Morning light slipped through the curtains, pale and weak, brushing against the stale air of a room that hadn't seen rest in days.
The desk looked like a warzone—scattered notes, messy arrows, smudged circles layered over each other like a tactician's graveyard. Arven had logged every pattern, every mistake, every moment that could've been a turning point.
Most of the week had gone into theory threads and group chats. Bouncing ideas, tweaking strats, arguing over damage windows with sleep-deprived lunatics who understood that yes, one extra second of invulnerability window did make all the difference.
Solo clear.
He'd spent days picking apart the Balrog Raid, determined to beat it without a party. It took dozens of attempts, endless trial-and-error, and pushing his class's limits until there was nothing left to squeeze.
Take the hits. Dish them back. Patch himself up after.
A walking raid team—minus the loot drama.
No one else even tried. It was too hard. Too long. Too insane.
And now that it was over…
He didn't cheer. He didn't even stand.
The silence hit harder than the boss ever did.
Arven just sat there, slumped in his chair, staring at the victory screen like it might vanish if he blinked. One twitch of his fingers on the mouse. A slow breath that fogged the edge of his monitor.
Arven93—his character, named after himself—stood alone in the center of the ruined arena, surrounded by pixelated corpses.
At the far edge of the arena, the stone platform was clawed and scorched—deep gouges torn through stone where something massive had once stood.
Now, the platform was crumbled, shattered along the edges, as if it had been ripped from its place and dragged across the floor. The claw marks trailed behind it, scarring a path across the arena…
All the way to the pit.
A jagged, gaping hole in the far wall—black, raw, and pulsing faintly.
Something had been dragged back there. Banished. Sealed.
Faint red glyphs still pulsed along the cracks—flickering like a broken animation, like they were trying to rewrite themselves.
And then—something flickered.
The screen twitched. Then glitched out completely.
He blinked.
Symbols began crawling out of the black—slow at first, like they were dragging themselves from some unseen pit.
Glitched characters. Or maybe… runes.
They multiplied fast—crawling out from the pit, twisting across the screen in jagged lines of red light.
Within seconds, they flooded everything.
And then, at the center—
ᛇ ᛏ ᛟ ᛉ ᚹ ᛜ ᚲ ᛋ
Eight of them, pulsing in sequence. Each one stayed just long enough to burn into his memory.
The runes began to move—slowly circling, forming a ring of pulsing light.
In the middle of it, a darkness spread.
Thick. Endless.
Like a gate, yawning open.
Arven stared, momentarily stunned."…Impressive graphics, Runebound Chronicles," he muttered, offering the devs a slow clap.
A moment later, something crawled out of the darkness.
A skeleton dog.
It stepped forward, bones clicking with each motion—then paused, and somehow… wagged its tail.
The skeleton dog tilted its head, then started bouncing in place—bones rattling, tail wagging, almost… excited.
Arven blinked. It wasn't just animated—it felt alive. Too smooth. Too expressive.
Then the dog lunged—not in attack, but like it was trying to reach him through the screen.
He froze, watching it. It looked happy. And strangely, he felt that too—warmth, recognition.
Like meeting an old friend he hadn't known he missed.
Slowly, almost without thinking, he reached out.
His fingertip touched the glass.
The screen pulsed once.
And then—everything went black.
* * *
When Arven opened his eyes again, the first thing he noticed was the wind.
Not the low whirr of his desk fan—but actual wind. Cool and fresh, brushing through his hair like a gentle whisper.
The scent of pine, damp earth, and wildflowers filled his lungs. Sunlight poured over his skin, warm and real.
He sat up with a jolt.
His fingers sank into grass. Soft, damp, alive. Definitely not his room.
No desk. No monitor. No chair. No keyboard.
All gone.
In their place was a forest clearing—quiet and sun-drenched, surrounded by towering trees and mushrooms that glowed faintly with an otherworldly blue light.
And he was wearing… a noble's outfit?
He glanced down.
Deep blue fabric with gold trim. A silver chestplate gleamed faintly in the sun, etched with an intricate crest.
His heart skipped a beat.
The Elmwald crest.
One of the most prestigious noble houses in Runebound Online—the very game he'd just been playing.
His pulse quickened. He reached for the crest instinctively—and nearly stumbled when a semi-transparent blue menu blinked into view.
[Name: Arven Elmwald]
[Class: Monster Tamer]
[Level: 1]
[Status: Normal]
[Companions: None]
[Skills: Taming Lv.1, Summon Lv.1, Runeweaving Lv.1]
Monster Tamer.
That... wasn't right.
Even when playing the game, he'd always been a Paladin—the shield and spear, the golden armor, the skills that had carried him through raids. Yet the window hovering before him listed something entirely different, with not a single familiar skill in sight.
It had to be a dream. But the longer he looked, the less it felt like one. Colors seemed sharper here, textures richer, the air heavier against his skin. Every blink dragged, too slow, too real.
