Chapter III: Into the Wilds

The holographic camera drone hovered silently before me, its lens fixed on my face. I adjusted my hair—a cascade of chestnut hues that fell neatly over my shoulders—and took a deep breath. My emerald-green blouse caught the ambient light perfectly, and the soft makeup I’d applied added just the right amount of polish to my look. Authenticity with professionalism—that was my signature.  

“Hey, everyone!” I began, my voice upbeat and warm. “It’s me, Nusrat. I hope you’re all having an amazing day! Today, I want to talk about something absolutely mind-blowing—Nytherra Unbound.”  

I leaned slightly toward the camera, letting my enthusiasm shine through. “This isn’t just a game. It’s a whole world. I’m talking fully immersive, live-your-life-in-it levels of realism. Every little detail—every sight, sound, smell—it’s all there. It’s like stepping into another reality. And the best part? You can meet me there.”  

I paused for dramatic effect, letting the words sink in. “That’s right! I’m inviting all of you to join me in Nytherra. Create your own adventure, and who knows? Maybe our paths will cross. Just look for Nusrat the Fated, wandering the Northlands.”  

 The drone’s recording light blinked off, and it floated back to its dock. I sighed, leaning back against my chair. “That should do it,” I murmured to myself.  

The faint glow of Dhaka’s skyline spilled through the blinds, casting streaks of light across my room. I took a moment to reflect on the video before lying down on my bed and reaching for the NeuroBand. The sleek device fit snugly around my temples, its soft hum signaling its activation.  

“Time to clock in,” I whispered.   

* * *

The transition was seamless. One moment I was lying in my bed, and the next, I was waking up in the warm, rustic room above the Frosted Mead Hall. The fur blanket was heavy against my legs, the scent of pine and wood smoke faint but comforting.  

Logging out of Nytherra Unbound was straightforward—just find a safe zone, lie down on a bed you owned or rented, and save your progress. Logging back in was equally effortless, placing you exactly where you’d left off.  

I stretched as I sat up, the leather of my simple armor creaking slightly. My tunic fit snugly, the reinforced patches along the shoulders and chest offering some semblance of protection. My brown boots were scuffed from use, and the hunting bow Aedan had given me was slung across my back.  

Satisfied, I made my way downstairs.   

* * *

The main room of the Frosted Mead Hall was alive with activity. The crackling hearth cast a warm, golden glow, its light dancing across the wooden beams overhead. The walls were adorned with trophies of hunts past—antlers, mounted wolf heads, and the occasional rusted sword. The scent of roasting meat mingled with the sharp tang of spiced mead, creating an atmosphere both hearty and inviting.  

Villagers and adventurers filled the space, their laughter and chatter blending into a low hum. I recognized a few player characters among them, their glowing badges and health bars briefly flickering into view as I focused on them.  

I took a seat at the bar, catching the bartender’s attention with a small wave.  

“What can I get you?” he asked, his voice steady and welcoming.  

“A meal,” I replied. “And something to drink.”  

He slid a tankard of mead toward me. “Start with this. Nothing beats it after a long day.”  

I sipped the mead cautiously, marveling at the balance of sweetness and spice. It left a warmth in my chest, spreading through me like liquid fire.  

As I waited for my meal, a nearby player character—a heavily armored woman with a two-handed sword strapped to her back—caught my attention.  

“First time in the Northlands?” she asked, her tone curious but friendly.  

I nodded. “Yeah, it’s massive. I’ve barely scratched the surface.”  

Her grin widened. “If you want to see more, you’ll need a horse. Trust me, getting around on foot is a nightmare.”  

“I don’t have the funds for that yet,” I admitted.  

Another player, a bearded man in light leather armor, chimed in. “Check out the adventurer’s guild or the notice board in the square. You’ll find plenty of quests to earn some coin.”   

* * *

The guild building was impossible to miss. Its stone walls were adorned with banners depicting crossed swords, and the heavy wooden doors were flanked by lanterns that burned with an eerie blue flame. Inside, the air buzzed with energy.  

Adventurers filled the space, their voices overlapping as they discussed missions, traded gear, or boasted about their exploits. The guild’s interior was grand but rugged—polished wooden floors, high vaulted ceilings, and walls lined with shelves holding tomes and maps. A massive notice board dominated the far wall, its surface covered in parchment detailing available quests.  

The moment I entered, I felt the weight of dozens of eyes on me.  

“Hey, isn’t that Nusrat?” one player whispered.  

“Yeah, the influencer,” another murmured.  

Before I could react, a group of players surrounded me. Compliments and flirtations flew in from all directions, their words a mix of genuine admiration and thinly veiled advances.  

“You’re even prettier in person,” one player said, his grin wolfish.  

“Let me show you around,” another offered, stepping closer.  

I forced a polite smile, trying to maintain composure. “Thanks, but I’m just here to find a quest.”  

It took some effort, but I managed to extricate myself from the group and make my way to the notice board. Most of the quests were either too high-level for me to attempt or felt like menial busywork—fetching items or gathering resources. None of them sparked my interest.   

* * *

Frustrated, I left the guild and headed to the town square. The notice board there was simpler but still well-maintained, its surface covered in a mix of hand-scrawled and neatly printed notices.  

One quest caught my eye: “Missing Child. Reward Offered.” 

