«Timberwolf».
In bright and distinctive font, that ID tag written in English hovered ominously over the head of the menacing creature standing before me. My eyes hovered to the number just below that. A number indicating it's level. A number that, once upon a time, would have struck absolute fear into my heart.
«Lv23».
As the four-legged enemy mob reared it's hind legs, I recognized and predicted it's next movements despite never having fought this enemy in my entire lifespan of seventeen years.
No— I couldn't quite say that. It's true that this specific mob had never appeared in SAO, but it wouldn't be a lie to say that I had fought countless monsters similar to this one in almost every game I've ever played... including the ones that were not VRMMORPGs (or Virtual Reality Massively Multiplayer Online Role Playing Game), but in all those computer games where my opponent was a wolf-like creature.
The position the «Timberwolf» held was undoubtedly one of a preemptive attack. It's joints, while seeming to be composed of nothing but twigs and sticks of various shapes and sizes, looked locked and loaded like a menacing spring-trap.
A low, surprisingly deep growl came from it's bared, wooden teeth. A clear indication of it's intent to introduce me to a world of hurt.
I exhaled, releasing all tension from my muscles, and let my body relax while tightening my grip on the «Standard Iron Sword» I'd equipped from my inventory upon booting the game.
It's weight was comparable to that of your average household broomstick— much too light, in my opinion. I was partial to heavier blades, ones that packed some deadly weight in addition to their sharpness— but the developers of this weapon had kept in mind that it would be used, most likely, by inexperienced beginners.
The «Timberwolf» scraped the ground impatiently and rushed towards me with reckless abandon. Though my eyes were still shut, I could tell it's every movement just from the sound of it's feet against the dirt, it's ragged breath piercing the chilled air around us.
Despite all my initial griping about using a newbie weapon, there was no doubt that the sensation of holding a sword in my hands was a familiar and comfortable one.
A monster charging at me with the intent to kill— this also was familiar to me.
Okay... let's do this.
My eyes flew open as I steadied my body, posing my body and the sword accordingly. Despite this being a different world, my stats still carried over with my avatar, including my «One-Handed Sword» proficiency level of over 150— thus, there was no reason I wouldn't be able to pull off this next move.
As I predicted, the «Standard Iron Sword» in my right hand shone with a brilliant sky blue as my body was automatically carried forwards by the in-game system.
The «Timberwolf» was close now, enough so that I could reach out and touch it with my hands if I so desired. As the distance between it and me drew dangerously close, I drew my body away from it's claws, sidestepping it's frontal assault, and let the in-game system guide my next movements. My body sprung forward and executed an attack with speeds I would never be able to achieve on my own.
"—Haa!"
I yelled out as the first hit of this skill viciously sliced the «Timberwolf» in front of me— a horizontal swing from left to right— followed by another horizontal swing from right to left. Bright red polygons of light scattered instead of blood. Immediately after, my body spun in a full circle and unleashed a third horizontal strike from right to left, from which the blade in my hand then soared upwards and cut deeply into the «Timberwolf» with one final strike. A two-dimensional sky blue rhombus, drawn by my sword, flashed and then scattered into pixels too fine for the naked eye to percieve.
This was «Horizontal Square», a 4-hit consecutive «Sword Skill» and a personal favorite of mine. The system had recognized my earlier motions, known more commonly as «Pre-Motion» for the use of in-game skills, and responded by guiding my avatar's body and blade at a speed normally impossible for a player to achieve on their own, dealing far more damage than if I were to simply swing wildly with my weapon.
The clear light from the rhombus my skill drew shone strongly in the dark of the forest and then quickly faded. At the same time, the HP bar above the «Timberwolf», which I had brought down to about a third of it's health prior, dropped mercilessly to zero without even a single pixel left. It's huge body fell sideways, roaring in pain before it halted awkwardly— then, with a sound similar to breaking glass, it broke into infinite polygons and vanished.
