I reached the open gate, and nobody was stopping me. As impressive as the wall was, what was beyond it blew my mind. The fort it ected to rawling mixture of sturdy stones and the tiered elegance of a citadel from the far east. Like smashing several building styles together.

  I bet that’s what happened. Lucas left them to build whatever.

  I couldn’t stop the grin at my lips as I watched the stone walls which bristled with watchtowers, while curving roofs adorned with weird carvings gave the structure a bizarre silhouette.

  Wooden beams supported decorative eaves designed in basies, trasting with the stone’s cool gray. There were even narrow courtyards and sloping paths weaviween barracks, stables, and armories.

  It was easily rger than the one I’d been statio as a sergeant. That fort could host an imperial doan—a brigade—but this?

  This looked like it could house aire division.

  Lucas is crazy.

  I walked in awe, and took in the air that smelled of freshly hewn wood and damp stone, mixing with the tang of iron from the nearby fe.

  Pyers had turhe area into a bustling marketpce, their voices rising in a chatter of haggling and ughing. Hundreds of them mingled around, sellis, herbs, and other loot drops from the nearby leveling zones.

  “Yeah, the reason I picked this location. Prime leveling pearby, pretty tral location,” I said out loud, half to myself. The prince, of course, took it as if I were addressing him.

  “Not a terrible pce. Irwen will torch it, though,” he said.

  Ever the optimist, this one.

  I ignored him a my gaze wander over the crowd, the activity that filled the makeshift vilge. Most of them were human, likely refugees from the elven starting vilges rants seeking safety as rumors of the invading army spread.

  Here and there, I spotted familiar faces from my brief visits to vilges and even a pyer who’d tried to sell me the overpriced pelt of my enemies!

  I couldn’t help but smile.

  Step one: reize people.

  Step two: maybe talk to them someday.

  “Impressive, though,” the prince tinued, his tone begrudgingly curious as I walked toward my fort. “They built all these houses in how long? A few days? The people from your world are what? Hyperactive builders?”

  I giggled, shaking my head as I stepped around a vendor peddling what looked suspiciously like wolf meat beled as Prime Beast Cuts. “Weird how a few quests motivate people, eh?”

  The prince huffed, clearly unimpressed. “Motivation, perhaps. But will their shoddy craftsmanship withstand what’s ing?”

  “Oh, hush,” I muttered, rolling my eyes as the fort’s shadow loomed over me. Whatever doubts I had, I couldn’t deny that the sight of a bustling, thriving unity made the looming battle seem a little less daunting.

  As I reached the front of the fort, my breath hitched, my heart ached, and before I could stop them, tears welled in my eyes. There it was—a banner so massive it could overshadow even a s, billowing proudly in the wind. Magic lights illumi like a bea in the dusk. And on it?

  My crest.

  My snowfke crest.

  The detail was fwless, delicate lines of frosty blue inscribed into the background. The sheer size and brilliance of it made my knees weak.

  I’d always wahis. Always. Ba the test servers, I had titles—sure—but they were fleeting. Wiped away every few weeks with the resets, like writing on sand before the tide came in.

  But this?

  This erma. This was mine.

  “Yes,” I whispered, my voice breaking as the tears spilled over. I pressed my hands to my mouth, trying to stifle the sobs that came anyway. Everything that had happeoday—crazy, chaotid exhausting—paled at this feeling.

  I made it.

  For a fleeting moment, joy ed me. Pride warmed my chest, swelling until I thought it might burst. But as quickly as it came, an icy fear gripped me, freezing that joy in its tracks. My breath caught again, but this time, it wasn’t from awe.

  It was terror.

  This is real.

  The thought hit me like a tidal wave. I wasn’t John anymore. I wasn’t the awkward guy hiding behind a gss of whiskey. No.

  I was Charlie.

  And Charlie wasn’t just an avatar. She erson—a whole person, with her own life, identity, and story.

  My old life? Gone.

  I staggered slightly, gripping the edge of the fort for support as the realization tightes grip. John was… a memory. A phantom. And the person standing here, staring at that snowfke crest with tears in her eyes, wasn’t him.

  I’m not me.

  The thought paralyzed me. It was too much. Too heavy. The weight of it pressed down on my chest, making it hard to breathe.

  I stood there, trembling, as the banner fluttered above me, eaap of the fabri the wind a reminder of how far I’d e—and how far I’d left behind.

  Last week, I was nursing a whiskey and whining to Patrick about my brewing job termination. Fast forward a single week, and here I was, standing before a fortress that bore my banner.

  “It’s too much…” I whispered, choking on the words as the sobs broke free.

  The prince’s voiapped through my mind, sharp and suspicious. “Has someone cast a fear spell on you? Who was it? I ’t see them!”

  I let out a weak, humorless ugh. “No, nothing like that,” I managed between gulps of air. “I just… realized a few things…”

  “Women,” the prince scoffed. “All the same. Overthinking everything. Get over it.”

  Woman.