I tore the notice from the board, resolving to find the child. The journey that lay ahead felt daunting but necessary.   

* * *

The parchment felt rough in my hand as I folded it carefully, tucking it into my satchel. The village square bustled with activity, the hum of voices blending with the creak of carts and the occasional bark of a dog. I took a deep breath, steadying myself for what lay ahead.  

The first step was finding the child’s parents. I approached an older woman stacking bundles of firewood near a small, smoke-streaked house. Her face was weathered, her hands calloused from years of work.  

“Excuse me,” I said, holding up the notice. “Do you know where I can find the family of the missing child?”  

She paused, squinting at me before nodding toward a house near the edge of the square. “That’d be Tharald and Sigrid’s place. Their youngest went missing a couple of days ago. Poor folks.”  

I thanked her and made my way to the house. It was modest, like most in the village, its walls built of dark timber and its roof steeply pitched to shed snow. Smoke curled from the chimney, a faint indication of life inside.  

 I knocked lightly on the wooden door.   

* * *

The door creaked open to reveal a man with a haggard expression. His eyes were red-rimmed, his unkempt beard flecked with frost. Behind him, a woman sat at a small table, her shoulders hunched as she wept into a cloth.  

“Are you here about our boy?” the man asked, his voice rough with grief.  

I nodded, stepping inside as he gestured me in. The warmth of the room was immediate, though it did little to dispel the heavy atmosphere.  

“Please, sit,” he said, pulling out a chair.  

I settled across from him as his wife wiped her eyes and turned to face me. “His name’s Rorik,” she said, her voice trembling. “He’s only eight. He... he’s been gone for three days now.”  

I leaned forward slightly, keeping my tone gentle. “Do you know where he might have gone? Did he say anything before he disappeared?”  

The man shook his head. “Rorik’s a curious boy, but he’s always stayed close to the village. We thought he was playing by the gate, but when he didn’t come back by nightfall...” His voice cracked, and he looked away.  

 I pressed my hands together, thinking. “Have you spoken to anyone who might have seen him?”  

“Only a few,” the woman said. “One of the neighbors thought they saw him near the gate that day. The guards might know more, but they haven’t found anything yet.”  

Classic quest cliché, right? Kid goes missing, and instead of, I don’t know, checking the usual spots or getting the neighbors involved, the parents are like, ‘Oh no! Random adventurer, please save us!’ Like, seriously? They’re just sitting there, wringing their hands, hoping some dude with a sword or a mage with glowing hands will magically fix everything. I get it—it’s a game, but come on, at least pretend to try before outsourcing your parenting to the next passerby.

I nodded, standing. “I’ll do everything I can to find him.”  

The woman clasped my hand, her eyes filled with gratitude. “Thank you. Please, bring our boy back to us.”   

* * *

I left the house and began asking around the square, speaking to anyone who might have seen Rorik. Most had little to offer—a vague sighting here, a kind word there—but one woman, a middle-aged baker with flour streaked across her apron, provided a promising lead.  

“I saw him playing by the village gate three days ago,” she said, wiping her hands on her apron. “He seemed happy enough, chasing after a wooden toy. You should ask the guards; they might’ve seen something.”  

Thanking her, I made my way to the gate.   

* * *

The town gate was a sturdy structure of thick logs, reinforced with iron bands and flanked by two watchtowers. A lone guard stood nearby, his armor scratched and weathered.  

“Excuse me,” I said, approaching him. “I’m looking for a missing child named Rorik. Do you know anything about what happened three days ago?”  

The guard frowned, rubbing the back of his neck. “I wasn’t on duty that day, but... the guard who was found something strange.”  

“What do you mean?” I asked, my curiosity piqued.  

He sighed. “The man on duty, Ulfric, hasn’t been able to tell us much. Hunters found him unconscious at the edge of the forest the same night Rorik disappeared. Whatever happened to him, it wasn’t natural. He’s been in a bad way ever since.”  

“Where is he now?”  

 “At his home, being tended to by a healer,” the guard said. “You might get more answers there.”   

* * *

Ulfric’s house was a small, unassuming structure near the western edge of the settlement. When I arrived, the door was slightly ajar, and I could hear muffled voices from inside.  

I knocked lightly before stepping in. The air was thick with the scent of herbs and smoke. Ulfric lay on a cot, his face pale and drawn. A healer knelt beside him, her hands glowing faintly as she worked over his still form.  

“He was attacked by magic,” the healer said without looking up. “A curse, most likely. He won’t wake until it’s broken.”  

“Is there anything you can do?” I asked.  

The healer shook her head. “Not with the tools I have here. To brew the antidote, I’ll need a rare herb that only grows in the caves deep within the forest.”  

I felt a pang of frustration but nodded. “Where can I find these caves?”  

The healer gestured vaguely. “The forest is vast and treacherous, but some say the caves lie beyond the old trails. You’ll have to search carefully.”   

* * *

The forest was eerily silent as I wandered deeper, my boots crunching softly against the snow-covered ground. Shadows stretched long beneath the towering pines, their gnarled branches reaching out like claws. Every step felt heavier, the vast wilderness pressing in on all sides.  

I had been searching for hours, my breath visible in the frigid air. Despite the healer’s vague directions, there was no sign of a cave, no hint of the herb I desperately needed. The weight of my bow across my back was a constant reminder of my inadequacy.  