In response to the technique I just unleashed, «Post-Motion» was imposed on my body, keeping me suspended in place for a few seconds. A natural response induced by the system in response to my high-level sword skill which would leave me vulnerable to attacks by mobs or other players. However, a moment had passed and my opponent— that is, the empty air the «Timberwolf» had once occupied— did nothing more than tousle my hair as the system released my body. An icon in the bottom corner of my vision indicated that I wouldn't be able to use «Horizontal Square» for a period of time, the skill having gone entered it's cooldown phase.
I sheathed the «Standard Iron Sword» in a cheap looking leather scabbard strapped to my back as I let out a self-satisfied sigh, now 100% sure that the function of Sword Skills and in-game combat was fully operational.
This world, like many other VR games borne of «The Seed», was capable of supporting the combat system from Sword Art Online, the original Virtual MMORPG that had trapped me and thousands of other unsuspecting players for two entire years, a treacherous game where the death of your character or any outside attempt to log you out of the game would result in the VR console NerveGear to fry the user's brain with microwaves. The one who cleared that treacherous death game was none other than myself, Kirigaya Kazuto, known to some as "The Black Swordsman" but moreso by my username, «Kirito». With the help of dozens of fellow players, including one very special player who commanded her rapier with exceptional skill, I was able to uncover the identity of and defeat the mastermind behind the «SAO Incident», Kayaba Akihiko. Some— many, in fact— knew him as the commander of a popular guild known as «Heathcliff», who commanded a high level of respect and authority over the general playerbase for most of the duration of Sword Art Online's lifetime. That is until the defeat of the 75th floor boss where, in the solemn reverie of the post-battle, I found within myself the resolve to challenge Kayaba to one last duel with the liberation of every player in SAO on the line.
It's been three years since that fateful day.
I didn't know exactly what the developers of this game intended to do with that death game's— rather, Sword Art Online's brilliant but gritty combat system. From where I currently stood, both the art style and graphical quality of my immediate surroundings were more suited for... a children's cartoon than an online game.
I stood in a dark clearing, obviously stationed in the midst of what appeared to be a wild, wooded area. Dark, looming trees grew in dense batches all around, and the sky above me was a foreboding shade of purple with few stars to be seen.
When I had first logged in a few days prior, the ID for the spawn area was assigned [EVERFREE FOREST], indicating that I was indeed in some sort of woods. The simple cel-shaded style of the grass, dirt, trees, various plants, and even the sky above reminded me irresistibly of a certain television show that had picked up steam in the past few months among the otaku crowd here in Japan. It seemed that it was a very slow-to-die series, it's 35th season having been recently re-broadcasted on televisions across the world.
That is to say, it was something my sister Suguha was fond of due to it being "cute," but it didn't pique my interest whatsoever.
However, I was slowly warming up to this cartoon-like world. If anything, the visuals were sort of a relief from the usual gritty and realistic environment enthusiastically reproduced by many game developers today.
On the topic of stylization versus realism, I plant no stake in either side of the debate as I'm far more concerned with in-game systems than visuals.
Notwithstanding the strange need to implement sword skills into this game, perhaps this storybook-esque setting would make for a VR game geared, for the first time, towards a younger audience. Many in the real world were getting more and more used to the idea of letting their children experience virtual realty at an earlier age in spite of the campaigning against such a thing by many parent-teacher associations across Japan.
At least, this is what I had hoped before testing the combat system, which involved enemy mobs that I'm sure would frighten any potential young player characters more than it would excite them.
That «Timberwolf» in particular, which was roughly size of a standard pick-up truck if not larger, had not only it's imposing height but also it's vague hideousness going for it. The design of that enemy, with it's dull green eyes and dark, gritty appearance, was an unnerving mixture of unrealistic and sinister. Really, I had only fought with it because it posed more of a challenge than some of the other mobs I had encountered in this area.
