Ethan opened his eyes to rough wooden beams and the smell of old straw.
For a moment—just one moment—he thought he might be back in his apartment, that this had all been some bizarre, hyper-realistic dream brought on by sleep deprivation and despair… He thought wrong.
He sat up, and felt the way his body moved wrong but natural. The perspective was all off. He looked down at his hands, certainly not "his".
"Still here," he muttered.
The words came out in a voice that was his but also wasn't—deeper, richer. The voice of Yamamoto Odinson, not Ethan Chen.
He swung his legs out of bed, or at least attempted to as a sharp pain assaulted his spine from sleeping in an awkward position.
'Certainly the experience...'
He sat there for a long moment, elbows on his knees, face in his hands. The denial he'd been clinging to evaporated like vapour from a teapot. Surprisingly also, the pain he felt slowly disappeared and he felt alright once again.
Well, at least now he had confirmed that this wasn't a dream, neither was it a temporary situation. Whatever had happened to him, whatever impossible circumstances had brought him here, this was his reality now.
So… What was he going to do about it?
Ethan—no, Yamamoto now, anyone would suppose—stood and walked to the small window. Outside, Salt Fish Town was waking up. The festival had ended now, just like in the game, and now people were going about their normal routines. He even spotted some fishermen heading to the docks… The ordinary rhythm of life in a small town.
Now as for himself, he could have sat there to mope about how his old life was gone, his apartment, his computer, his world—all of that stuff, but even he knew he would just be wasting time and accomplishing nothing.
Yamamoto felt a strange clarity settling over him. He'd wasted thirty-eight years being reactive, passive, letting life happen to him. Always taking the path of least resistance, always choosing the comfortable numbness of games over the hard work of building something real.
Well, not only did he have the opportunity now, he also didn't have that luxury anymore.
Not to mention, he was now in a world he had spent years roaming and mastering, this was like home turf. If he was going to survive and thrive in this new world, he needed to use every advantage he had. Of course, that was knowledge.
Yamamoto closed his eyes, sifting through his memories. Lost World Online had been his life. He'd memorized spawn tables, optimal skill rotations, hidden quest chains, secret hunting grounds. He'd read almost every wiki entry, watched guide videos, discussed strategy on forums until 3 AM, even played over several times on burner accounts.
All of that seemingly useless information—useless in his old world—was suddenly the most valuable thing he possessed.
Luckily for him, because he frequented new accounts for different reasons, he had played the starts of beginner towns a lot, so the information wasn't lost in his mind.
There had been several categories: time-limited quests that only appeared within specific windows after launch, level-gated quests that disappeared once you hit certain levels, and location-specific quests tied to beginner towns.
The level-gated and location-specific ones could wait. Those would still be available.
Apart from that, he focused on the beginning of the game, those early days after launch. There was a particular secret quest that could only be done once and gotten once.
There were a few such quests, but thinking on it, only one was doable and nearby for him. Then again, out of the maybe five or six time limited quests at the start of the game, he could only remember two.
The first was in the neighboring town—Millhaven, if he recalled correctly. It triggered on the fifth night after the game's launch and only that night. Miss it, and it was gone forever.
The second was in a town much farther away, at least a week's travel. There was no way he could reach it in time.
But the first one… that was doable.
The quest itself was infamous in the community. It was called "The Grieving Father's Revenge," and it was brutally difficult for new characters. The reward was supposedly incredible—a Rare-grade item when most players were still wearing Common garbage, plus significant experience, mastery points and stat points.
Though he wasn't sure, it was possible the quest had to be completed before one reached level ten.
Well, that didn't matter much, not when he knew how to go about the quest.
He grabbed his Novice Sword, checked his starter gear one more time, and headed downstairs. The common room was mostly empty—too early for the lunch crowd.
"Leaving already?" Grom asked from behind the bar, raising an eyebrow. "Paid for breakfast, you know."
"I'll take something to go if you have it."
Grom shrugged and disappeared into the kitchen, returning a moment later with a cloth-wrapped bundle. "Bread and cheese. Not fancy, but it'll keep."
"Perfect." Yamamoto accepted it and headed for the door.
"Hey, lad," Grom called after him. "You look like you're heading somewhere with purpose. Be careful out there. Lot of dangers for someone your… level."
Yamamoto paused when he heard it. Had Grom just assessed his level?