The team, which didn’t actually have a proper party name yet, had a subdued, slightly tense dinner at the inn.

  All the talk of levels and buffs had created something of a rift between all of the girls, and Alastair, [Paladin] of the Holy Order of Light that he was…wisely stayed out of it. Melia took that time to eat a very ample (but for her extremely subdued) dinner, capitalizing on their distractedness to eat more than a gnome should.

  She still got her share of weird looks and gawks.

  The team wandered out of the inn when the sun was finally making its downward descent, having remained high in the sky far longer in these summer nights than it would the rest of the year. Melia was still coming to terms with the world having actual seasons and day and night cycles, rather than running on “game time” so that everybody could experience night and day.

  Passersby cast long shadows as, seemingly as a cohesive unit, nearly the entire town made its way toward the bonfire. Unlike earlier in the day, several flamboyantly dressed “custodians of the flame” stood around, greeting festival-goers warmly while making sure no small children got too close to the unlit tower of wood. The party met resistance in the form of an already gathered crowd right outside their inn, but they managed to climb on top of some poor vendor’s cart, who was looking resigned that his earlier fortune at getting a “prime” location was backfiring. He’d only been able to shoo away one or two people trying to use his stall as a vantage point before the pickpockets started coming around, at which point he gave up, electing to close for the night and enjoy the festivities before getting robbed blind.

  Melia slid between the thighs and kneecaps until she made her way to the very front. She stared up at a dashing, middle aged human with a neat ring beard and wavy hair that had to be styled with some sort of gel. By his outfit alone, bright orange and red with a V cut so deep it went to his abs, Melia knew this man to be the Keeper of the Flame. Sadly, she didn’t recognize him, and when he spotted her and smiled, there was no recognition on his end either.

  Melia wasn’t sure whether to be sad or relieved at that.

  “Good evening, Little One,” he said in a booming, carrying voice. “The festival is about to start with the Everlasting Flame, so make sure to stand a safe enough distance back. And remember,” he raised his voice higher to address the crowd, “Fire resistance does not mean fire immunity. Just because you think you can handle the heat, doesn’t mean you can’t burn.”

  A few laughs and a handful of groans rose all around. Melia smiled, emboldened, and took another step.

  “And I’m quite looking forward to it!” she chirped brightly. Honestly, she was. In the game, there wasn’t any sort of ceremony. It simply wasn’t, and then…was. As soon as 12:01 hit the servers and the date changed, the event flag turned active and where there wasn’t a festival, now there was one.

  …or, in reality, the servers shut down temporarily to update an event patch, and then when they came back up in minutes, there it was.

  “The last time I was here was over a hundred years ago,” she told the man, playing up the tale she was spinning, watching as his eyebrows rose to his hairline, “And I’m wondering if some of the traditions are the same. Is there still Fire Juggling?”

  “Yes,” he beamed, “One of our proudest traditions.”

  “How about Firewalking?”

  “It’s coals, really,” he bent down to stage-whisper, “The flames are just for show.” Melia heard a few appreciative laughs. Good. Now for the sales pitch.

  “And how about dancing?”

  “Of course!” the man beamed. “Some say it’s the soul of the entire festival! Showing our appreciation to Helena, Goddess of hearth and home, passion and desire. How else to honor her but with a fiery display of our own?”

  “Excellent!” Melia beamed, beckoning the man closer to her level. Her whisper was actually quiet, meant for his ears only…and perhaps if there were any elves around. “I happen to be an accomplished [Dancer]. I was hoping to give everybody here a good show? I promise it will be worth everybody’s time.”

  The man looked at her, intrigued. He didn’t plan on rejecting her, anyone and everyone was allowed free rein to dance before the flames. But he had a hunch, if she had such a class, that she had something specific in mind. He motioned for her to continue, so she did.

  “After the flame is lit, I’d like to ask that everybody be kept back from the flame to allow me to perform. I know, I know, that might not go over well, but the dance itself will only be a couple of minutes, and I’ll be giving out free buffs.”

