Sam Oliver Lawrence, or, as his friends – few as they were – and enemies called him, Solar, was in a mighty pickle. He stood between two opposing armies, each one intent on eradicating the other with a zeal that history rarely saw.
And he was holed up in a small outpost in the middle of the battlefield.
As he beheld the two armies, prepared to clash over certain resources that were vital to their development, he couldn't help but curse his 'friend' for setting him up.
"Just a little information selling, he said!" he murmured under his breath as he glanced around, checking on his comrades but, in reality, looking for assassins. "And might as well spy a little... It will be worth the money, he said!"
He clenched his fist in rage but remained stationary, straining his eyes to find an escape route.
Alas, it was not to be.
The virtual reality game
Magic Unbound
was rather realistic in how it allowed opposing players to hinder each other. If one gathered the necessary people with certain professions, such as trap makers, enchanters, and warders, they would be able to lock down a battlefield tighter than Fort Knox.
Granted, it didn't come free, and the materials would break a smaller guild's bank, but this was a battle between two of the biggest guilds. They had the money, manpower, and the will to do what they needed to win the battle – and, hopefully, with the looted materials, the war.
Because the same outpost that Sam was stuck in was sitting on a rather big deposit of magical crystals that were vital to anything that was even remotely magical.
In itself, it wasn't great news that a new deposit of magical crystals was found, as they were peppered around the maps of the game, but this one was special.
Usually, the magical crystals in any mine would take on the attribute of the surrounding magic. So a magical crystal mine next to a volcano would be fire-attributed, one next to the ocean would be water-attributed, and so on. Accordingly, in most cases, if one wanted to use the magical crystals for certain tasks, they would have to cleanse them of their attributes, which would degrade their quality and reduce their value, both for resale and usage in any number of equipment or processes.
But this one was special. The magical crystals produced from this rather big vein were unattributed. They were, based on the experiments done, somewhat resistant to becoming any one attribute. This was big. Especially for the large guilds, who used up magical crystals in enormous amounts each day. Just this mine – and who knows how many in the region – would decrease their operating costs by a huge margin and increase the speed of their production.
Thus, everybody wanted it.
No matter what.
And Sam was in the middle of it.
In his sorry life, he was rather unlucky.
First, he ignored when the game
Magic
Unbound
came out, calling it a new hype and continuing with his own favorites as if nothing had happened. Which, to be fair, he wasn't alone in. The game touted itself as the game that would end all games – the last game that people would ever play.
Nobody really took it seriously.
Then, naturally, the game blew up. Streamers did what they did best and found things they could brag about, and people ate it up. In just a few short months, the game's population tripled. And that growth never stopped.
Then the company behind Magic Unbound introduced a real-money exchange as well as an auction house where people could buy things with real currency.
That was when he joined. As he was perpetually in and out of poverty, with rather meager savings and hopping between jobs, the siren call of playing a game for real money was exactly what he wanted.
But it was too late.
The big guilds had already established a presence; they controlled the trade routes, mines, production, and everything in between. For a production-class player to make a living, they would either have to join a guild that had the necessary resources to fuel their development or flounder for a while and then give up.
As for the non-production-class players, they all had visions of getting drops that would be worth millions and striking it big.
But alas, Magic Unbound wasn't that kind of game. While mobs did occasionally drop items, pieces of equipment worth the aforementioned millions were usually crafted – which was in the control of the guilds.
So, after trying to make a living – admittedly getting rather lucky with a few drops – Sam had to suck it up and join a guild. Thankfully, at that time, one of his 'friends' was part of a rather powerful guild and put in a good word for him.
Good word. Ha. As if.
He was rather desperate at the time, running low on his funds, so Sam only glanced through the contract before signing.
And as they say, the rest is history.
He did everything the guild told him to. He spied, stole, fought, bled, and died in copious amounts. He would say he was rather good at gathering information, which was proven by the huge number of notebooks and hard drives in his home that were full of it. Sam even managed to squirrel away a few tasty morsels for personal use – for the time when he would finally be free of that accursed contract.
