

  "Remember this, Sprout Astro," he spat, his voice low and venomous. "And you, heteromorph. I'll make sure to repay this debt tenfold."

  [Hole Puncher has left the party.]

  "Well, that was exciting!" ManMan called out, the adrenaline from the fight still buzzing. "I had no idea boss fights could be so intense! That was actually really fun!"

  "I'm glad you enjoyed it, ManMan-san," Momonga replied, a soft chuckle rattling in his skeletal frame. "Though I believe we could have done without our aggressively passionate monk (￣ω￣);;"

  "I noticed he really didn't like your race. Is there a reason for it?"

  Momonga paused, the glowing red pinpoints in his eye sockets seeming to dim slightly. "Well, that has to do with the game's rather... contentious history and its class progression systems. You see, some of the most sought-after classes require heteromorph-player kills to advance. And since killing a heteromorph doesn't cost the attacker any Player-Karma…"

  He gestured a bony finger toward ManMan's High Elf avatar. "See, as a humanoid, you have certain protections. If someone attacks you unprovoked, they lose Player-Karma. Get into the negatives, and you become a free-for-all target, dropping two of your best gear on death. It's a strong deterrent. Most players avoid unprovoked open-world PKing because of it."

  Seeing ManMan's tilted head, the undead lich continued. "The exceptions are the designated PVP zones— endgame dungeons, treasure areas, outside the safe zone of extreme trials and savage raids. Ah, and guild wars. If a guild or clan declares war on another, their members are fair game. Or..." Momonga's voice became dry. "...you're hunting a heteromorph. Those are the only ways to PK 'legally' in YGGDRASIL. A single BiS gear still drops upon death." A grim (;ー_ー) emoji drifted beside him.

  "I see…" ManMan said. The system felt deeply unfair. "Why would the developers design it that way?"

  Momonga gave this question a much longer pause, the silence stretching as he seemed to choose his words carefully.

  "I suppose... it's a form of balance," he began, his voice lower. "Heteromorphs like myself possess significant racial bonuses such as complete immunity to mental attacks. This kind of invulnerability extends to all but World Items. We also get more stats per level and powerful passive buffs, like complete immunity to physical damage from any character below level 60." He let the weight of those advantages hang in the air for a moment. "Of course, such power comes with heavier demerits. And a rather large target on one's back."

  He pointed a bony finger at his own ribcage. "For instance, an undead lich like myself has an inherently evil Karma value. What that means is that while my death and ghost magics are enhanced, I am also painfully vulnerable to flame and holy attacks. Healing spells work the opposite on me, and I need negative energy to regain lost HP. So, it's balanced, in a rather brutal manner of speaking (′ー｀)"

  "I see… sounds strong!" ManMan produced a (? ??_??)? POWER! emoji as she stared at the lich, impressed.

  Momonga gave a dry, rattling chuckle. "Haha! Yeah, we are slightly stronger, balance-wise. Although I daresay most of us picked heteromorph simply because we liked the aesthetic, or simply just wanted to roleplay as villains without the karma penalty. Now, shall we leave as well?"

  "No, wait! I wanna take a look at this scenery first!" ManMan replied, pointing toward the breathtaking view of the open sea from the grotto's coral arena. The water was now calm and crystal clear. "This view is absolutely stunning now that the fish-lizard is gone!"

  "HAHAHA! Well, yeah! YGGDRASIL's worlds are handcrafted, that's for sure," Momonga said, following her to the edge of the reef where it met the tranquil waters. "Take your time, ManMan-san. Most story dungeons are instanced and have a two-hour time limit; we've got plenty of time to enjoy the view (￣▽￣*)."

  ManMan turned her head, the serene environment making her curious. "Does that apply to those endgame dungeons you've mentioned too?"

  "Hmmm, those are a little different," Momonga explained, his tone shifting to that of a seasoned veteran. "Once you've completed the MSQ, you can access those. They follow the standard YGGDRASIL open-world design philosophy— they're always open in fixed locations. The devs wanted players to explore and find these dungeons by themselves..." He paused, the red lights in his eyes flickering. "...and if necessary, fight and kill other players to claim them (ー_ー)"

  "Some reset after a clear," he continued, "others are one-time dungeons that can be converted into mines or guild bases. They remain open, a prize for the taking, until someone conquers them for good. The endgame Extreme Trials and Savage Raids are similar, though they're instanced so everyone gets a chance to experience the… savage carnage." He finished his explanation, watching with amusement as ManMan began taking screenshots, posing her high elf avatar in a variety of cutesy poses against the scenic backdrop.

  "Oh! Those sound exciting! Are savage raids the hardest—" click! The sound of a screenshot captured her elf mid-victory emote. "—endgame content?"

  "Yeah, they are the pinnacle for now," Momonga confirmed. "Though there have been... unsettling rumours of an even harder difficulty tier being developed. These Savage Raids are essentially extreme versions of the already punishing Extreme Trials. (′?ω?`)"

  Noting ManMan's confused (?_??) emoji, he elaborated. "Think of Trials as story-focused raids. They're packed with lore, unforgettable music, and epic cinematic moments. For you, you'll likely encounter your first proper trial around level thirty or so."

  He gave a reassuring thumbs up emoji ???? as he continued. "You can imagine them as even more intense, mechanically complex versions of the hardest story fights. But as I said, the MSQ comes first. You are, if I recall correctly, not even a fifth of the way through the first chapter. And there are five chapters! (￣ω￣);;"

  "Woah, I'm looking forward to all of it!" she exclaimed. Seizing the moment, she grabbed the hem of the undead caster's robes. "Actually, Momonga-san, come here! Join me for a commemorative shot too! Ah, but our avatars don't have expressions…"

  "Let's use emojis as substitutes," Momonga offered warmly, moving to stand beside her at the grotto's edge.

  As Momonga's friendly ?(=￣?￣)? emoji flickered into existence beside her cheerful 」(￣▽￣」), ManMan framed the shot and gestured at the shutter button on her interface.

  Click!

  The virtual photo captured it all: the endless, serene sea, the glittering corals of the conquered grotto, and her first true friend in this vast, open world— a skeletal lich and a high elf, side-by-side.

  With their commemoration shot saved, the two fell into a comfortable silence, broken only by the soft, heartbeat-like pulse of the dungeon's music and the distant crash of virtual waves.

  ManMan closed her eyes for a second, committing the melody to memory— the first of many she would come to cherish. It was the perfect, serene soundtrack to the end of her first real adventure and a bright, exciting prelude to everything that would soon follow in her journeys through YGGDRASIL with her merry band of heteromorph friends.

  ——— Author's Note ———

  Heya! I hope you're enjoying this story!

  Over the week I've taken what time I had to plan my little OC's adventures out as well as the core themes this story will have. Despite it being a story I wrote mainly for my own enjoyment, I felt I should let you guys know too. Self-discovery & light-hearted comedy remains my two main goals, and I should also point out that I personally enjoy light-hearted & cozy stories more, so here's a warning on what to expect ahead of time ^^ With that said, I hope you enjoy our high elf's journey in YGGDRASIL ?( ? )?