I stopped, leaning against a tree to catch my breath. The forest seemed alive, every rustle of wind through the branches raising the hair on the back of my neck. Venturing further felt foolish, but turning back empty-handed wasn’t an option.  

Just as I resolved to press on, the faint sound of hoofbeats reached my ears. I froze, instinctively nocking an arrow as I peered through the trees. The sound grew louder until two riders emerged from the shadows, their horses moving gracefully through the snow.  

Both men were clad in gleaming armor, their weapons exuding a faint, otherworldly glow. They were a stark contrast to my ragged leather tunic and tier-one bow. The taller of the two, a broad-shouldered man with dark hair and a confident smirk, dismounted first. His badge marked him as Kaelen, Level 22.  

The other rider, leaner but no less imposing, had piercing blue eyes and a massive axe strapped across his back. His nameplate read Darin, Level 20.   

“You look lost,” Kaelen said, his voice smooth but laced with amusement.  

“Not lost, exactly,” I replied, lowering my bow cautiously. “Just... looking for a cave.”  

Darin chuckled, dismounting with practiced ease. “Let me guess—the missing child quest?”  

I nodded, my cheeks flushing slightly.  

Kaelen exchanged a knowing look with Darin before turning back to me. “We’ve done that one. Tricky for a level one, especially alone.”  

“Need help?” Darin asked, his tone casual but his eyes sharp.  

The relief was immediate. “I could use it,” I admitted.  

Kaelen’s smirk widened. “Alright. But fair warning—we’re going to spoil the whole quest for you.”  

“That’s fine,” I said quickly.  

“Good,” he replied. “Here’s the deal. After you get the herb, the healer will brew the potion and wake the guardsman. He’ll tell you that he saw the child leave the village with his father. Suspicious, he followed them into the forest, but it wasn’t the father—it was a grymling shaman using illusion magic.”  

I frowned. “What are Grymlings?”  

Kaelen’s expression darkened. “Nasty little creatures. They’re short, pale, and hunched, with long, crooked noses and thick, curly hair. Weak on their own, but in groups? They’re dangerous.”  

“They’ve been a plague on these lands for years,” Darin added. “Kidnapping children, stealing livestock, and worse. No one knows what they do with the kids, but it’s nothing good.”  

A chill ran down my spine. “And the guardsman? What happened to him?”  

“He followed the grymling shaman to their outpost but got caught,” Kaelen explained. “Tried to escape and almost made it, but the shaman hit him with a curse. Luckily, some hunters stumbled upon him and scared the grymlings off before they could finish him.”  

I hesitated. “Do you know where the outpost is?”  

Kaelen nodded. “We do. And we can help you clear it out. But there’s a price.”  

I frowned. “I don’t have much money.”  

Darin smirked. “We’re not asking for coin. We’ll decide what we want after the quest. Deal?”  

Suspicion flickered in the back of my mind, but I nodded. “Deal.”   

* * *

Kaelen helped me onto the back of his Frostmane, the horse’s shaggy white coat warm against my legs. Darin led the way, his Glacier Steed cutting a path through the snow with ease.  

The ride was silent, save for the steady crunch of hooves and the occasional rustle of wind through the trees. My thoughts raced as I tried to imagine what awaited us at the grymling outpost.  

When we crested a small hill, the outpost came into view. It was a crude, ramshackle collection of huts made of wood and bone, huddled together in a clearing. Smoke curled lazily from a central fire, and pale, hunched figures moved about the camp.  

“That’s it,” Kaelen said, his voice low.  

The sight of the grymlings sent a shiver down my spine. They were just as described—short, pale, and grotesque, their movements jerky and unnatural. Despite their small stature, there was something deeply unsettling about them.  

“There are a lot of them,” I murmured.  

“That’s why we’re here,” Darin said, drawing his axe. 

“Stay close,” Kaelen said, drawing his longsword. The faint shimmer of enchantments danced along its blade, a promise of its lethality.  

Darin hefted his massive axe, its double-edged head gleaming ominously in the firelight. “We’ll take the bulk of them. You handle what you can, but don’t get reckless. And if you need to heal, shout.”  

I nodded, clutching my hunting bow tightly as I scanned the camp. A system notification popped up in the corner of my vision: Combat Engaged. Damage Scaling Active.  

Kaelen and Darin moved like twin hurricanes, their footsteps silent and purposeful as they descended into the camp. The first grymling barely had time to screech before Kaelen’s blade cleaved through its chest, a burst of red light marking the hit.  

Darin followed, his axe swinging in a deadly arc that sent two grymlings sprawling, their lifeless bodies crumpling to the ground.  

The sudden commotion threw the camp into chaos. Grymlings scrambled out of their huts, screeching in their guttural tongue. They came in a rush, their numbers swelling until the clearing felt suffocating.   

* * *

A grymling darted toward me; its crooked blade raised high. My fingers trembled as I nocked an arrow, pulling the bowstring taut. The faint tension buzzed in my fingertips—a mechanic I hadn’t fully appreciated until now.  

I released the arrow, and it struck the grymling in the shoulder. It screeched, stumbling but not stopping. Heart pounding, I loosed another shot, this one embedding itself in its chest. The grymling staggered and fell, its body dissolving into a faint, shimmering mist as the system registered my first kill: Grymling Warrior Eliminated. +10 XP.  