And with this last job, he would be free. The task was big enough that the guild agreed to accept it as a payment, and release him from his – in their words – rather generous contract. He even had it in writing, learning from the last time he thought he would be finally free. He even had it checked by a lawyer. Sam already had some plans with a real friend about what he would do after the conclusion of this battle.
But of course, Fate wouldn't allow that.
He temporarily joined the guild that had found the magical crystal deposit to spy on them, and now he was stuck in the same place as they were, waiting for his inevitable death – which was rather bad for his plans.
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Death in
Magic Unbound
, depending on the situation, would cause you to lose some experience in skills or maybe drop an item. But for guild battles such as this, the penalty was agreed on by the fighting parties (and leaving the guild mid-battle was not an option). As he looked at the unworried guild leaders, it dawned on him that they were probably in on it - more than likely bought by one of the opposing guilds.
That was the only reason he could see why they would be fine with losing all their levels upon death in this battle
"Bastards!" he finally yelled, unable to hold in his rage.
They looked at him, and one of the bastards smirked. Then he – and everybody else standing around – heard a whistling noise. Sam whirled around, only to see a rapidly approaching ball of flame, magic, and certain death.
[You
are
dead.]
Sam threw the game helmet into the corner in rage and sat on his bed for a minute, clenching and unclenching his fist in frustration.
Then a string of words left his mouth that would have made even a ship full of sailors blush.
Reluctantly, Sam stood up from his bed and headed for his small bathroom to wash his face and, hopefully, cool his rage down somewhat.
It was only when he left the bathroom that he realized something was different about his living room, connected to his open kitchen.
And that something was a person sitting languidly on his couch, slowly paging through one of the notebooks that littered the room.
He stopped and just stared.
The other man noticed and, with a smirk, closed the notebook, tossed it aside, and looked at him.
"Hello, Solar."
"Mike. What are you doing here?"
"I must say, Solar, you do exemplary work with information," Mike said, ignoring his question and motioning toward the notebook. Then he looked into Sam's eyes and gave him a friendly smile – but Sam could see it was rather half-hearted. "I heard about the battle. I'm sorry..."
Sam opened his mouth to say something, but the only thing that came out was a rather impolite question.
"What are you doing here, Mike?"
Mike sighed and shook his head as if disappointed. Then he calmly reached into his jacket and, to Sam's horror, retrieved a gun, which he proceeded to point at him.
"Cleaning up loose ends."
Sam was dumbfounded. "What? Why? What did I do?"
Mike shook his head again.
"Nothing really, Solar. You're just too good at information gathering."
"B-but we planned to–"
Mike cut him off with a short laugh.
"Ha. Do you think I would be happy with the paltry sum that we would get if only the two of us worked on that project? No, Solar. The information is worth much more in the hands of the guilds."
Sam's blood froze. So that was it. His last real friend betrayed him.
If it weren't for the situation, he would have laughed.
He had been left by his parents at an orphanage. He had been left by his sweetheart. And one by one, he had been betrayed by those he called friends.
It seemed Fate wanted him to suffer no matter what.
He was about to argue – maybe even try to convince the other man to change his mind – though, from the cold, calculating look in Mike's eyes, Sam knew it would be futile. Still, he wanted to try. His life depended on it.
So, Sam opened his mouth.
A bang silenced him.
Surprised, still scarcely believing what was happening, he stared at the lightly smoking gun and the grimace on his once friend's face.
"There is no need to talk, Solar. This was already decided. And I want to make it to the victory party in time." His smirk grew cruel. "I heard Sarah will be there..."
Sam felt himself fall in slow motion, watching as Mike moved toward the door, one of Sam's notebooks in his hand. He reached out as if trying to stop his killer, but his arm refused to cooperate. When he tried to cry out, only a gurgle escaped his mouth, accompanied by a copious amount of blood.