Among those mobs were these somewhat cute creatures with the name «Parasprite» (I never saw one with a level above 2 across all my playtesting sessions) that must have been this world's rough equivalent to a "Slime," being virtually harmless and a little too easy to kill. In fact, hunting them was somewhat mortifying. Perhaps the sensation could be compared to slashing your sword at a puppy or plush toy.
I sighed and shook these irrelevant thoughts from my mind.
In response to a job offer I received a few weeks prior from a mysterious new game studio who was producing a VRMMO under an existing intellectual property, I had transferred my character from my mainstay game Alfheim Online to this one in order privately beta test all of Equestria Legends Online's— ELO for short— functions. The insistence that I transfer my character over from ALO was made by the developers for reasons unknown, but doing so was in fact part of the terms of my contract. I could only assume that having a player with pre-existing high stats do some testing was helping to provide the developers with valuable data that other testers with bespoke player avatars couldn't imitate. In doing so, I ensured that every single option and action allowed to the player so far was working as intended. At the end of each day, when I logged out, a digital report would be forwarded to the developers. This included notes on material harvesting, object physics, menu functionality, environment response, pain absorption, and a multitude of other things.
The result of my painstaking and tedious efforts? Well, aside from a handsome paycheck at the end of each session, I couldn't draw any conclusion as to what kind of game this was meant to be, besides the fact that it seemed to be working just fine. The visuals suggested towards an innocent, playful gameplay experience. The combat was pretty bog-standard SAO starter kit in it's nature, and the interactions with the environment and mobs were all run of the mill. I was told that there was a magic system in this game— true enough, there was a bar of blue pixels floating beneath a larger green one in the top right corner of my vision. This indicated that I was granted a starting amount of MP (known colloquially as Magic Points by the gaming community) to use spells, but it was clear through personal testing that none of the ones I'm used to in ALO existed in this game's universe and seeing as I wasn't given any to test I could only assume that the developers had decided the system was more than ready to ship. All things said and done, it was not a game that excited me personally but I was heartened to know that a VRMMO that can be safely enjoyed by all ages but particularly a younger demographic was set to launch soon. Perhaps, and this is only perhaps, the launch and potential success of Equestria Legends Online would break that barrier between non-VR and VR enthusiasts.
With the matter settled in my heart, I made a fist with my right hand, extended my index and middle finger, and drew an invisible line in front of me. This summoned the the main menu— the primary means of accessing a your items, maps, skills, and inventory— which appeared to me in the form of a thin, chest-height floating interface. I scrolled down the sidebar to the right until I reached the Settings, indicated by a gear icon. A few sub-menus appeared as I tapped on it: they were «OPTIONS», «DM» (standing for "Direct Message," a way to send other in-game players mail), «HELP» (which would call a GM or Game Master), and..
...there it was. «LOG OUT».
I know it was a pretty stupid thing to feel, but on many occasions, I marveled at the sheer simplicity of logging out of a game. A simple tap, an electronic jingle, and the console would eject you from this world into reality. It was so simple. I think I even spent a few moments just logging in and out of «ALO» on some days while savoring the sensation of exiting the game— a privilege I and many others longed for more than anything else back in the SAO days.
Even now, standing here after a couple of days of logging in and out of this game, my eyes still fondly surveyed the window asking me if I was sure I wanted to log out of the game, along with the distinctive «YES» and «NO» buttons beneath.
I tapped the latter option and sent the menu away with an upwards flick of my index finger. My job here wasn't done yet.
After all, there still remained the last item on my checklist: NPC interaction.
I had saved this until last. Really, it was the easiest to clear out of everything I'd already accomplished, but the simple fact of the matter was that I could test 99% of this game's base functionality in that thirty meter clearing in the Everfree Forest while interacting with this world's denizens would have me leave the woods and explore the unknown. I was starting to feel rather attached to this plot of land in the woods, and combat testing wasn't even a challenge in this clearly high-density PVE (or Player versus Environment) zone. Even going back to my SAO days, NPC interaction wasn't something I was very good at... or perhaps, that was just my introversion as a young gaming addict speaking.