The noble outfit draped over him was deep blue with gold trim, immaculate to the point of uselessness. It wasn't armor—just a ceremonial getup, fit for banquets, not battle.
The fabric bore the Elmwald crest—same hues, same patterns from the in-game banners and strongholds.
Then the golden text shimmered faintly at the bottom of the screen, like a quiet afterthought:
"Welcome, Heir of Elmwald."
His eyes lingered on the phrase.
* * *
[Class: Monster Tamer]
[A forgotten class lost to the flow of time. Bond with creatures, earn their trust, and let them fight alongside you. Only the worthy may walk this path.]
He stared at the interface.
He'd studied every scrap of lore, dissected every patch note, combed through hidden event flags and dev tool leaks. There was no record of this class. No precedent.
But instead of panic, something else stirred.
Wonder.
The kind that made his fingers tingle and his chest feel too small for the air he was breathing. The kind that only came from brushing against something no one else had touched.
Sunlight spilled between the branches, painting the forest floor in gold. Pine and wildflower scents drifted on the wind. Every breath felt like waking up for the first time.
Maybe it was a dream.Maybe it wasn't.
But he didn't try to tear it apart. Didn't waste time questioning the rules.
'In this moment, whether a dream or reality, I choose to live as if both are true.'
The words echoed quietly in his head—his favorite quote, and now, his anchor.
He smiled, and stepped forward.
The world he came from—the one of gray skies, deadlines, and lifeless routines—already felt far away. Here, the air carried pine and wildflowers, sunlight pooled like gold across the forest floor, and the horizon promised adventure.
If this world saw him as Arven Elmwald, then he would live it.Not as the man he was before.But as the heir of Elmwald.
* * *
As he is savoring the moment.... a soft clink behind him.
A small figure emerged from the tall grass.
A dog.
Or rather... something that had been a dog. Its body was all bone, like the glitch creature before.
A skeleton hound about the size of a beagle, its hollow eye sockets glowing faint blue.
A worn collar hung around its neck, etched with runes faded by time.
It stopped a few feet away and tilted its head.
He stared.
There had been no such creature in the game—but something about it felt right. Familiar.
It looked just like the skeleton dog from before the white flash.
Then the system blinked:
[A wandering spirit seeks companionship.]
[Yes / No]
He hesitated only a second, then thought Yes.
Warm light engulfed the hound. New messages rolled across his vision:
[You have bonded with: Void Hound]
[Name your companion.]
The corner of his mouth lifted."Small, scrappy, made of nothing but bones…" His eyes lingered on the faint blue glow in its sockets. "You're Skele now."
The hound wagged its bony tail and trotted closer, rubbing its skull against his leg.
[New Trait Unlocked: Monster Affinity]
His chest tightened—not with fear, but with a strange comfort he couldn't explain.
He found me.
The thought came unbidden, clear as the pale glow in the hound's eyes. That glitch… Skele had to be part of it.
He knelt and scratched under the dog's chin, though there was no fur to ruffle."Glad to meet you, bud."
Thus began Arven's journey into the world of Runebound—with a skeleton dog and a forgotten class.
* * *
By afternoon, he was moving deeper into the forest, piecing things together.
The monsters, the plants, even the slope of the terrain—it all matched Runebound Online. Westward, he spotted a river whose curve mirrored Mebu Lake in Elmwald territory. A landmark, at last.
But "Monster Tamer" had never existed in the game.
And "Void Hound" wasn't in any bestiary.
Skele trailed at his heels, acting for all the world like a loyal hunting dog—if hunting dogs were made of bones. The hound lunged into a bush, dragging out a squealing, mushroom-like creature.
Arven tapped the bond command. Nothing.
"Guess not every monster wants to be friends."
With a small sigh, he drew his starter dagger and finished the fight.
[Skele gained EXP.]
[Arven gained EXP.]
[Skele leveled up.]
So they shared experience, then. Interesting — they could grow together.
Skele's presence felt a little sharper, his movements quicker.
* * *
The stream's quiet gurgle faded into the background as Arven let his mind wander.
The ruined chapel wasn't far—at least, not if the map in his head was still accurate. In the game, it had been tucked behind layers of annoying mob spawns and environmental hazards—stuff meant to keep low-level players from poking around.
He glanced at Skele. The hound's skull rested on its forelegs, hollow eye sockets faintly aglow in the moonlight. Bones didn't rise and fall with breathing, yet the steady click of joints felt…alive.
"Guess it's you and me, partner."
The glow in Skele's eyes flared faintly, and Arven wasn't sure if it was coincidence. He decided not to question it.
First the chapel. Then, once they were done there, they could follow the road to Elloria. If the secret boss and unlisted item were still under the ruins, it would confirm that at least some of his old knowledge still worked here. And if not…
Well. He'd adapt.
The forest around them settled into silence, broken only by the occasional rustle in the undergrowth. Above, the moon slid higher, bathing the clearing in pale silver. Arven leaned back against a tree and let sleep take him.