"Move faster.... Get into the Prince's Castle, finish that witch, then head straight into the west aisle…"
Standing up, Killan began giving instructions to his girlfriend, who was glued to the PC screen from her cosy gaming chair. She was so deep in the zone that she had squeezed the life out of a tetrapack of juice with the straw and was still absentmindedly sipping from it.
It wasn't really her fault though.
'The Heroes of the Primordial War' was just that addictive. So much so that people actually hired others to unlock new storylines and grab all the hidden rewards.
Killan and his girlfriend Natasha were both skilled gamers. And in a world where rich kids loved nothing more than showing off, the pair had stumbled on a sweet way to earn decent money without ever leaving the apartment.
On top of that, if they uploaded livestreams and clips of tips and tricks on UTube, the earnings turned out pretty decent.
So they took it in turns to play, levelling up the account while saving anything worth uploading for later.
In a way, one could say they had pretty much landed their dream job.
"I'll go make some noodles. You clear this level by then," Killan smiled, pulling the straw away from her mouth.
Natasha did not reply.
However, just as he was about to leave, Natasha shouted, "The arrow keys aren't working! Change it. Quick!"
"Damn it! I only swapped it the day before yesterday," He cursed, yet still reached back to the shelf and pulled out a new keyboard from one of the boxes.
Meanwhile, Natasha carried on playing without missing a beat.
So as not to disturb her further, Killan did not switch on the light and instead made do with his phone's flashlight.
The CPU was down by her feet, but all the front ports were already plugged in.
With no other choice, Killan had to reach round the back.
The phone light could not reach deep enough, so he started feeling around with the plug.
The first attempt failed. So did the next few tries. Frustrated, he decided to locate the empty port first with his bare hand.
But the second he touched it — a massive electric shock surged through him.
"Nnnn…"
Killan tried to call out to Natasha, but his voice could not carry past that broken sound.
Startled by the sudden commotion, Natasha immediately pulled back.
"Killan… Killan… Oh My God!"
Getting no response, she rushed to the switchboard and turned off the PC's power.
At that moment, Killan found himself in an entirely different space. Everything around him was swallowed by darkness.
"Fuck! Where am I? Is this… some kind of coma state?"
He had read that after such shocks, a person could lose consciousness for a while. It was due to either sudden heart fluctuations or nervous system overload.
"No! That's not right. I can still think. I can still see…"
As he corrected himself, a bright light suddenly slammed straight into his face, growing stronger with every passing second.
"Ahh! What the—"
Unable to bear the glare, Killan instinctively shut his eyes and raised his hands to shield them.
He had no idea how much time had passed, but the moment he felt like he could risk opening his eyes, he did.
"Madam! The young master is awake."
An excited voice hit Killan's ear and made him flinch.
It wasn't the voice that forced him to react like that, but rather the language itself, which he had never heard it before, yet strangely, he could understand all of it.
However, there was little time to dwell on that, as the scene before him demanded his attention.
A crystal chandelier hung from the pure-white ceiling above, covered in intricate patterns that caught the light and threw it everywhere
Finding it unusual, Killan tried to sit up, but a sharp pain shot through his waist. Still, it was not bad enough to stop him.
"No, my child, lie down. Lysa, go call the grand healer." A beautiful woman rushed to Killan's side, supporting him gently.
As Killan caught a glimpse of her profile, he was stunned.
Because that face felt strangely familiar.
She possessed those big, watery eyes, sharp cheekbones, and that mature, elegant beauty usually reserved for the red carpet.
But, what really caught him was the simple wooden diadem resting on her head.
"The Witch's Blessing."
He could never forget what that thing actually was.
To the eye, it was nothing more than finely carved wood — but in truth, it was made from the dried bones of a witch. When soaked in water, it would turn water into a green liquid that boosted a player's HP like crazy. Only a handful of characters in the entire game could ever get their hands on it, and among the women, there was only one.
That was Lady Crane.
The mother of the short-lived prince.
And that short-lived prince… was now Killan himself.
"No way I could be inside the game?"
Killan doubted the thought, assuming it was just the result of over-gaming. He closed his eyes, hoping to snap out of the illusion.
But he was wrong.
Nothing changed.
Everything remained exactly as it was. Though his so-called mother's expression tensed after watching his strange behavior.
"Is there any discomfort anywhere?" Lady Crane asked in a trembling voice.
But, before Killan could even respond, the sound of footsteps echoed through the room.
Mother and son turned their gaze to the side, where they saw a pair of women approaching.
Among them, one was elderly, shuffling forward with a wooden staff, while the other was her complete opposite.
She was dressed in a guard's attire, clad in armor and uniform, which gave her a masculine edge.
No, she was very much a woman. Killan could vouch for that after noticing the prominent curves of her chest.
While he rummaged through his hazy memories, the elderly woman grabbed his wrist in a firm grip.
Killan tensed instantly.
"Don't resist," Lady Crane said softly from beside him, gently stroking his hair. "She won't harm you."
The next instant, a thin wisp of green vapour rose from the elderly woman and slipped straight into him.
Killan felt a faint wave of warmth pass through him, but nothing more.
"Aunt Nuwa… Fyn, is he alright?"
Seeing the Grand Healer remain completely silent for a long moment, Lady Crane could no longer hold back her worry.
"This… how is this possible? How?"