A sharp pain shot through my side as another grymling blindsided me with a crude club. I stumbled, a red flash marking the impact. My health bar dipped dangerously low, the sting of the hit radiating through my body—dulled but undeniable.  

Desperation drove me to drop my bow and unsheathe my iron sword. The blade felt heavier than I expected, but its simple design was reliable.   

* * *

The grymling lunged again, its blade catching the edge of my tunic. I sidestepped, swinging my sword in a wide arc. The blade connected, slicing deep into the creature’s torso. A spray of light burst from the wound as it crumpled to the ground.  

But there was no time to celebrate. Another grymling charged; its wild eyes gleaming. I raised my sword to block, the clash of metal vibrating up my arm. My stamina gauge flickered in the corner of my vision, a stark reminder of the limits to my endurance.  

I pushed back, kicking the creature squarely in the chest. It stumbled, giving me just enough time to land a decisive blow.  

A scream from my left pulled my attention. Darin stood in the thick of the fray, his axe spinning like a whirlwind. Each swing sent grymlings flying, their bodies disintegrating in bursts of red light.  

Kaelen was no less formidable. His movements were fluid and deliberate, each strike of his sword finding its mark. Between the two of them, the grymlings fell like leaves in a storm.   

* * *

The last grymling fell with a guttural screech, its form dissolving into the same shimmering mist as the others. The camp was silent now, save for the crackling of the central fire and the sound of my own labored breathing.  

I staggered back, my health bar hovering precariously above critical levels. My side throbbed where the grymling’s club had struck, and the edges of my vision blurred faintly—a mechanic meant to simulate dizziness from low health.  

Kaelen strode toward me, his armor streaked with blood and ichor. He sheathed his sword and reached into his satchel, pulling out a small vial filled with bright red liquid.  

“Here,” he said, tossing it to me. “Drink up. You look like you’re about to keel over.”  

I caught the vial clumsily, pulling the cork free and downing its contents in one gulp. The healing potion was warm and oddly sweet, and I felt an immediate rush as my health bar climbed steadily upward.  

“Better?” Darin asked, his grin sharp as he leaned casually on his axe.  

I nodded, my breathing slowing. “Thanks. I wouldn’t have lasted without you two.”  

“Not bad for a beginner,” Kaelen said, his smirk softening. “But you’ve got a long way to go.”   

* * *

The air in the clearing was thick with the metallic tang of blood and the faint acrid smoke from the central fire. I stood frozen, clutching my bow, as Kaelen and Darin casually wiped their weapons clean.  

“Not bad for a couple of minutes’ work,” Darin said, grinning as he inspected the edge of his axe.  

Kaelen sheathed his sword and turned to me, his smirk as steady as ever. “And you didn’t die. That’s a good start.”  

“I’m... grateful,” I said, trying to steady my breathing. The adrenaline coursing through me had left my hands trembling.  

Kaelen gestured toward the largest hut in the camp. “The kid’s in there. But before we open that door, you owe us.”  

I blinked, my heart sinking slightly. “What do you want?”  

Darin stepped closer, his grin turning mischievous. “Nothing you can’t handle.”  

Before I could respond, he leaned in, his lips brushing mine in a sudden, confident kiss. I froze for a moment, taken aback, but then thought, It’s just a game. I kissed him back.  

Kaelen chuckled softly, stepping forward to join in. His kiss was equally confident, and I marveled at how real it felt—the warmth, the texture, even the faint scent of the forest clinging to him.  

As our kisses grew more fervent, their hands began to roam. The leather of my armor was no barrier to their insistent touch, and I found myself responding in kind, tracing the contours of their muscular chests beneath their mail. The sensation of their hands on my skin was surprisingly erotic, even through the layers of fabric and armor.

Kaelen’s fingers found the buckles of my chest piece, deftly loosening them. The metal plates fell away, revealing my soft, lace-covered breasts. He paused, his eyes darkening as he took in the sight, before leaning in to kiss along the exposed skin of my neck.

Darin’s hands slipped down my waist, untying the knot holding my woolen tights in place. It pooled around my ankles, leaving me in only my panties and the lacy top. His hands were rough, his touch leaving a trail of heat as he caressed my thighs and hips.

Kaelen stepped closer, his hands moving to cup my breasts, his thumbs stroking over my nipples through the lace. The sensation sent a bolt of pleasure straight to my core, and I gasped, arching into his touch. His teeth grazed my ear as he whispered, “You’re more than we bargained for, Nusrat.”

Darin’s hands slid around to my back, untying the laces of my top. It fell away, exposing my bare skin to the chilly air. He groaned, his breath hot against my neck, and I felt his erection press against my thigh.

Kaelen’s hand moved to the waistband of my panties, pulling them down slowly. I stepped out of them, my legs shaking. Their eyes raked over me, and I felt a thrill of power in their hunger.

Darin’s calloused fingers traced the curve of my waist before sliding lower, cupping my ass firmly. He squeezed, and I moaned into Kaelen’s mouth, feeling the firmness between my legs build.

Kaelen’s hand slid up my bare back, his fingertips brushing the nape of my neck before entwining in my hair, pulling my head back to expose my throat. He trailed kisses down to my collarbone, his teeth grazing my skin, leaving a trail of sensation that had me shivering despite the warmth of the fire.

