His name, outside of the game that had become his second home, was Raphael.

  He came from a large family, a tapestry woven with happiness, kinship, and the warm security of togetherness. He didn’t realize that, beneath the surface, his parents were quietly struggling, hiding their frustrations and grief behind strained smiles. The cracks became more obvious over time; his mother was around the family less, and his father sank deeper into his cups.

  It wasn’t until Raphael was in his late teens that the situation violently came to a head. His mother’s voice became loud and accusatory; his father became violent. That was the final, irreversible straw. The family Raphael grew up with was shattered. The togetherness was replaced by a rigid divide: his brothers, sister, and mother on one side, and he and his father on the other.

  Raphael didn’t want to take sides, nor did he agree with his father’s destructive path, but he couldn’t bring himself to leave him alone. To do so, he feared, would simply accelerate his father's drinking toward an early grave.

  Things spiraled worse. His father lost his job. Raphael had to drop out of school and work to support them, and despite Raphael’s desperate pleading, his father still kept drinking.

  The cancer diagnosis came early enough to maintain his father’s life. The chemotherapy wrecked his body, but he was alive.

  Raphael’s life became a grueling cycle: wake up, provide care for his father, go to work, return home, provide care for his father again, and nothing else.

  He desperately needed something, any kind of escape. Anything to momentarily break the cycle.

  It cost him more than he liked to admit, but he found a full-immersion gaming rig on sale. He picked the game Coro?en for two simple reasons: one, it was new, and two, it was free-to-play.

  He logged on, created his character, and started his second life, his much needed escape from reality, as Grimmblade the Fighter.

  He found a party who understood his sporadic schedule, members who were reliably online when he could find time to play. Two of them were even downloads who lived full-time in the game. It was strange meeting people who weren’t fully “real,” but they were fantastic, and soon his team became his closest, most reliable friends.

  Together, they took on every boss, cleared every dungeon, and carved their way to the top, until they were finally ready to face the World Boss.

  It was a massive dragon, Loxrin the Destroyer: green scales, a stat-debuffing breath weapon, powerful ranged magical attacks, and devastating physical strikes. They started the fight, ready for anything. Grimmblade taunted the dragon, drawing its attention, and then, just as the dragon opened its mouth...

  Alarms blared in the real world. Raphael was violently yanked back to reality. He rushed to his father’s room; his heart was failing. Raphael slammed the button to summon the paramedics and immediately began the life-saving steps he’d been trained to perform.

  Three restless nights in the hospital waiting room, fueled by subpar coffee and surprisingly decent hospital food, passed before he was told his father had stabilized. He was told to go home and get some rest.

  Once home, instead of resting, he logged straight into Coro?en to apologize to his team.

  Only one player was on, which was instantly strange. Two of his teammates were downloads; their real selves must have transferred them elsewhere.

  FeatherFall, the team’s Mage, sat at the respawn fountain, clearly distraught.

  “You’re back, Grimmblade,” she said, wiping a tear from her face. “How’s your dad?”

  “Stable. It was close. What’s going on? Where’s doGevoL?”

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  She nodded. “I’m glad your dad’s okay. doGevoL got transferred out to another game, and… I will be soon too.”

  “Wait, what? What happened?”

  “The game isn’t balanced, Grimmblade. Even with you there, we wouldn’t have had a chance. Loxrin slaughtered us. The rest of the physical players left the game. I’m sorry.”

  “No, NO. You’re joking.” His voice was raw with digital pain. “Months of work and friendship, gone because of one loss? We can rebuild. We can plan. We can...” But he could tell the desperation was useless.

  “I’m sorry,” FeatherFall said softly. “I’m glad someone was here to tell you at least. I’m about to be transfe-”

  Her body dissolved into shimmering pixels as her data was transferred out of the system.

  Grimmblade spent the next few months grinding relentlessly, making himself as strong as physically possible, focusing every spare moment to prove them wrong, to prove the World Boss could be defeated. And he’d do it alone.

  Those cowards.

  Standing before the Destroyer, he faced off, and died. Faced it again, and died. Again and again, until every potion was gone, his level had dropped from 99 to 94, and every shred of hope for the game was annihilated.

