Let Us Start the Game (2)

[Aiden Oliver]

A few days ago, he had a dream where he was killed by people he trusted. They were taciturn and strong, moving as if they knew everything that was about to unfold. He couldn't resist them at all. Once that short dream of meeting and dying ended, a new one began. They differed only in time and place, but the process and outcome were always the same, repeating endlessly. It went on so long that he lost track of the approximate count, and only then did he wake from the dream and return to reality.

Yesterday, he had a nightmare. But it was much better than a few days ago. The plot made no sense from start to finish, events ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠that felt vaguely familiar, and upon waking, he couldn't even remember the details properly. Just an ordinary dream influenced by strange memories.

And today... well, today was a bit odd.

A strange voice droned on with incomprehensible words. Genre, open world, RPG. Words he'd never heard, let alone understood. It seemed intent on conveying something to Aiden, but Aiden himself couldn't make sense of it.

The voice paused briefly after the word "end." Was this a dream? Could he dismiss it as such? He had a strong feeling that what he'd seen here would linger deeply in his memory, just like the dream from a few days ago.

If, by some chance, it wasn't an ordinary dream...

How on earth was he supposed to take this?

Morning came to Aiden Oliver. As expected, the dream was as vivid as yesterday's events and wouldn't fade easily. This would make it impossible to focus on work without distractions.

"Haa..."

As he stepped down from the carriage and sighed, his ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠breath clouded his vision. The carriage had arrived at its destination unnoticed, and the time for idle worries while sitting still was over. No more time to dwell on dreams.

That's how it should be, yet why wouldn't this unease subside?

"..."

Aiden shook his head slightly to force his thoughts to stop. He couldn't afford to keep getting lost in strange memories.

Next, he approached the coachman.

"You got lucky, don't you think?"

The coachman spoke to Aiden, who was gazing at the village after dismounting. It might have been incomprehensible otherwise, but Aiden knew the village's situation well and nodded.

What was it again? If memory served, bandits occasionally raided the village, threatening people—that was the request.

"Come to think of it, yeah. It was a dangerous place."

"Ah, so you knew before coming."

"Hope it wasn't too late..."

It had already taken days just to travel from the city to the snowfield. He'd worried someone else might have completed the request in that time, but the coachman shook his head.

"Nah. Word is, it'll take quite a while to resolve."

"Then... must be tough."

Aiden glanced at the village, presuming as much, but the coachman gave him a meaningful look. Unfortunately, Aiden missed it.

"Well... good luck. I gotta rest up and pick up more passengers soon."

"Wait, I have a question."

"If it's the inn, it's right over there. If you're after herbs—"

"Not that."

Aiden spread his hands to stop the coachman and got to the point. He was here for the request, sure, but another issue pressed now.

"Any caves around the village?"

"Hm?"

The coachman eyed Aiden curiously—unlike other mercenaries or visitors—but soon shrugged it off. Drifters like mercenaries were unpredictable anyway; nothing too strange about the question.

"None around the village. They would've avoided such spots when settling here. Who knows what might live there."

"...Fair enough."

Even Aiden realized it wasn't a sensible question. How would the coachman know? If he weren't so anxious, he wouldn't have asked.

"Thanks."

"Yup. Off you go."

The conversation ended there. The coachman quietly tended his horses afterward, sighing at the godforsaken village. But Aiden, oblivious to any pity, stepped into the village.

One of just two settlements in this frigid, harsh snowfield. Aiden had expected a small, tough place for living, but surprisingly, it had everything it needed. Not prosperous or comfortable by any means, but satisfactory.

'Guess I should just ask around casually.'

Aiden scanned the buildings, then sought passersby to ask directions. The first who caught his eye was a burly mercenary, so he approached.

"Mind a quick chat?"

Aiden approached casually, face impassive, but the reply was icy.

"Scram."

"Pardon?"

"Not in the mood. Scram."

What the...? Offended by the unexpected response, Aiden walked away without pressing. He disliked fights, and starting one right upon arrival would stir trouble.

But soon, he sensed something off.

"Here for a request? Give up. Hop back on that carriage. I'm heading out too."

"Another poor bastard..."

"Whatever."

Aiden kept approaching mercenaries for directions, but they all spouted nonsense, ignoring his questions. Just vague advice to kill time here, as nothing mattered.

'Why's everyone acting so weird?'

After repeated rejections, Aiden leaned against a building wall with a sigh. He'd come solely for the request, yet the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠mercenaries seemed uniformly listless or angry. Even forcing the cave topic yielded only "Dunno."