In any case, a job was still a job and the terms were clear. I was to rigorously test and ensure the quality of this game in all of it's constituent parts, leaving nothing out. The company managing the servers had, of course, multiple testers such as myself performing a similar role, though to my understanding they had been given different spawn points in the world to do similar tests in separate environments. I hadn't run into one of them yet, but that's just as well when I had yet to venture very far from my comfortable plot of land within the Everfree Forest. Today, the last of my playtesting sessions, would be the day that I finally take wing and leave my nest of comfort.
Surely, I thought, there was no way that talking to a horse-shaped NPC would elicit anywhere near the same awkwardness as talking to a human-shaped stranger in the real world? Perhaps their dialogue trees were even simplified to account for the demographic for this game?
With that unfounded optimism, I gathered myself and set out towards the nearest town indicated by a house-shaped icon on my mini-map. I had a direction to follow, now all that remained was to keep going until I found my first interactable NPC.
Half of an hour had passed. Time spent in virtual reality translated exactly to time spent in the real world, and seeing as I had already spent the previous thirty six minutes stress testing the game's combat parameters, I was starting to get antsy in my eagerness to log out of Equestria Legends Online and into Alfheim, where I had planned to do some solo hunting for a rare material tonight before bed. Thus, it didn't help that no matter how much ground I covered, the end of the forest was nowhere in sight. I decided to check my mini-map again, just to make sure nothing was out of the ordinary... the town icon was still pointing me forwards. I swiped to open my general map, hoping to glean some valuable information, only to find that the contents only showed the areas which I'd previously visited in about an approximately half mile radius. Thus the only thing shown to me was the clearing I started in and the straight line I had just plotted from there.
I sighed and dismissed the map, opening up my inventory with vain hopes that I would spot a fast travel item somewhere within my belongings. But of course, there was no such thing. Even as a beta tester to this game, I was not granted any special equipment by the developers beyond the gear you would start with as a new player. This included a light-weight set of clothes and armor, a small box containing a basic weapon of your selection (among them being a sword, a hammer, and a spear— the choice I made was obvious, I should hope) and a small set of HP and MP replenishing crystals in case of emergencies. In most games, especially in MMOs, there was usually either an item or in-game function for returning to a designated spawn point. I would assume this to be true for ELO, but given my unique position as a beta tester, my starting area was most likely designated as that spot in the Everfree Forest. Not that I could test this theory— fast travel items were not included in my starting gear, and the "return to town" button that most games include as a failsafe for when players get themselves stuck in unintended locations wasn't configured in my menus and thus was painted in an un-selectable grey.
After exhausting all possible avenues, I decided to keep pressing onward. Just how long would it take to reach town, I wondered...
As I continued cutting a path through the forest, my ears picked up a noise. The rustling of leaves, the pounding of dirt, the heave of animal breathing... an enemy presence? I didn't doubt that the Everfree Forest was most likely filled with hostile mobs, but I was hoping that as I approached what I assume to be the edge of it's boundaries that any monster activity would begin to peter out. My assumption was quickly proving false as the next noise to grace my ears was a harsh, shrill scream—
"HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELP!"
My mind was filling with red alert signals at rapid-fire speed. That was another person's voice, not a monster. The first I had ever heard since I first started beta testing ELO. Was another player in danger? Perhaps, a less combat oriented tester who had unwillingly walked into a PVE encounter? If so, then their character was surely at risk. Their life— their real, actual living and breathing body— was not in any danger even if their avatar were to be killed in this virtual world. The AmuSphere was engineered to prevent that one possibility above all else. Still, for purposes of beta testing, it wouldn't really do to have your character die in the middle of a session unless they were purposefully seeing if the in-game player death feature was working as intended. Were that the case, I would be content to move along and pretend like I hadn't heard anything but that scream... that heartfelt cry for help was clearly an indication of anything but.