Darin’s hand moved from my ass to cup my crotch, his calloused fingers pressing firmly against my cock. I gasped, my body responding despite the fear and confusion that warred in my mind. He squeezed, his eyes never leaving mine as he watched the pleasure play across my face.

Kaelen’s kiss grew more demanding, his teeth grazing my bottom lip. He reached down, his hand joining Darin’s to squeeze and stroke me firmly. Their roughness sent shockwaves of pleasure through me, and I found myself pushing into their grasp.

Their touch grew bolder, more insistent. Kaelen’s fingers wrapped around my small shaft, his grip firm and unyielding. I gasped, the sensation of his fingers around me so intense that it was almost painful. Darin’s fingers dug into my ass, pulling me closer to him.

I felt the warmth of their bodies, the roughness of their armor scraping against my bare skin. Kaelen’s fingers worked me in a steady rhythm, his eyes never leaving mine. His thumb flicked over the head of my cock, and a strangled cry tore from my throat.

Darin’s grip on my ass tightened, his other hand moving to my chest to squeeze and tease my nipples. The sensation was overwhelming, a mix of pain and pleasure that made my legs wobble. They were so much stronger than me, so much more powerful, and the reality of my situation began to set in.

“On your knees,” Kaelen murmured, his voice low and commanding. The words sent a jolt through me, but I obeyed, my knees sinking into the cold, hard ground.

Darin stepped closer, unbuckling his armor with a grin that sent a shiver down my spine. He dropped his pants, revealing a thick, veined cock that jerked eagerly before my eyes. The sight was both terrifying and exhilarating.

“Open your mouth,” he instructed, his voice gruff with lust. I obeyed, my heart hammering in my chest as he guided himself to my lips. His cock was hot and hard, and as it slid into my mouth, the salty taste of his arousal filled me. He groaned in pleasure, his hand tangling in my hair as he began to thrust shallowly.

Kaelen watched, his eyes hungry as Darin’s hips rolled in a slow, deliberate rhythm. His own cock was in his hand, stroking in time with Darin’s movements. “Take it all, Nusrat,” he taunted, his voice thick with desire.

I obeyed, my mouth stretched around Darin’s shaft, my tongue flicking out to taste the bead of pre-cum that formed at the tip. His grip tightened in my hair, and he began to fuck my mouth in earnest, his movements growing more urgent with each passing moment. I could feel the tension coiling in his muscles, the pulse of his blood in his cock.

Kaelen stepped closer, his own erection bobbing before my eyes. He leaned in, his cock pressing against my cheek as he whispered, “Take Darin’s cock like a good little slut. Then, you can have a taste of mine.”

I swallowed hard, feeling the weight of Darin’s shaft as he guided it to my mouth. I opened wide, and he pushed it in, the tip brushing the back of my throat. I gagged slightly, but he didn’t stop. His hand remained tight in my hair, his grip a silent demand for obedience.

Kaelen watched with a smug smile as Darin began to fuck my mouth. His strokes grew deeper, more forceful, his cock sliding over my tongue and filling me completely. The sensation was overwhelming, my mind reeling as I tried to process the reality of the situation.

Suddenly, Darin pulled out, panting heavily. “My turn,” Kaelen said, his eyes dark with lust. He stepped forward, his cock bobbing before my face. It was slightly thicker than Darin’s, and my heart raced as I opened my mouth again.

He slammed his cock into my mouth without warning, and I gagged around it, my eyes watering. His grip on my hair was like iron as he held my head in place, his hips bucking against my face. He was merciless, using my mouth like it was made for his pleasure alone.

Darin stepped back, stroking his cock as he watched. His grin was wide and predatory. "You're doing well, Nusrat. Keep it up." 

Kaelen didn't wait for an invitation, pushing his cock into my mouth, his hips moving in a punishing rhythm. I could feel the veins pulsing along the length of him, and I took the brunt of his desire, his roughness setting my own pulse racing.

Darin watched with a hungry gaze, his hand still working his cock. His grin grew wider as Kaelen's thrusts grew more frenzied. "Look at her, Kaelen," he murmured. "She's loving it."

But Kaelen's focus was solely on the warm, wet cavern of my mouth. He groaned, his strokes becoming erratic, his thighs trembling with the effort of holding back his climax. His cock was so deep, it was all I could do to keep from gagging. I could feel the pressure building, the heat of his orgasm imminent.

And then, just as suddenly as he'd started, Kaelen pulled out, his cock glistening with my saliva. He stepped aside, allowing Darin to take his place, his own lust-filled gaze boring into me as he shoved his cock back into my mouth.

Darin’s strokes were swift and shallow at first, a stark contrast to Kaelen’s deep, punishing thrusts. His hands gripped my head, his fingers tangling in my hair as he used me for his pleasure, his eyes never leaving mine. I could feel the power they held over me, the thrill of their dominance, and it sent a shiver down my spine that had nothing to do with the cold.

Kaelen watched with a predatory glint in his eyes, stroking himself as Darin picked up the pace. His cock was thick and insistent, filling my mouth completely as he grunted with each thrust. I felt the head of his shaft brush against the back of my throat, the pressure intense and slightly terrifying. Yet, I was surprised to find myself growing harder, my body betraying my fear with its own desperate need for release.