  “Oh?” he said, suddenly much more interested. He was debating whether or not to politely decline her request, but now was much more open. Any sort of buff a high level performer could give would be very welcome…and often very expensive. He subtly gave her an [Inspect] and was pleasantly surprised to find he couldn’t tell her level. He was only level 173 himself, so that wasn’t hard to do among adventurers. A buff from even a rank 1 or 2 [Dancer] would be worth the hassle and losing 5 minutes of time, depending on what it actually did. He’d never sat through a [Dancer’s] performance before, but he had friends who had. Mostly, they offered attack buffs and regeneration buffs. Both equally helpful for many classes. He nodded, giving her his blessing.

  And then she asked something really silly.

  “Great! Then…about the ground in front of the pit…my higher level dances have a tendency to be rather…forcefull. I’ll need to cut into the earth if I want to go full out. Is that too much to ask?”

  He didn’t exactly know what she meant at first about damaging the ground around the pit and frowned. Cutting into the earth? Sounded rather risky and dangerous, especially for anybody else wanting to dance with sure footing. As he opened his mouth to deny her, she pulled something out of her inventory.

  It was a massive, golden-silver ring of beauty and death, jagged saw-teeth rimming the edge, glinting like diamonds on every wave-like ridge. The chakram was nearly as tall as she was, reaching up to her chin once she set it on the ground, where, he noticed ominously, it had already eaten into the ground, cutting a thin line. He involuntarily gulped.

  “That…that’s a bit above my pay grade.”

  Fortunately, Captain Greymantle, Baron, local lord, and captain of the guard, was nearby. In fact, he was already walking over, having seen the glint of metal, his keen eyes, trained from years in the military and more than one conflict, alerting him to danger. The man was level 900, or somewhere about, higher than nearly every adventurer that passed through these lands. He would gladly turn the decision over to the captain.

  Captain Greymantle stared down at the gnome, silently judging her.

  Melia, for her part, smiled.

  Which seemed to make everyone else around fidget more.

  The captain spared a final glance at the chakram and the thin line it cut before nodding and heading back to where he was stationed.

  “Well, that’s that,” the Flame Warden said, “You’ll have your performance. We’ll be starting momentarily, so do what you must.”

  Melia had just enough time to scramble all the way back to her friends and breathlessly ramble on to them about showing them something great when a loud explosion boomed overhead. Every eye rose to the sky, watching several red and orange fireworks going off. Melia started tugging on Jessica’s pants, trying to get them to follow.

  “What? What?” she asked, completely distracted. “Where are we going? They’re about to light the fire!”

  As she said that, the Flame Warden, who had to be some sort of Fire [Mage], just finished casting a complex spell. Melia watched as glyphs, invisible to most sight, swirled around and knit magic into reality. A [Flamestrike], she recognized, only seconds before a great pillar of fire erupted like a demonic geyser belched straight from hell, roaring to life as the entire pile of logs burst into flame. Clever, the spell had prioritized flashiness over raw power, most likely for two reasons: one, to awe and amaze, and two, to not instantly turn all the dried out logs to ash. For the wow factor, it did the job.

  “I know!” Melia shouted over the oohs and ahhs rising around her. Her own wonder at the sight was threatening to overwhelm her. “Come on, I’m going to perform! You need to come get good seats!”

  “What?” Ellesea asked, as if coming out of a trance. She had been staring at the spell long after it went off, as if trying to burn the whole incantation into her memory.

  “I’m going to-”

  “Ladies and gentlemen!” the Flame Warden cried out, “Just a moment of your time! I have been told, on good authority, that this will not take too long, and all will leave here enriched! A guest, a traveling [Dancer], has joined us tonight, and offered to ply her trade, giving everyone a boon! May I present to you: the pint sized performer, the lovely gnome, Melia…the Magnificent!”

  Melia cringed. She knew that title was going to bite her, and she forgot to take it off again. Too late now, and at the very least it hyped up her persona as a performer. She felt the eyes of her friends silently judging her, and she ignored how one of them pointedly muttered, “totally a dragon.”