  That word struck harder than his dismissal. I stood there, trembling, as the banner rippled and snapped in the wind above me. Its fluttering edges seemed to slice through the st lingering shreds of the man I used to be.

  John.

  A blurry image of my old self flickered in my mind—hunched over a bar, grumbling about life’s unfairness.

  That wasn’t all, though. John had mastered the way of the sword. He’d faced mythical beasts, one-on-one, and triumphed. Syer of the toughest creatures. The best exploiter in Rimelion. A legend amoers.

  But with every snap of the banner, every glimmer of the snowfke crest catg the sunlight, that image faded. Not gone pletely, but shifting into the background.

  I wasn’t John anymore. I was being something else.

  Someone else.

  A part of John would always remain, whispering in the bay mind. The taste of whiskey, the memory of exploits, the foundation of who I once was. But that wasn’t my story anymore. And that banner?

  It told me so.

  And as overwhelming as that was, the realization didn’t bring relief. It didn’t bring joy. It brought a hollow ache in my chest, like m a shadow you barely reize but ’t let go of.

  I plopped down onto a log—likely dragged here by one of the industrious pyers—ahe world quiet arouhe hum of activity in the area faded into the background as I wrestled with my thoughts, chewing on the chaos of the day.

  Riker. Insufferable, yes. But also an ally, I admitted begrudgingly. As much as I hated giving him credit, he was the key. If his wild theory about this world being more than just a game held a, he might just lead me to the answers I needed.

  And Irwen… If my gut was right, she was my mother.

  Somehow.

  The e felt like a splinter lodged deep in my brain, impossible to ignore. But how or why? That was a riddle I’d have to solve myself. The looming battle felt like the perfect time to get answers. To prove to her, and to myself, who I really was. Not her daughter. Not who she thinks I am.

  But me.

  The more I mulled it over, the more pns took shape. Each piece slid into pce like a puzzle, aligning perfectly. The swirling mess in my chest stilled, repced by a growing fidence.

  A sense of purpose.

  I stood abruptly, brushing off the dust from my dress. “Prihe first thing we o do is ehe battle with Irwen is one where we leave everything otlefield,” I said aloud, my voice firm.

  The prince scoffed in my mind, but I could feel his amusement. “Spoken like a true royal, despite being a pretender!”

  I smirked, the sting of his jab rolling off me like a fifth whiskey. “Pretender or not, you’re stuck with me. So let’s make it t.”

  The moment I stepped into the fort’s entrance, I felt a shift in the air—a tension mingled with the king sounds of armor and muted chatter. The soldiers inside moved with purpose, attending to tasks that varied from sharpening ons to huddling over something spread ohered tables.

  The main building immediately caught my eye.

  Its weird stone facade and the heavy, iron-cd dave off the air of authority. The peone important—like me, for instance—would hole up in.

  Naturally, I made my way there.

  Two soldiers fhe door, casually chatting, their postures rexed but their eyes alert. As I approached, their versation tapered off, and I could feel their gazes sweep over me, appraising and skeptical. Before I could reach the door, I was stopped by a woman who stepped in my path.

  Her armor olished to perfe, and on her right breastpte was my crest—a snowfke painted in icy blue and silver. On her left side sat the imperial crest, of course. The sight of my crest hit me like a rge tip.

  She raised a gaued hand, palm out. “Sorry, but nobody outside of the military is allowed inside.”

  I couldn’t stop the grin that spread ay face. My soldiers.

  “Yes, I’m aware,” I said evenly, though the prince’s amused chuckle in my mind made me hesitant. No messing here, that would be pretender behavior.

  So, I went for crity. “My name is Princess Charlie, and I own this fort. This is my sig ring as proof.” I held out my hand, letting the ring catch the magic light, showing the same crest as on her armor or the banner outside. “Please, let me inside—or feteone who verify.”

  The woman’s eyes flicked to the ring, and her expression chilled. Her gaze darted between my fad the ring. Then, with a sharp intake of breath, she cursed under her breath. “Damn!” She reached into a pouch at her side and pulled out a silver , tossing it to the sed soldier, who caught it mid-air with a satisfied grin.

  “You won,” she muttered to him, before turnitention bae. “And for you, dy,” she said, her tone annoyed, “pretending to be an imperial noble is a high offense. Be gd I’m feeling generous today, despite losing my bet.”

  The prince’s ughter rang out in my mind, smug and thhly enjoying my predit. “Pretender indeed!”

  I rolled my eyes internally, my patience fraying as I kept my expression serene. “I assure you,” I said, keeping my voice calm, “I am no pretender. Now, are you going to let me pass, please, or you call someone who verify my ring?”

  The soldier’s expression turned more irritated for a moment. “You will be punished if...” She gnced again at the ring a out a sigh. “Wait here,” she said curtly, before turning to her panion auring for him to head inside.

  As he moved to feteone, I could still hear the prince’s voi my head, practically cag. “Pretend, they said. How fitting for the pretender! You might as well embrace the title.”

  “Do you ever stop?” I muttered under my breath, but I couldn’t help the faint smirk tugging at the ers of my mouth.