I rushed forward, my heartbeat slowly but surely rising as I pumped virtual blood through my limbs in order to deftly bob and weave over tree roots, bushes, and branches. Within seven seconds, I was extremely close the source of the noise I'd heard. With a powerful leap, I left a thicket of woods behind me and entered a clearing that looked as though it were the entrance to the Everfree Forest. I landed squarely on my feet and assumed a combat stance in seconds, my right and gripping the handle of the blade on my back, and scanned the area before me with narrow eyes.... before opening them wide. Nothing could have prepared me for what would come next.
«Manticore».
«Lv55».
An imposing creature stood on it's hind legs, bellowing into the night sky with a resounding roar. It's identity was clear from both it's appearance and the name tag floating above it's name. This was a well known enemy archetype in any fantasy setting, a legendary animal with the head of a man, the body of a lion, and the tail of a scorpion.
Several things were not adding up. Why was this enemy mob, so obviously superior in both attack power and HP to the Timberwolves I had fought in the heart of the Everfree Forest, here at what I had to assume was the edge of the zone? Could this behavior be caused by some sort of bug? In which case, it's a good thing I caught it with my own eyes so I could report it to the developers later. But most importantly, what was the source of it's anger? And who was it threatening? For my answer, all I had to do was look to my left.
A horse, I immediately thought. But no— in this world, they're called ponies. The developers were quite adamant on that point. There were two of them, one collapsed and seemingly in a great deal of pain while the other stood in front of them in an expression of selflessness.
«Roseluck».
«Lv4».
That was the ID floating above the injured pony. The sickly blue of a nasty bruise was prominent on one of her rear hoofs, which she made a futile attempt to stand on before the weight of her body made her tumble over once more. I could faintly see her HP bar from where I stood— there was a large gap separating her actual health from the maximum amount, and the bar was flashing yellow.
I shuddered at the sight. A yellow HP bar back in SAO carried a very real risk of death. Again, that wasn't the case here, but I could never, ever shake the terrible feeling in my stomach when I saw another player on the brink of losing their virtual life.
On that note, I moved my gaze over to the pony standing in front of Roseluck and focused on the words above her head.
«Fluttershy».
«Lv9».
She stood before the Manticore on unsteady legs, with a petite frame with creamy yellow fur and a long, luscious pink mane. Needless to say, these creatures only held a superficial resemblance to the animals I'm familiar with in the real world. If you hadn't told me they were meant to be ponies, it would have taken me a few minutes to guess what the unabashedly cutesy mascot character I was staring at was meant to be.
While what Fluttershy was doing was incredibly brave, the manticore towered over her in a manner that made me think of whale about to swallow krill.
"M... Manny?" The pony spoke with a voice... a human voice. And a very, very soft one at that. She wasn't the one who had screamed for help— then, that was surely the one behind her— but seeing the creature talk to the Manticore in such a calming, albeit worried tone was throwing me through multiple loops.
"What's wrong?" She stammered, "D— do you have another thorn stuck in your wittle pawsies again...?"
The Manticore's red eyes narrowed at Fluttershy. I wanted to scream at the horse— creature— girl?— pony to run away as fast as possible as the mighty beast drew one of his muscular arms back to swing on the defenseless Fluttershy, then swatted powerfully at her outstretched hoof. Luckily, the pressure of wind created by the Manticore's swing had pushed Fluttershy well away without their bodies making any contact. She yelped and fell harmlessly backwards, close to where Roseluck was still prostrate from her injury.
