The biting cold of the harsh winter whipped at my face; it wasn't the familiar air conditioning of my room, but a cutting chill that seemed to tear at my soul.
The smell of smoke and burning flesh choked me, and my eyes struggled to discern anything beyond the thick smoke and flames licking at the few structures still standing.
Before me, the grotesque image of a village in ruins, consumed by fire, was a shocking contrast to the flickering monitor screen I was used to.
In the distance, brutal screams and laughter echoed, accompanied by the clanking of metal.
Shadowy figures, clad in ragged armor and wielding axes and swords, looted what remained of the houses, dragging bodies and spreading terror.
They were unmistakable: the Mist Raiders, the unscrupulous mercenaries who began Baelen's escape quest in "Astraea: Legacy of the Aeons," the fantasy RPG I had compulsively played for years.
But I wasn't playing. Not anymore.
My hands, once thin and agile on the keyboard, now seemed more robust, with long fingers and well-kept nails.
An aged silver ring with an iridescent opal gem adorned my ring finger, and my garments, in shades of night blue and silver, were of a fine, silky fabric, strangely familiar, but torn and dirty.
"This... this can't be real," I whispered, and the voice that came from my throat was deeper, more melodic than my own. It was the voice of Baelen, the Ether Weaver, the class I struggled to master due to its complex mechanics.
And then, a flash: "Mercenary Escape," Baelen Jean-Klerk's initial quest, where he needed to learn to manipulate his Reality Weaving powers to escape the Raiders.
The Ether Weaver class was notorious in "Astraea" for its difficulty. It wasn't about conjuring fireballs or wielding giant swords.
The Ether Weaver's unique power, Reality Weaving, allowed for the subtle manipulation of the environment's properties.
It didn't directly alter matter, but rather bent the "rules" or "conditions" of a limited space.
For example, it could amplify or silence sound, refract light to create perfect illusions or temporarily render something invisible, or even drastically alter the friction of a surface.
It was a power of control and subversion, requiring intelligence, creativity, and a deep understanding of the laws of physics (or what passed for physics in this world).
Suddenly, a shout sounded dangerously close. I turned abruptly, my heart pounding, to see three mercenaries approaching, their silhouettes imposing against the blaze.
Their weapons were raised, and their eyes, through the smoke, fixed on me with cruel hunger. I could feel their malice penetrate my skin like needles.
Baelen was known in the game's lore as a reclusive, socially awkward genius, of plebeian lineage, but with an "exotic" talent. This was one of the reasons he had been accepted into Lumina Academy without noble lineage or a sponsor.
"Well, well, what do we have here? A cornered rat?" one of them said, his voice hoarse, laden with malice, as he brandished a rusty axe. I still couldn't believe what was happening.
The shock was strong, but the smell of smoke and blood, the screams of terror and, more importantly, the men in front of me... it was all extremely...
Real. This is real. Holy shit.
"We hunt little rats, don't we, boys?" the hooded man said again, to the delight of his companions who laughed like hungry hyenas.
I swallowed hard, my mind racing to process the avalanche of information and the imminent threat.
I was in Astraea. I was Baelen.
And I needed to move, and fast.
This wasn't the life of a player who could restart the game.