  His defeat was the final nail in the game’s coffin. If the strongest player couldn’t even dent the World Boss, what hope did anyone else have in this broken, unbalanced game?

  Mad, defeated, and bitter toward the world he had treated as his escape, he made a decision.

  “This world will end. I’ll speed up the process.”

  So he went to the starting town and killed every player he came across, especially the new ones. He was destroying the escape before they could become attached.

  Until a pathetic Level 1 Cat Beastkin dropped, not loot like rat pelts, but a pastry.

  Plum and Bean Thing Lv 19

  You can tell people you ate a weird food.

  +8% Charisma for six hours.

  Grimmblade paused, then laughed, a genuine, surprised sound. This was something new. Someone was making this extremely stupid dessert in this broken, dying game.

  He took a bite, and, despite the awful name, it tasted surprisingly good; fruity, hearty, and satisfying.

  He decided to go into town to see if he could find the idiot making new food in this dying world.

  He found an empty stall, a hand-painted sign reading Vegan Snacks, and a rather annoyed-looking Mage.

  “You. Have you seen a cat in ugly brown Crafter clothes?” Fizzypop demanded, arms crossed.

  “Uh… yeah. I PWNd her in the forest a few hours ago. Why? She the one who made a weird pastry?”

  The Mage sighed dramatically. “Yes. She makes the weird pastries. My fans want her to make something that looks disgusting, but I can’t find her to put in my request!”

  Fizzypop looked him up and down, their eyes narrowed. “Really?”

  “What?”

  “You said you PWNd her.”

  “Yeah. So?”

  “She’s a Level 1 cat! What’s the point in killing a Level 1 cat? You’re Level 99, you don’t even get XP anymore, so seriously, what the fuck?”

  “This game is dying. It’s better if new players don’t get attached and just find another game.”

  “Pathetic. Yes, the game is dying, so why be a dick to it? That’s like punching someone in hospice care.”

  That stung more than the Mage could have possibly known, the thought of someone physically hurting his father. Grimmblade felt like a heel, shaking his head.

  “I’ll find your cat,” he said, turning to walk off.

  “Tell her I need a pastry that looks awful!” the Mage called after him.

  It took hours. Noobkitty wasn’t in any shop. The NPC bartender said she wasn’t in her room. Finally, the last place to check was the jail, a small cell often used to hold players for minor infractions or NPCs for story reasons.

  There she was, sitting with a sour expression, a sleeping Goblin using her shoulder as a pillow.

  “I’m sorry for PvPing you,” Grimmblade said sincerely through the bars.

  “Fine. I forgive you,” she spat, still annoyed. “I have half an hour left in here before I can get back to what I have to do.”

  “Cooking?”

  “Among other things.” She shook the Goblin off; his head fell to her lap. “How can someone who’s logged off be so annoying?”

  “I’d like to make amends. You’re trying to bring something new to this world, and I’ve only been destroying it.”

  She looked him up and down. “You’re way too high level for my plan. I need Level 1 players.”

  “For what plan?”

  “We’re going to defeat the World Boss. With Level 1 players.”

  Grimmblade started to laugh, then abruptly stopped. The cat was absolutely serious.

  “Seriously? How?”

  “Equipment Fusion.”

  “Equipment Fusion is awful. Players level out of their gear too fast. It’s too hard to get duplicates of high-level...”

  Then it hit him. Level 1 gear.

  Every player started with basic equipment. It was coded so you couldn’t destroy or drop it, only trade or sell it. And who would want useless starter gear?

  “If I get down to Level 1, can I join your team?” Grimmblade asked, feeling a rush of pure, focused excitement for the first time in ages.

  “I don’t know. That’s a lot of dying, and we only have two months until the game ends.”

  “I can do it. Please.”

  She shoved the Goblin’s head off her lap and stood, holding her hand out through the bars.

  Noobkitty Lv. 1 interested you in Fizzypop’s Party

  Accept? Yes/No

  He accepted. It would take a lot of dying, but he could do it. Reset to Level 1.

  “Thank you, Kitty,” Grimmblade said, a genuine smile replacing his usual scowl. “Oh, and the Mage asked me to tell you they want you to make a pastry that looks awful.”

  She shook her head. “Of course they do."