Training with Kieran began at dawn the next day.
He'd led me to a private training ground on the outskirts of Verdantis, apparently one of the perks of being a high-level player was access to instanced areas where you wouldn't accidentally freeze other people's faces off.
"Okay," Kieran said, standing across from me in the empty courtyard. "Show me what you can do naturally."
I held out my hand and concentrated. The ice magic responded immediately, frost crawling across my palm and forming into a small shard. It felt different than when I'd been Glaciana—less instinctive, requiring more conscious effort—but it was still there.
I threw the shard. It sailed about ten feet before shattering against the ground.
"Pathetic," I muttered.
"Actually, that's impressive," Kieran said. "You're a level one human with S-class boss residue. The fact that you can manifest anything at all is remarkable." He walked over, examining the frost pattern I'd left on the ground. "The magic is there, but it's like... like you're trying to use a muscle you haven't exercised in months. We need to rebuild your strength."
We spent three hours that first morning just on basic manifestation. Creating ice, shaping it, sustaining it. By the end, I could form a spike the size of my forearm and keep it solid for almost a minute.
"Progress," Kieran declared. "Tomorrow we'll work on combat applications."
The second day, he taught me how to coat my hands in ice for blocking and striking. The third day, we worked on defensive barriers. By the fourth day, I could create a wall thick enough to stop one of his blue fireballs, though it shattered immediately after.
"You're learning fast," he commented during a water break. "Faster than most mages."
"I have three hundred years of Glaciana's muscle memory," I said, flexing my frost-coated fingers. "My body's forgotten, but my mind remembers. I just need to reconnect them."
"Speaking of connections," Kieran said, "we should start recruiting. I put out some feelers in the adventurer's guild. Got two responses that look promising."
The first potential party member arrived that afternoon.
He was impossible to miss; a mountain of a man, easily six and a half feet tall, with broad shoulders that barely fit through the training ground entrance. His armor was immaculate heavy plate, and he carried a shield that looked like it could stop a charging bull.
"You Kieran?" he asked, his voice a deep rumble.
"That's me. You must be Markus."
"Just Mark." The man's eyes found me, and he gave a small nod. "Ma'am. Heard you two are putting together a party for empire-hopping. I'm interested."
Mark had a straightforward story. He was a player logged in and out regularly who'd been playing for two years as a dedicated tank. He was level seventy-two, specialized in protection and crowd control, and according to his gear, he'd cleared most of the major dungeons in the game.
He was also, objectively, very handsome. Square jaw, warm brown eyes, a scar across his cheek that somehow made him more attractive rather than less.
"Why do you want to join?" I asked, trying to focus on relevant questions instead of staring.
"Honestly? I'm bored." Mark leaned against his shield. "I've tanked every raid, cleared every dungeon. The endgame content is getting repetitive. But traveling to all five empire capitals, dealing with whatever's guarding these... fragments, was it?" He grinned. "That sounds like an actual adventure."
"It could be dangerous," Kieran warned.
"I'm a tank. Dangerous is my job description."
We ran him through a test combat. Mark versus a summoned ice construct I'd managed to create with Kieran's help. The construct was crude, barely cohesive, but it hit hard.
Mark didn't even flinch. He positioned himself perfectly, shield absorbing blows that should have staggered him, taunting the construct to keep its attention. When it tried to maneuver around him, he cut it off with practiced ease.
"He's good," I admitted after we dismissed the construct.
"He's very good," Kieran agreed. "Mark, welcome to the party."
The second recruit arrived two days later.
Where Mark was imposing through size, this man was imposing through sheer presence. He was older with a magnificent salt-and-pepper beard that reached mid-chest. His robes were covered in arcane symbols that actually glowed faintly, and he carried a staff topped with a crystal that pulsed with contained magic.
"Aldric Stonehaven," he introduced himself with a slight bow. "Archmage, scholar, and apparently your new party mage."
"That's assuming you pass the interview," I said.
"Oh, I'll pass." His eyes twinkled with amusement. "I'm the best combat mage in Verdantis, possibly the continent. But more importantly, I'm NPC-born."
That made all three of us pause.
"You're native to this world?" Kieran asked carefully.
"Born and raised. Thirty years studying magic in the Ivory Tower, another fifteen as an adventurer." Aldric's expression turned serious. "Which means I know things about this world that you players often miss. The history. The politics. The old magic that existed before your 'game' overlaid itself on our reality."
"You know this is a game?" I asked, surprised.
"My dear, I'm a scholar. Of course I figured it out." He tapped his staff against the ground. "The players appeared three years ago, immortal, able to see information that we cannot, following 'quests' that sometimes make no narrative sense. It wasn't difficult to theorize. Though most of my colleagues prefer to believe you're blessed by the gods rather than face the existential implications."
Kieran and I exchanged glances.
"Why do you want to help us?" I asked.
"Because you're attempting something unprecedented. Collecting scattered fragments of mortality? Trying to break someone free from the system's constraints?" Aldric's smile was sharp. "That's not a quest any player has attempted. That's genuine exploration of the world's underlying mechanics. As a scholar, I find that irresistible."
"And you're okay with potentially dying?" Mark asked. "You NPCs don't respawn."
"I'm level eighty-three and have survived four decades of adventuring," Aldric said dryly. "I'm well-acquainted with mortality, young man. Which is why I'm still here."
We tested him too, a magical duel with Kieran while Mark and I watched. It was spectacular. Aldric wielded elements like a conductor leading an orchestra: fire and lightning, force and wind, perfectly timed and devastating. Kieran had to use his azure flames at full intensity just to keep up.
"He's incredible," I breathed.
"He's also arrogant," Mark observed, "but I'll take arrogant and skilled over humble and dead."
When they finished, Aldric winning by a hair—the old mage wasn't even breathing hard.
"So," he said, straightening his robes. "Do I pass your interview?"
"Yes," Kieran said immediately. "Though I have to ask, you said you're NPC-born. Doesn't it bother you that your world might be a game?"
"Bother me?" Aldric chuckled. "My boy, I've spent my entire life studying magic that defies explanation. Learning that reality has underlying rules and systems? That's not horrifying—that's validating. It means magic isn't random. It can be understood, manipulated, possibly even rewritten." His eyes gleamed. "That's what your quest represents. A chance to hack reality itself."
That evening, our party of four sat around a table in The Copper Kettle, planning our route.
"The nearest fragment," I said, focusing on that internal pull, "is northeast. Three days' travel, maybe four."
"That's the Crimson Empire," Aldric noted, unrolling a map. "Capital city of Ashenfell. Fire-aspected territory."
"Of course it is," I sighed. "My ice magic will be less effective there."
"But my flames will be stronger," Kieran pointed out. "Every fragment location will favor different elements. That's probably intentional."
"Then we'll adapt," Mark said simply. "That's what parties do."
I looked around the table at my unlikely companions. A blue-haired hero seeking redemption. A handsome tank looking for adventure. A bearded mage chasing knowledge. And me, a former boss trying to go home.
"We leave in two days," I decided. "That gives us time to gather supplies and for me to train more. Aldric, can you research Ashenfell? Find out what kind of security we're dealing with?"
"Already planning to."
"Mark, we'll need camping gear for four. And probably a cart."
"On it."
"Kieran—"
"More training sessions," he finished. "I know. We'll get your ice magic combat-ready before we leave."
It wasn't a per fect plan. We didn't know what we'd find at the fragment locations, or if collecting them would even work. But it was a start.