"Manny, please! This isn't like you! Please calm down!" The pink-haired mare tearfully pleaded with the powerful beast as if it were her pet. While this was bewildering to me, it wasn't as if there was no precedent for taming wild monsters in games. In fact, one of my gaming pals was one such aficionado of the "beastmaster" archetype. But this scene unfolding before my eyes? I couldn't imagine it ending any other way than badly. Regardless of whether or not the Manticore was, in fact, a familiar or similar pet-type entity to the one known as Fluttershy, I had seen enough.
Roseluck and Fluttershy— these were either NPCs or beta testers in a new type of player avatar, but that mattered very little to me. Their bodies and faces were not human— this didn't matter to me either.
What made my body move on instinct was the sound of their whimpers and unquestionably terrified expressions. These two were clearly afraid for their lives. If I didn't do something now, I would be remiss to call myself a man, much less a veteran gamer who could help and protect newbies. Consequences be damned.
The first thing I had to do was draw it's attention.
"Huuaaargh!" I let a sonorous battle cry out from deep within my chest as I rushed forward, my sword unsheathed and ready for combat.
My recklessness had worked. The Manticore immediately turned to face me, it's eyes red and jaw agape with foam and saliva gathering obscenely at the edges of it's open mouth. As I got closer, the finer details of this beast were revealed to me, including a system icon next to it's sizable HP bar. A purple square with a tiny illustration of a human figure being assaulted on all sides of it's brain by violent, swirling black lines. I recognized this status effect immediately: «Frenzied». This indicated a few things when it was applied to a player character, mainly a prolonged period of audio and visual distortion for whoever was afflicted by the debuff. This was easily remedied by either a common-grade elixir or simply with time— the maximum duration of this status effect was five minutes without any outside interference. In monsters, however, the rules were entirely different. The «Frenzied» status effect not only gave them increased aggression, but a complete and total loss of reason and logic. Some enemies even gained additional attack power and damage reduction in this state, which was just the cherry on top of the cake. I couldn't tell at a glance if that was the case with the Manticore, but it mattered little when I was already barreling towards it. There was a distance of several meters separating us, but I could tell the beast was sufficiently aggroed onto me and ready to close that gap in no time at all.
Though our clash was inevitable, I had to reach him first before he reached me. Level and stat differences aside, the hulking frame of the Manticore would surely push me back were I to meet it on equal footing, thus it was up to me to catch it off guard.
I knew what I had to do. This was a movement I had practiced countless times. While sprinting, I lifted my «Standard Iron Sword» and placed it on my shoulder. The familiar shweeen! noise of a sword skill activation sounded off in my ear as the Level 1 sword in my hand glowed a bright cyan blue.
The world around me slowed down. Nothing existed in my field of vision save for my sword and the Manticore. My right foot was still mid-air, but the moment it met the ground, that was when everything would be set into motion.
0.4 seconds left till contact.
The look in the Manticore's eyes remained the same, bloody and enraged. Yet I could immediately feel a very, very slight change in it's stance.
0.3 seconds left till contact.
I had been mostly spamming basic skills like «Vertical» and «Slant» during my time beta testing in the heart of Everfree Forest. The «Horizontal Square» I'd used on a Timberwolf earlier that evening was, quite frankly, just for fun, and to test to see if the system could handle a more complex weapon art, or «Sword Skill». It was clear that everything you could do in ALO, you could also do in ELO, but what I was about to attempt was still a gamble.
0.1 seconds left till contact.
The time for hesitation was over.
Go! That thought exploded in my brain as my right foot met with the earth, then propelled me forward like a rocket as I raised my glowing sword in the air. My «Standard Iron Sword» traced a brilliant line through the night sky as it made contact with the Manticore's abdomen. I pushed my blade through that completely virtual yet solid flesh with a fierce roar.
And in an instant, I had reappeared on the opposite side of the Manticore in a kneeling position, the glow on my sword slowly fading away while red pixels floated off it's blade and into the air.