  Without any more time, Melia wove her way to the front, where several guards and militiamen were clearing a perimeter, having already been briefed. She noticed that they only gave her about 4 feet around the entire bonfire…she shook her head, knowing it would cause grumbles, and made them enlarge it to 20. She was planning on going all out, and her weapons were deadly. She was not going to be responsible for somebody getting sliced in half.

  …not that that was what would actually happen to somebody this low level if they came into contact with her chakram after she threw it. They were much more likely to violently explode. Her death-rings were not some sort of anime-esque samurai swords or katanas with impossibly keen, molecular whatever-you-call it physics-breaking impossibilities. They were impossible in their own right, being enchanted, but they were also a quarter of an inch thick. They didn’t slice so much as they ripped and tore.

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  She was not going to be responsible for exploding anybody tonight!

  She pulled out her personal [Changing Room] and stepped inside. Slipping out of her [Reverie] was almost as quick as it took for Y’cennia to jealously complain about her having a portable [Changing Room], and then she dismissed it back into her inventory, revealed in all her harem-pants glory.

  [Dancer] was a hybrid magic and dexterity class, using mana to fuel the spells and buffs while maintaining the speed and agility required to complete complex combos and movements. It was definitely one of the more…fan-servicey classes, and not just because of its appearance. The whole class seemed designed around aesthetics, sometimes more than core gameplay. Her main skills were simply called [Steps], going up in order as combos were reached, starting at [Step 1] before moving to [Step 2], then [Step 3], and so on. There were embellishments, such as [Pirouette] and [Twirl], which could be interspersed to create whirling dervish effects, and enhancements like [Spotlight] and [Flair], drawing attention and amplifying her other effects. This all built into the class’s [Flow Gauge], which ramped her damage and power while increasing costs. The trick was to manage a high output without running out of mana or drawing too much aggro. To cap off a rotation, they had [Finishers] like [Encore], [Take a Bow], or [Final Curtain]. Those ranged from ultimate damage to mana restoration to supreme party buffs, setting her up for the next rotation.

  Melia found that in this new world she didn’t really need to worry about any of that. Her mana pool was so high she could probably combo her [Steps] into the hundreds without worrying about running dry, instead of maxing around 4 or 5. She wasn’t fighting any monsters, and even if she was, her health pool was so huge she could draw all the ire she wanted and never need to worry about losing a fraction of her health.

  Instead, she found she was worried about something the class, despite revolving entirely around rhythm, never dealt with: music. Other classes, like the oft mentioned [Bard], played music, but [Dancers] danced. In game, sprites like colorful music notes and treble clefs bounced around as she played, but her only guidance was her own intuition. If she wanted to listen to music she was limited to the game’s soundtrack or her own computer’s playlist.

  Melia never had a chance to find out if her original body had a good singing voice. She tried to ignore all the people around her staring, waiting for her to start, and called up a memory.

  As a dragon, she found her memory was perfect. That didn’t mean she instantly knew everything she had ever known down to every detail at all times, but if she wanted to remember something, her brain would bring it to the front with perfect clarity. Melia had listened to her fair share of Ebonvale’s soundtrack, but for most things she had her own playlists.

  Melia’s outfit was extremely pink, like most of her clothes were in game, with sheer, floating sleeves, a purple chest wrap and high rise briefs, and strappy sandals that rose over her calves. She had a very light veil that covered her face, but she chose against wearing it for visibility purposes.

  It reminded her of a stereotypical Arabian belly dancer, not that she’d ever seen a belly dancer, Arabian or otherwise, and in truth what it really reminded her of was something quite different. The was another old video game franchise, made by Nintendo, that had countless remakes, one in particular a timeless classic. Perhaps “timeless” was a bit on the nose, considering the particular title she was thinking of. The Gerudo- a race of female warriors -in their desert valley hideout and, most importantly in that moment, its iconic theme music.

  Melia had no instruments. She had been told the famous arrangement was a flamenco, but she didn’t know if that was true and even if it was she couldn’t play it. But she could hum, maybe sing a little. She opened her mouth to test a few notes and was elated to find that they came out in the exact tune and pitch she wanted them to. In addition to being ridiculously overpowered, this body seemed to have perfect pitch.