With a sudden, fluid motion, Kaelen reached down and grabbed my hips, positioning me so that I was on all fours, my face still buried in Darin’s crotch. The cold ground bit into my knees, but the sensation was lost as Kaelen’s cock nudged against my ass. I tensed, my body tightening in anticipation and dread.

Darin’s grip on my hair loosened slightly, allowing me to breathe, but before I could protest, Kaelen’s fingers were probing at my tight entrance. I whimpered, my body is used to such intrusion, and he was unyielding, pushing one, then two fingers inside me. The stretch was painful, but the game’s design made sure the pain was bearable, a stark reminder of the world we were in.

With a grunt, Darin pulled out of my mouth, and I gasped for air, my cheeks stinging from the abuse. Kaelen’s fingers worked me open, the cold night air making my skin pebble with gooseflesh. He leaned over, his breath hot against my ear. “Ready?”

Before I could respond, he removed his fingers, and I felt the blunt pressure of his cockhead pushing against my entrance. He entered me slowly, his grip on my hips tight as he stretched me around his girth. I bit back a moan, the sensation of being filled both thrilling and overwhelming.

Darin stepped closer; his cock still wet with my saliva. He guided it back into my mouth, his eyes gleaming with excitement as he watched Kaelen’s cock disappear into me. The taste was musky and strange, but the situation had me so worked up that I found myself sucking eagerly, desperate to please them both.

Kaelen’s thrusts grew stronger, his hands gripping my hips tightly as he began to fuck me in earnest. Each stroke sent shockwaves of pain and pleasure through my body, a delicious mix that had me pushing back against him, my mouth bobbing up and down on Darin’s cock in a rhythm that matched his movements.

Their grunts and moans filled the air, the soundtrack to our depraved little play in the ruins of the grymling camp. I felt like a prize to be claimed, and the thought was intoxicating, my body responding eagerly to their every whim.

With a firm grip on my hips, Kaelen began to pick up the pace, his cock sliding in and out of my ass with a steady rhythm. Each thrust sent a jolt of pleasure through me, the pain giving way to something more primal.

Darin watched; his eyes glued to the sight of Kaelen’s hips smashing against my lush ass. His cock grew, lodged in my throat, growing more frantic, and I felt a twinge of satisfaction knowing I was the cause of his arousal.

With a final grunt, Kaelen pulled out, and Darin stepped back, his cock glistening with my spit. He smacked it against my cheek, a silent demand.

Without missing a beat, Kaelen stepped aside, allowing Darin to take his place. He didn't bother with foreplay, instead grabbing my hips and sliding his cock into my well-stretched ass. His grip was as firm as Kaelen’s had been, his movements just as dominant.

He fucked me hard, his hips slapping against my ass as he pistoned in and out of my hungry hole. I could feel my body stretch around him, the sensation a mix of pain and pleasure that was almost too much to handle. His hands were tight on my hips, his breathing ragged as he fucked me with a primal need that seemed to echo through the quiet camp.

Kaelen watched, stroking himself lazily, his eyes never leaving the sight of Darin claiming me. His gaze was intense, his hunger palpable. I knew what he wanted, and a thrill of excitement shot through me as I felt him move closer.

He dropped to the ground, his cock standing proudly before me. "Ride me, Nusrat," he said, his voice low and demanding. Darin pulled out of my ass with a wet pop, and I stumbled slightly before Kaelen’s hands were there, guiding me onto his waiting shaft. I straddled him, my legs trembling slightly as I lowered myself onto his cock.

The feeling of his cock filling me was unlike anything I'd ever experienced. The game had translated the sensation flawlessly, and I bit back a moan as I felt him stretch me open. His hands gripped my thighs, urging me down until I was fully seated on him. His eyes never left mine, his expression one of raw hunger.

Darin stepped up beside us, his cock standing tall and proud. "You want a taste of this, don't you?" he asked, his voice thick with desire. I nodded, feeling the heat of his lust like a physical force.

With Kaelen's cock still deep inside me, I leaned over, wrapping my lips around Darin's shaft. His taste was salty and musky, a stark contrast to the clean, almost clinical sensation of their touch earlier. He groaned, his hand coming up to cradle the back of my head as he began to fuck my mouth with the same urgency that Kaelen fucked my ass.

Kaelen's hands slid up my body, cupping my breasts, his thumbs flicking my nipples. The sensation sent a bolt of pleasure straight to my core, and I found myself riding him harder, my hips moving in a frenzied dance as I tried to keep up with the dual assault on my senses.

Darin's cock was thick and demanding in my mouth, and I took him in deep, my throat muscles working around his shaft as I fought back the gag reflex. He watched me, his eyes dark with lust as he stroked my hair, his hips rolling in time with Kaelen's thrusts.

Kaelen's hand slid down my back, his nails digging into my flesh as he urged me to ride him harder. The friction was delicious, sending waves of pleasure through me with each movement.

Darin took his cock from my mouth, and I gasped for air, feeling the ache in my jaw and the slickness of his desire on my chin. He leaned down, whispering into my ear, "You're doing so well, little slut."

Kaelen's thrusts grew more insistent, his hips slapping against my ass as he drove into me. I felt his hands tighten on my hips, guiding my movements, urging me to meet his rhythm. The sensation was overwhelming, the fullness of his cock in my ass pushing all other thoughts from my mind.