'This is a problem...'

But his priority was finding the cave from his memories. Those recent ones were still sharp, but memories fade unpredictably. Best to act while clear.

"Mister? Mister?"

A woman's voice came from his right. Nothing particularly distinctive, but oddly insistent.

"Don't talk to the mercenaries here. They're all on edge right now. Like what you just saw."

Aiden turned to see a woman who'd stood out but seemed no mercenary—he hadn't approached her. She'd apparently watched his futile questioning.

"Pardon?"

"Looking for something? I can help if I know it. If."

Pitying his plight, she even offered assistance unprompted. Probably wouldn't know much, though. Thinking her an ordinary villager, Aiden grasped at the straw anyway.

"Any caves nearby?"

"Uh... not super close, but I know one. Saw it a few days ago."

Her answer was wholly unexpected. The memory-cave seemed smack in the snowfield's midst; he'd only asked mercenaries likely to have scouted.

"Could you tell me where?"

"Sure. You look pathetic."

Unlike the others, she gladly gestured the location with her whole body. The "pathetic" bit stung a little.

Meanwhile.

In the snowfield's heart, bandits stripped a dying man of his weapons and bag.

"Idiot, wandering alone here?"

"Pearls on a pig. Useless skills, yet carrying decent gear."

Despite the fierce blizzard, the bandits mercilessly stripped the man they'd beaten senseless and dumped him on the ground.

That was the beginning of everything.

The game's prologue.

'Ugh, let me skip this tutorial already.'

PlayerOldman yawned boredly at the new run's start. He'd seen and endured this over ten times.

In the prologue, the protagonist always began robbed of everything by snowfield bandits.

'Speedrun this time? Clearing quests one by one is a drag.'

Oldman pondered his plan. Speedrun: rushing to clear the game as fast as possible. The game bored him now, but testing limits made it ideal.

'If so... kill Aiden, exit snowfield, fast travel right away. Can't remember more. Need to check a video.'

Run 23. Difficulty maxed long ago. But the method stayed the same.

Kill the pushover NPC Aiden Oliver in the snowfield cave, snag his weapon. Then straight to the final boss and kill that too. An hour's investment for the ending. That's how Oldman notched 26 clears.

Of course, it strayed far from the developer's intent.

Protagonist collapsed in tattered clothes, hovering near death. Aiden rescues him, they survive to the village—that's the game's start. Developers wanted players to savor the tale.

They wouldn't love "guides," even if intended.

'Whatever. No one plays tutorial straight anymore.'

But player-made optimal guides changed everything. Aiden's weapon was the best early-game grab.

Guides urged killing Aiden ASAP for it, and speedrunners followed for efficiency. Three years post-launch, everyone did it.

Prologue Aiden only had basic "ancient magic"—pathetic.

'Here we go.'

After the long wait, Oldman reached the game's true start.

Thud.

The player character, stripped of all possessions, lost consciousness. Soon, passing Aiden would seek the cave to aid him, launching the story.

Oldman had betrayed Aiden's kindness dozens of times, but the scripted NPC couldn't deviate.

Whoooosh...

The snowfield's biting wind howled. Yeti cries echoed distantly, followed by the famed OST's intro—commissioned from a top composer.

Now, the viewpoint shifts: footsteps track to the protagonist, Aiden appears.

So...

Any moment now.

'...Where is he?'

No Aiden in the snowfield where his footsteps should've crunched. Not even common monsters. Less a change than a freeze.

'Bug? Restart?'

After ages waiting, Oldman chalked it to a bug. Unthinkable for anyone, let alone his hundreds of hours.

No Aiden, stalled prologue. Critical bug—should never happen.

'Damn, gotta relaunch...'

But as Oldman moved to restart, the unthinkable unfolded.

His supposedly unconscious character rose. Ignoring cold, ordeal, wounds. Silently, it gripped the lone remaining ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠weapon: chipped sword.

Then, the familiar game UI appeared.

'...What the hell?'

Game started without meeting Aiden. Impossible—prologue hinges on it.

Yet it progressed smoothly, urging story via RESERVE—a familiar unused-element quest name.

'Unused quest...? Otherwise, I'd have seen it.'

Oldman grinned at his rational conclusion. Wiki/community hunter, he knew no one else encountered this.

New story in a game that moralizes endings? Epic find.

'This'll pull aggro.'

Oldman started recording. Prologue-exclusive new quest might stir waves. Community likes and cheers at minimum.

'Recording started.'

Confirming the program, Oldman moved the protagonist. Destination: prologue's origin cave.