He felt his back hit the floor with a dull thud, and despite the darkness closing in at the edges of his vision, he still saw the door click shut behind Mike.
Just as it clicked shut on his life.
No matter how Sam raged, tried to call out, or attempted to move toward a phone or computer to call for help, nothing worked.
His last thoughts were of revenge and fury – against the bastard who shot him, the guild that trapped him, the people who betrayed him, his parents for tossing him aside, and finally Fate for playing with him.
With his final sliver of consciousness, he even tried to pray to any deity who might listen, begging for a miracle or even a second chance.
But nobody listened.
So Samuel Oliver Lawrence, known as Solar in the gaming community – a low-level information broker – died in his empty apartment, which contained only the bare necessities, his computer, and his gaming rig.
Alone. Abandoned and ignored by everyone.
Samson – or Sam, as his friends called him – was bored.
He did what everyone expected of him. He went to a university, graduated almost on time, got a job at a multinational company, collected his paycheck, regularly visited his parents' graves, and met up with his friends when they called.
But being an introvert, he rarely left his home for anything else, so his social life wasn't something anyone would call great. Even his small group of friends introduced him as their 'most introverted friend'.
Still, he was content with his lot.
He had enough money that he didn't really need to worry. His small apartment suited him, and his computer was upgraded enough to run even the newest games.
And yet, Sam was bored.
Maybe it was depression again. After all, the therapist did say that living alone wasn't particularly conducive to one's mental health...
So, after a little thought, he decided to get some fresh-baked goods that might cheer him up.
Gathering his phone, keys, and wallet, he left his familiar home and walked slowly down the street lined with restaurants, bakeries, and other food shops. Living in the middle of the city had its advantages. And not just with his allergies.
He stepped around a small construction zone, his eyes locked on his favorite bakery, already smelling the freshly baked bread.
"Watch out!"
Sam barely had time to look up and register that a large piece of steel beam was falling toward him before everything went black.
Samson "Sam" Little – programmer, son, and friend to a few – died surrounded by aghast onlookers in a horrific construction accident.
The number of people attending his funeral would have surprised him.
Sam woke up panting, drenched in sweat, and very, very confused.
The last thing he remembered was imminent death. Yet here he was – alive and, after brief inspection, reasonably healthy.
After looking around, however, he realized he was nowhere he had ever gone to sleep before. The room he found himself in was dilapidated, with faded walls, old furniture, and a small draft coming from somewhere unseen. One object stood out: a rather futuristic-looking computer sitting on a desk in the corner.
He was about to stand up and inspect it when his body suddenly went numb, and he collapsed back onto the bed.
'So, I survived just to die again?'
Sam had only a moment to contemplate the thought before a brain-splitting headache reupted behind his eyes, as if every neuron in his skull had caught fire. After a brief scream of pain, he blacked out.
He woke up in the same bed, even more exhausted, drenched in sweat, and somewhat less confused.
Even before someone – or something – forced a lifetime of memories into his head, he suspected he had been transported to another world.
How could he not?
He had been a longtime fan of the genre, and he knew being struck by a steel beam falling at terminal velocity rarely left someone with a brain capable of generating elaborate hallucinations.
But now, with a person's memories lodged in his skull – delivered via a migraine of biblical proportions – he was almost certain.
The person whose body he now inhabited had been playing a virtual reality game that everyone in this world played. He had been skilled at certain aspects of it and possessed an almost photographic memory of information about the game. Then he had been betrayed and shot dead by a close friend for that very information.
It would have made for a standard revenge fantasy about dominating a VRMMO.
Except it wasn't the original owner who had woken up.
It was him.
And as Sam compared the shabby room around him with the inherited memories, he realized something else.
He hadn't just transmigrated.
He had also gone back in time.
Sam forced the foreign memories down temporarily, as the accompanying rage threatened to reignite the headache. Sitting upright on the creaking bed, he looked around once more.
"Now what?"