"How much time do you have to play today? What do you work for? Are you someone important? Since when do you play Falan? Is this your first game? What did you eat this afternoon? How was your day? Are we hunting salamander's again? Can you show me the shield you bought yesterday? And…"
I was barely able to understand one or two out of his torrent of questions. Should I try to avoid him again? Although I knew children could be exhausting, I never expected…this.
The density of questions he asked in one minute exceeded all questions I was asked in the last two weeks added together.
I pondered if it would be okay to throw the new shield at him to shut him up and show him the item at the same time, but decided against it. Only in case he used his short swords and damaged the new shield like the old one, not because I was still a tiny bit afraid of him. At least I knew I could snatch his potions in the future, just by guilt-tripping the innocent kid. He was just too gullible and I would be teaching him important lessons for life - after I showed him thoroughly how easily he could be scammed, of course.
"Before I answer any of your questions, let's establish a rule: No more than three questions per day. And I won't disclose any of my private life, so you can save your breath. Now, what do you want to know?" He finally calmed a bit after registering my words and thought a few seconds before asking: "What should I call you?"
Good question. I couldn't just call myself Mystyval again. I loved this name because I lived with it for a few months. In this time, I became Mystyval Ru-ná, or as Coven sometimes called me, Mysty. But the times when I happily responded to this endearment were gone, forever lost. And I would never want to hear anyone call me Mystyval or even more Mysty ever again.
But since I just forgot to name my new avatar, I was still named [player6785693].
"I'll think about it. Next question?"
"Since when do you play Mysteries of Falan?"
"I bought Mysteries of Falan a few months ago, but didn't play often. I just liked other games more."
"And what is your class?"
"It's a useless subclass of a magician. As soon as I reach a larger town, I'll try to change it. Getting it was a stroke of misfortune I encountered." I paused, noticing how I either lied or didn't give a satisfactory answer to any of those questions. But I decided not to care too deeply and change the topic: "Now that I answered your questions, Why don't you tell the answer of those to me as well. Since I already know your name, you can leave it out."
"I never played it casually. I'm a professional."
I burst out laughing, and the artificial voice made it into a deep, husky feast for sore ears. It was strangely beautiful, as if I turned into a dark sexy villain of a movie and laughed in maniac sexy. Well, back to the elf who looked at me in confusion.
"You'll get over your eighth-grader-syndrom one day, I believe in you."
"I am a pro gamer!" he yelled seemingly slightly offended.
"Sure, sure. And what is your class?"
"...elven vanguard." he said with a slight frown.
An elven vanguard? If there is a (very annoying) race competition, it will always be elves who mark the first spot. They were basically born with arrogance, deceit and an unhealthy portion of vanity. Some of them were maniacs who claimed every plant holy, others revered animals. In short: Elfs were a bunch of lunatics with a beauty package plastered on their whole body. They all had nice hair in the wildest colors, beautiful body parts which they could shape as they desired and a circulation-system that allowed them to basically perform beauty surgeries on themselves with only minimal risks. They had a higher aptitude for magic, were either stronger or faster, some even both than an average human and they would live a lot longer than humans. Although their offspring weren't as high as human's, it was only because they mostly were lunatics who would stay in their rebellious teenager phase way too long. Adults often had more offspring, but the mortality in their teens was the highest. Maybe because those teen-parents were too irresponsible to care or educate their children. So it was understandable, that they were revered, sought after, in some countries even traded as slaves because of their traits.
But if it was found out that elven slaves were sold, even the local crime syndicates had to beware of the elven troops which were often led by elven lords, cold, vicious elfs who had many dozen years of combat experience leading troops who slaughtered every slaver and confirmed buyer they could get their hands on. Although not all elfs were united, a majority followed the elven queen. Under her rulership, she pursued slavers harshly and purged anyone who fell victim to them.
Another large faction under a self-proclaimed elven emperor, even used any opportunity they could get to show their power and demonstrate their might. Going as far as to secretly invade the capitals of other countries just to kill a bunch of criminals and free a handful of humans and elves. At least in the eyes of the local nobility and kings, both of the factions were disturbing and to be feared. They overstepped diplomatic boundaries and were unafraid of war or any other conflict.
Their troops were just too terrifying. And if the elven population would unite against one or a few enemy countries, they could wipe them out easily. So, no one dared to provoke a war with them.
And this player, who could swing his sword a bit claimed himself an elven vanguard, a class even higher than an elite elven lanceman and almost comparable with elven nobility?! Well, someone was either lucky or spent a lot to build this account. I presumed the second option to be the most realistic.
"Well, at least you are not completely useless. If you level up properly, you can grow into a pro gamer one day." I said, suppressing the urge to pat his head. Not because I didn't want to but because of both of his swords and the little hair crown which would have hindered me from freely patting this shiny hair. The game was way too unfair with this perfect graphics. If I was still in my teens, it might have given me severe complexes regarding my body and looks. But since I had time to come to accept that I would never look (or wanted to look) like a model, my life certainly got easier. If I ignored the episodes in which people from my social circle told me how I should look or that I should try their perfect pointers against random pimples or blemishes I sometimes got when I was stressed out. And since they kept telling me this stuff, they stressed me out all the time. Until I distanced myself from them so I wouldn't have to listen to them anymore. It took so much pressure from my shoulders that I wondered why I didn't try this before.
But for teenagers or children like my new companion (I didn't know his real age nor when the teens started officially), this game held certain dangers. Like social media, it presented all players with unrealistic beauty standards (as an elf you could literally morph your body into any shape, which was why they were so popular with girls) or realize your fantasies (beastmen, shapeshifters and creatures of the night were also very popular for...u-hm...let's say "scientific" reasons).
Anyway, I didn't pat the elves head, I continued on with our conversation.
"Since you answered those questions and properly introduced ourselves…"
"You didn't even have a name I can use to address you!" he disrupted me, making me quirk my eyebrow before continuing as if he didn't: "...why don't we proceed with hunting? I only have about one hour irl left before I need to go offline. We can still make the best of it and try to improve our coordination."
"Sure!" he said, sounding a tad bit cheerful. But it could've also been my imagination.
Together, we proceeded to hunt. I even forgot the errands I wanted to run in Bronning and only logged out after the hunt with the elf. Massaging my temples, then my neck which felt a tad bit stiff, I shifted to the bathroom and brushed my teeth. Tired eyes stared back from the mirror, eyebags in all shades of purple and blue clearly stood out from my skin. Another pimple was growing under my bottom lip. I yawned and blinked the wetness from my eyes, feeling the sleepiness dissipate for a few seconds. I had to face the facts:
Since I didn't plan to play Falan for long, I had to find some other companion for the elf before I ditched him. Although I had no problem ditching an adult, a child could take it to its heart.
"Fuck." I spit the toothpaste in the sink and rinsed the toothbrush with water. It was undeniable. I had fun while playing and felt alive. This play was dangerous. I could easily burn myself and others with the flames I was playing with. But the thrill still fascinated me nonetheless.
Irrevocably. Was I so spineless that I couldn't stop playing a game?
"I will leave it. I swear I will leave Falan behind after his funeral. It won't be hard at all. I'll make sure of it." I mumbled as I creeped under my sheets and burrowed my head in my fluffy pillows and hugged one of my motif cushions. This time, it was an avocado with a face, legs and arms protruding as well as a little branch on its head. It resembles the hair crown of a certain elf a bit. I thought, falling asleep in the next seconds.