  Or maybe that was just how dragons were?

  Melia was getting excited, and it was contagious.

  She turned toward her new teammates, Jessica in particular, and started a quick clapping rhythm.

  “Can you keep this up?” she asked as her team started a quick beat. Other people were getting interested, a few joining in the clapping, but she was only paying attention to her team. As soon as they had the beat memorized, she added in a second layer of clapping, effectively doubling the pace. Her team looked a little overwhelmed, but picked up the added tempo.

  Melia took a few delicate, floaty steps toward the center of the empty space where everybody was staring and bowed low. Her legs were partially crossed even as she was bowed, like a coiled spring ready to release.

  If it was awkward for her, singing the iconic melody with “la”s and “da”s, she didn’t let it show. She hummed the intro loudly and paused, just long enough to activate [Spotlight]. In the darkness, only kept at bay by the roaring bonfire, a giant pillar of pure illumination burst into a halo above her head, just as she summoned her two chakrams.

  Melia did not hesitate.

  She may not have known the moves intellectually, as a planned out performance, but her body moved instinctively, as if it had done this for decades at the highest level possible, and such routine movements were comforting muscle memories.

  She began with [Step], which increased the counter to 1, giving her a small window to perform an embellishment. She used [Pause], which wasn’t something so simple as merely stopping her movements.

  In fact she didn’t stop moving at all. She didn’t move forward, but she found her arms pulling her chakrams around, raising the deadly blades up in the air above her head…and slicing them down dramatically. It was an attack, a weak one meant to do chip damage at the start of a combo to build to something more potent, but like everything in the [Dancer] class, it was flashy and eye-catching. Giant sparks fissured off the blades as she brought them down with a whoosh, sweeping them diagonally across her chest as she pivoted and rotated, slicing through the ground like butter, leaving deep cuts in the hard packed earth. As soon as she had made her pivot and brought her arms back up, she felt the time was right, activating [Step] again.

  As the name implied, Melia took a bold step forward. Her knee lifted powerfully as her leg kicked high, bringing her ankle level with her eyes in a stunning display of flexibility Melia herself was shocked to see. She never thought she would ever do the splits, especially not while standing up straight with one leg in the air. While it was still at the apex, she used [Flourish], causing her to rapidly bring her leg back down with force, flipping herself entirely head over heels in a full somersault into a standing position several feet ahead. While she turned in the air, one hand had been raised above her head while the other had been pointed straight down, her arms locked in a rigid line, causing her chakrams to sing as she spun, both turning over rapidly as they made a 360 degree rotation alongside her, making more deep gouges into the ground.

  Melia’s smile was massive and radiant, she let herself loose and was lost in the rhythm of her own humming and groove.

  Reginald Greymantle was not an easy man to impress. Neither did he trust easily. The few times a smile graced his perpetually dour visage was in the presence of his great grandchildren or during a particularly abundant harvest. Even then, the many small scars littered across his lower face more often than not kept his lips pulled down into a stoic frown.

  So Captain Reginald Greymantle, Baron of Hammerfall, retired Marshal of Her Majesty’s Army, and level 912 leader of the militia protecting the kingdom’s most fertile lands, was having a problem. His eyes were telling him a story his brain couldn’t translate. He didn’t know what to do with his mouth slowly falling open in slack jawed wonder and the sudden onset of childlike amazement.

  Greymantle was old, even according to some of the longer lived races, positively ancient by human standards. He was middle aged when he was promoted to Marshal during the Age of Upheaval, when the world was beset by calamities, disaster, and beings so powerful most mortal minds couldn’t fathom. Not the oldest, no, front line brawlers such as himself tended to have shorter lives even considering the extension stats and levels gave them. Several Archmages were in their third centuries, while he was a “mere” 150.

  And the display in front of him was making him feel like he was 15 again, a brand new recruit who rushed out of the house to pick up his first lance.