Darin stepped closer, his cock slick with my saliva. He grabbed the base, the head bobbing in front of my face, and I could see the veins pulsing with his excitement. "Take it, Nusrat," he said, his voice low and demanding.

With Kaelen’s cock still buried deep in my ass, I leaned forward, parting my lips. Darin's cock slammed into my mouth, his grip on the back of my head forcing me to take him deep. The taste was overwhelming, but I found myself eagerly sucking, my tongue swirling around his shaft as I tried to accommodate his size.

Kaelen’s grip on my hips grew stronger, his strokes becoming more erratic as he approached his climax. The sounds of our bodies colliding filled the night air, the slap of flesh on flesh punctuated by the wet sounds of Darin’s cock sliding in and out of my throat.

“That’s it, baby,” Kaelen grunted, his eyes rolling back in his head. “Take it all.”

I could feel him swell inside me, his cock pulsing as he approached his climax. The pressure was intense, and I braced myself for the inevitable. With a roar that echoed through the silent camp, Kaelen released his seed deep within me, the warmth of his orgasm spreading through my bowels. The sensation was alien and yet, in this game world, it filled me with a strange, twisted pleasure.

As Kaelen’s orgasm subsided, Darin’s grip on my hair tightened. He pulled his cock out of my mouth with a wet pop, the taste of his precum still on my tongue. His eyes blazed with a wild, untamed lust as he painted my face with his semen, ropes of cum spurting across my cheek, nose, and forehead. It was a claiming, a marking, and I felt a shiver of excitement at the raw dominance of the act.

Kaelen watched, his chest heaving, as Darin’s cock pulsed in his fist, painting a sticky mess across my features. His own cock still buried in my ass, he whispered, “Such a good little slut, taking us both like this. You’re going to be the talk of the realms, Nusrat.”

With a final twitch, Darin’s orgasm subsided, and he stepped back, his cock still hard and gleaming. He met my gaze, a smug smile playing on his lips as he reached down to tuck himself away. Kaelen, still inside me, took a deep breath, his eyes never leaving mine as he slowly withdrew, his cock slipping out with an obscene wet sound.

They both released me, and I collapsed onto the cold ground, my body trembling from the intensity of the encounter. The sudden absence of their warmth left me feeling exposed and vulnerable. I watched them dress, my own body feeling sticky and used. The weight of their seed was a constant reminder of what had just transpired.

"Pleasure doing business," Kaelen said, his tone playful, as he tucked his cock back into his pants. His smirk was infectious, and despite the ache between my legs and the mess on my face, I found myself smiling back. 

* * *

As I steadied myself, Darin motioned toward the surrounding camp. “Listen up, rookie. Here’s how you get the most out of this quest.”  

Kaelen nodded. “First, loot everything. The grymlings always hoard valuables—gold, trinkets, even crafting materials. Check every hut and storage crate.”  

“Second,” Darin added, “there’s a cave behind the camp where they keep their pack animals. The herb you’re looking for sometimes spawns there. Even if it doesn’t, the animals are worth hauling back to the village and selling at the stables.”  

Kaelen smirked. “And third, wake the guardsman. You can complete the quest by just rescuing the kid, but waking him gets you bonus XP and a rare shield. Trust me, you’ll want it.”  

I nodded, absorbing their advice. “Anything else?”  

“Yeah,” Darin said, mounting his horse. “Wait until we’re gone before rescuing the kid. Otherwise, the XP will split three ways.”  

“Fair enough,” I said, watching as they rode off into the trees.   

* * *

Following their instructions, I began systematically looting the camp. The grymlings had little regard for organization; their treasures were scattered haphazardly in crates, sacks, and even buried in the dirt. I found small piles of gold coins, a few low-tier potions, and scraps of crafting materials.  

The largest hut held the most valuable items: a set of enchanted arrows and a modest amount of silver coins.  

Behind the camp, the cave Darin mentioned was easy to find. It was shallow but contained a few pack animals tethered to crude wooden posts. The creatures were unlike anything I’d seen before—short, stout beasts with shaggy fur and curved horns. Their large, dark eyes gave them an oddly docile appearance, despite their surroundings.  

I also spotted the herb growing near the cave’s entrance. Its faint green glow made it easy to recognize, and I carefully plucked it, tucking it into my satchel.   

* * *

Returning to the largest hut, I pushed the door open cautiously. Inside, the air was stale, heavy with the smell of damp wood and something faintly acrid. A small figure sat huddled in the corner—a boy no older than eight, his face streaked with tears and dirt.  

“Rorik?” I said gently.  

He looked up, his eyes wide with fear. When he saw me, relief flooded his expression.  

“You’re safe now,” I said, crouching to his level. “Let’s get you home.”  

I guided him out of the hut, his small hand gripping mine tightly.   

* * *

The walk back to Frostholm felt longer than the journey out, though it was free from danger. Snow crunched underfoot as I led the small pack animal by its reins, its shaggy, horned head swaying slightly with each step. Rorik clung to my side; his small hand wrapped tightly around mine. He was quiet but seemed calmer now, his wide, tear-filled eyes scanning the forest as though it might leap out at him again.  

The pack animal—an odd beast I’d later hear one of the veteran players call a Thrumbo—was surprisingly docile, its short legs carrying the weight of my gathered loot without complaint. Its fur was dense and coarse, with streaks of black running through its otherwise brown coat.  