«Sonic Leap». A charge-type Sword Skill that consists of a single top to bottom vertical slash, allowing the user to strike from over twice the distance of an average bladed thrust in an instant. That was the sword skill I used to not only bridge the gap between me and the Manticore, but deal significant damage to it's abdomen, the only area on its body that wasn't occupied by an animal head or limb— what I could only assume was it's weak spot.
I quickly spun around to confirm my suspicion. The frenzied Manticore's body, recoiling from the force of my strike, had fallen onto it's side and roared in protest of what must have, to it, been an unfairly fast attack compared to the swipe of it's claws. Above it's head, I could see the Manticore's hefty health bar dropping until it stopped at around the 45% mark, causing the color of his HP to blink from green to yellow. If I had just been using a better weapon, that value would surely have been a lot lower... I may have even been able to snag the kill then and there. My stats were robust enough for that to be a possibility.
After the system's cooldown released my body from inaction, I prepared my battle stance anew and watched the Manticore with sharp eyes. Whatever happened now, I no longer had the element of surprise. It would be no shock now if the Level 55 Manticore overpowered my avatar, but that was fine as long as it gave the helpless creatures around me ample chance to run away.
But in an unexpected turn of events, the Manticore did not immediately return fire. It scrambled to it's feet, it's expression still as beastly and defiant as ever, but I could see it making a movement to retreat as it began to back away from me. The gash where I had driven my blade was not pouring out blood and viscera as it would in the real world, but rather a glowing surface of bright red pixels in the shape of a wound. It growled and roared at me in a wild display of aggression, keeping its focus locked on the swordsman in front of it but nevertheless became smaller and smaller in my cone of vision until it eventually turned and dashed off into the Everfree Forest's depths.
I remained still for a moment, not letting my guard down for even a moment. What if it was coming back with reinforcements? But after nearly fifteen seconds had passed in total silence, I felt it was safe to exhale.
I could only make assumptions about what had just occurred. The creatures of this world were clearly not familiar with swordsmen... or, rather, they must not be used to mankind at all if the shape of your average player character was that of a small horse. Not only that, but I had managed to deal significant damage to it while being not even a fifth of it's size. «Frenzied» or not, these things and more must have introduced so many unknown variables to it's AI that it shut down all other options and elected to flee. At least, that's my best guess as a beta tester.
I raised my blade and swiped it downwards, casting off what little "blood" remained on it's surface as a bunch of red pixels were dispersed into the air. The «Standard Iron Sword» in my hand was surely a generous chunk of points down from the durability it had started with when I first equipped it, but it served me well in that time.
Now then, enough about swords and monsters. I turned to face the two player avatars behind me, the ponies known as Roseluck and Fluttershy. When I met their fearful, trembling gazes, I immediately wished that the Manticore would have stayed and ripped me apart.
"Um..." I raised a hand in a weak display of greeting, "Hey there. Are you two okay?"
No words, only pure confusion and terror. Roseluck and Fluttershy looked at me, then at each other, then back at me. I could practically hear their teeth chattering. There was no way these were NPCs, right? These mannerisms were just so... organic. Alive. Human, even. This only served to confuse me further— how did these two beta testers end up in my neck of the (literal) woods? What got them so riled up over a monster? Sure, it looked and sounded frightening, but it was nothing compared to the horrors I'd faced in Aincrad... though, I realized quickly that I was being unfair to these two by comparing our experiences. They were most likely newbies to the VRMMO genre and were beta testing this game's non-combat features— it was only natural that they respond like that to a big scary enemy.
"Uh... um... let's see here." I opened my menu while lamely monologuing and procured a healing crystal. This worked the same way it did in Sword Art Online. All I would have to do is activate it, then hold it up to Roseluck's injury. It would locate the nearest wound and get to work immediately. It was a handy, precious resource that I was loathe to ever use in SAO but I saw no reason to skimp on using it now.
As I turned to face the two ponies, I was met with... an empty patch of dirt. I looked up towards the horizon and saw Fluttershy flapping her wings wildly whilst holding onto Roseluck's torso, making a mad dash in the opposite direction of myself and the Manticore.