  [Dancers] were not as common as they once were, though many classes could be said to have surged during the height of the Age of Upheaval. Nowadays, it was still common to see apprentices taking up trades and professions, and [Warriors] were a copper a dozen for any adventurer or army. Performance classes like [Dancers] were usually reserved for theaters and troupes in times of peace like this, meant to entertain, inspire, and provide buffs.

  This [Dancer] was doing all of that, and more. Greymantle couldn’t wait to see what buff everyone in attendance would get once this masterpiece was done. Part of him was scared to find out.

  Because Greymantle couldn’t see her level, meaning this gnome wasn’t your everyday traveler looking to make some coin.

  Her chakrams weren’t just deadly, they were enchanted. He wasn’t high enough level to see their effects.

  He could see her clothing, and was unsurprised to find it was a functional set. The [Sultana’s Favor], 6 pieces with a 3 and 6 piece bonus. The base stats on the chest piece alone raised her Agility by nearly 4000 points, on top of giving her an additional 2500 wisdom. Each piece had more stats than the average rank 7 adventurer, who were considered equal to a company of soldiers by themselves. And the [Sulatana’s Favor]? Had a level requirement. Couldn’t be equipped unless the wearer was level 1000, minimum.

  Madness.

  Absolute madness.

  So no, he did not know the gnome’s exact level, but he didn’t need to. Not to see she was incredibly dangerous, hidden behind that infectious smile and soft looking body.

  He knew that if he attacked her, he would die a horrible, painful death.

  No…that wasn’t right.

  Judging by how those saw blades she twirled around her wrists like playful hoops gouged out packed earth without so much as feeling resistance, his death would most likely be instantaneous. Painless, all things considered.

  Not that he had a death wish. He wasn’t going to attack her.

  He was too preoccupied watching the mesmerizing display, her tiny body moving in bewitching ways, with a shimmy of her hips and a shake of her slender limbs. The bells on her wrists and ankles chimed along to the tune she was humming, creating a magic all of its own.

  Real magic, that commanded the fire itself. He, along with the spellbound crowd, watched the flames flicker to life, forming images in the ever changing tongues of lapping fire. It was a fitting tale for the music, bold, exotic, and yet somehow, it created a sense of longing he could not place.

  In the flames, he saw a young elven boy, assaulting a desert fortress of warrior giantesses. Against all odds, he prevailed in his task, rescuing hostages, humbling the warriors’ prides, and assisting them in their time of need. Apparently, they were thralls under a wicked chieftain who would seek to lead the entire world into ruin.

  As fascinating as the story was, Greymantle could not afford to concentrate solely on the tale being spun. Perhaps, the next time he visited the Royal Archives, he would search for such a tale, just to see how it unfolded. Even now, the elven boy was fighting off two powerful [Mages], casting fire and ice in a place where spirits were supposed to rest.

  But the gnome was still dancing. A regular performer in a troupe should be able to dance forever, but this and that were different worlds entirely. They would never use real attacks. He watched as the [Dancer] activated another [Flourish], the enchanted chakrams screamed out of her hands as she spun them, showering the audience with sparks as they skidded to a halt under backspin, only to leap back into her waiting hands. She had been going full tilt for 10 minutes. From his experience, even the most even tempered monster would enrage after 10 full minutes, and everyone assaulting it would be dead.

  Greymantle had to wonder what manner of beast could survive for so long against such an onslaught as this.

  What little he knew of the [Dancer] class told him each [Step] increased in cost, and yet she had yet to activate a [Finale]. He lost count at 124 steps.

  The only thing he could think of in recent memory that might challenge that terrifying gnome was the reports floating around that a dragon had crossed the mountains.

  He didn’t know what those poor fools in Abbyton were planning on doing about it, but he would see his own grave before he allowed something that powerful to reach his town without a fight.

  Yes, the gnome was powerful. It was strange, something deep in the recesses of his mind told him she looked familiar, but for the life of him, he couldn’t remember any gnomes. Not like her. So it was entirely possible she wasn’t anybody too special…if that could ever be said for somebody with a level higher than himself. But he would use every advantage he could to secure her participation in the morning when he issued the Call to Arms.