As the forest gave way to the open plains surrounding Frostholm, the sight of the village felt like a breath of fresh air. Smoke rose steadily from chimneys, and the warm glow of the settlement lights cut through the early evening gloom.  

At the village gate, Rorik’s parents were already waiting. Sigrid spotted us first, her hand flying to her mouth as she let out a soft cry. She rushed forward, her skirts trailing in the snow, and fell to her knees, wrapping her arms around her son.  

“Rorik!” she sobbed, pulling him close. “Oh, my sweet boy!”  

Tharald followed close behind, his steps slower, his face drawn with equal parts relief and exhaustion. He placed a heavy hand on my shoulder, his grip firm but kind. “Thank you,” he said, his voice rough with emotion. “You’ve given us back our world.”  

I offered a small smile. “He’s safe now. That’s all that matters.”   

* * *

After ensuring Rorik was safely in his parents’ care, I made my way to Ulfric’s house. The healer was already outside, pacing the small yard with the air of someone waiting anxiously.  

“You have it?” she asked, her voice tight.  

I nodded, pulling the herb from my satchel. Its faint green glow had dimmed slightly during the journey, but the healer’s eyes lit up at the sight of it.  

“This will do,” she said, taking the plant with a steady hand. “Wait here.”  

I watched as she disappeared into the house, the door creaking shut behind her. Minutes later, the healer returned with a steaming vial of pale blue liquid.  

“Let’s see if this works,” she murmured, moving quickly to Ulfric’s bedside.  

The guardsman’s face was still pale, his breathing shallow, but as the healer tilted the potion to his lips, a faint color began to return to his cheeks. His eyelids fluttered, and he let out a weak groan.  

“Ulfric,” the healer said softly, leaning closer.  

The guardsman’s eyes opened slowly, unfocused at first, before settling on the healer’s face. “Rorik…” he croaked, his voice rough and strained.  

“He’s safe,” I interjected, stepping forward. “But we need to know what happened.”   

* * *

Ulfric struggled to sit up, his movements sluggish. The healer helped prop him against the pillows, and he took a shuddering breath before speaking.  

“I saw him... with his father,” he began, his voice halting. “Or at least, I thought it was his father. But something wasn’t right.”  

“What wasn’t right?” I asked gently.  

“The way he moved,” Ulfric said, his brow furrowing. “And his voice... it sounded wrong. Like someone trying to mimic a voice they’d only heard once.”  

He paused, his hand twitching against the blanket. “I followed them. Through the forest, to the outpost. That’s when I realized... it wasn’t his father. It was one of them. A grymling shaman.”  

His words hung in the air like a tangible weight.  

“I tried to get help,” Ulfric continued, his voice breaking slightly. “But they saw me. The shaman hit me with... something. A curse, I think. Next thing I knew, I was lying in the snow.”  

“You’re lucky the hunters found you,” the healer said softly.  

Ulfric nodded, his gaze falling to his lap. After a moment, he reached for something on the nearby table—a round wooden shield, its surface marked with intricate runes.  

“This was my father’s,” he said, holding it out to me. “It didn’t help me, but maybe it’ll help you.”  

I took the shield carefully, marveling at the craftsmanship. The runes seemed to hum faintly beneath my fingers, and a system notification confirmed its enchantment: “Grants resistance against magic attacks.”  

“Thank you,” I said, bowing slightly.  

Ulfric managed a weak smile. “No. Thank you.”   

* * *

The pack animal’s load had grown heavy with the spoils of the grymling outpost. Coins, trinkets, and crafting materials filled my satchel, and the shopkeeper’s eyes gleamed as I laid each item on the counter.  

“This is quite the haul,” she remarked, counting out coins with practiced precision.  

The final total was more than enough to cover the cost of a horse, and I made my way to the stables with a spring in my step.  

The stable master, a grizzled man with a thick beard, greeted me warmly. “Looking for a mount?” he asked.  

“Yes,” I said, scanning the rows of stalls. “Something reliable.”  

He led me to a sleek chestnut Snowstride, her coat gleaming in the faint light of the lanterns. She nickered softly as I approached, her dark eyes curious but gentle.  

“This one’s a good fit for a beginner,” the stable master said. “Steady, quick, and won’t spook easy.”  

I paid the man and led the Snowstride—whom I promptly named Flurry—out of the stable.   

* * *

As I awkwardly adjusted the saddle, Eirik’s familiar voice called out from nearby.  

“Struggling already?” he teased, walking over with an easy grin.  

“I’ve never done this before,” I admitted, blushing slightly.  

He chuckled. “Come on, then. I’ll show you the basics.”  

For the next hour, Eirik guided me through mounting, steering, and basic riding commands. His patience and steady demeanor made the process far less daunting, and by the end, I felt a surge of confidence as Flurry responded smoothly to my movements.  

“Not bad for a first-timer,” Eirik said, clapping me on the shoulder.   

* * *

As night fell over Frostholm, I stabled Flurry and returned to the Frosted Mead Hall. The warmth of the hearth enveloped me as I climbed the stairs to my rented room.  

Sliding beneath the heavy fur blankets, I selected the option to log out. The world of Nytherra faded, replaced by the familiar comfort of my bedroom.  

I exhaled slowly, a smile playing at my lips. Tomorrow’s another adventure.   

* * *