"No way..."
I stood there and stared with my mouth agape.
I was in my menu for a mere few seconds, and the two were already dozens of meters away? Did Fluttershy activate some sort of ability that was even faster than a sword skill in order to run away from me?
I was frozen for a moment, feeling quite silly with the still glowing healing crystal in my hand and my sword in the other.
Ah, the sword. The «Standard Iron Sword» that I still held in my right hand. The two had just seen me use it to dispatch a creature multiple times my size, and I hadn't even done them the courtesy of sheathing it before addressing them. It was no wonder they were so scared.
Still, it's not like they weren't familiar with the sight of a human being, right? After all, once they logged out of «Equestria Legends Online», they would be right back in the real world where none of this mattered.
That... is assuming that they're beta testers like myself and not NPCs. But I had already theorized that there was no way they could possibly be the latter, so how...?
I shrugged, sheathed my «Standard Iron Sword», and promptly clicked on the button that returned my healing crystal back into my inventory. You ran into all sorts of people in games. Surely this was just some sort of weird, isolated event.
In any case, it was time to return to my goal of NPC interaction. If Roseluck and Fluttershy were in fact beta testers then I don't believe that exchange (I realize calling it such is very generous considering we didn't exchange a single word with each other) would count towards my report. It was time to head towards town, which I realized after checking my mini-map and the arrow-shaped signpost to my right— "Ponyville," it said— would have me following in Roseluck and Fluttershy's tracks. Perhaps this would present a good opportunity to clear up the air and introduce them to this game's combat systems? Though, I'm not really sure how you'd use sword skills in a pony avatar.
That was another thing that was bothering me. Though I was briefed on this being a "world of ponies" by the developers, it hadn't occurred to me that the player avatars would be ponies themselves. For starters, the anatomy would be much too difficult for your average player to adapt to and even more of a nightmare to code, I would imagine. Why then, had I spawned in as my normal looking, human self while the two ponies I'd just met were, well, ponies? Was I given this form purely for testing purposes? I'm not sure how I would have reacted had I loaded in as a small horse, so perhaps a concession was made to beta testers with prior VRMMO experience for accessibility reasons.
Still, my mind was buzzing with further questions. The developers behind Equestria Legends Online— I haven't yet mentioned them by name, have I? They're a company known as AL1CORN under the parent company HASBOR. The former is a relatively new in-house studio that had been given the ELO project by their much, much larger parent corporation. I had a general understanding of the megacorporation nature of HASBOR, who was responsible for manufacturing toys and children's media, but given how new AL1CORN was to the gaming scene I didn't have much time to dig into their history before beta testing had begun. What I did know was that at the end of each session, I was told to report my findings using the in-game messaging function (the visuals on it were quite unique— every time you sent another player mail, your message would be consumed by a pixelated dragon and assumedly delivered to the recipient via magic) to a player known as "Celes."
In short, I was about to write an exceptionally long bug report, complete with my own personal questions to this "Celes" player, whom I assumed was a GM in this game. Better that I do it now before I forget, right? A quick message, a quick jaunt over to the nearest town (which I now assumed wasn't far), and I would be free to enjoy the rest of my evening at my leisure.
I made a fist with my right hand, extended my index and middle finger, and drew an invisible line in front of me. I scrolled down the sidebar to the right and navigated the submenus... «OPTIONS»... «HELP»... aha! There it was, «DM».
Out of sheer curiosity, I scrolled further to check if it was still there.
«LOG OUT».
I blinked once. Then twice. Then three times.
My fingers trembled. My brain trembled. My vision went blurry with confusion.
My ability to leave this world, Equestria Legends Online, in the form of a button. A simple tap, an electronic jingle, and the console would eject you from this world into reality. It really was so simple.
And yet, that button was nowhere to be seen.