Melia the Magnificent

Brandy stood and stretched, forgetting once again to angle her arms so her hands didn’t scrape along the ceiling of their modest inn room. This new body of hers had just as many drawbacks as it did bonuses.

No, that was a lie. This body was amazing, if somewhat bizarre and awkward to get used to. Any time she looked in a mirror, she had to do a double-take, still surprised at the pinkness of her skin and greenness of her hair. Her eyes and ears gave her less pause as of late than everything else, but it was her height she struggled to adapt to. As someone whose original body was average height at best, she had no business being so comfortable in something a solid two feet taller. As such, she often forgot to duck under doors or keep her arms low, like right now, because for the last 28 years, she never had to worry about such things, and she didn’t feel radically different.

And none of that began to describe how alive she felt. It was like this body took all that energy she remembered having as a kid and bottled it into a time-release pill, stuck on infinite repeat. If she wasn’t careful, she’d find herself bouncing on the balls of her feet, her seemingly endless energy screaming to get out.

Brandy would not be surprised at all to find she could pull a full front flip from the standing position, just like the high elf characters were known for in the game.

Brandy hadn’t actually tried it yet, but she was athletic, having spent years conditioning for the cheer squad. The last few had started to erode her physique due to a more sedentary lifestyle.

But that brought up another point: a game, this world was not. Even in the new, cutting-edge, deep-dive technology she was supposed to be testing that sent her to this world, nobody promised or expected sensations to be so real.

Case in point: Brandy pulled her hands close to her mouth to suck on a knuckle instinctively after scraping it. That wasn’t a programmed response. It wasn’t something any sort of game could ever predict. Same with the slight musty smell of stale clothes dusted with light sweat and giant cat hair. Brandy quickly changed into another dress, not looking forward to fantasy laundry.

“Hey, has anybody checked on the strawberry elf?” Brandy heard Jessica’s voice from the hallway. She repressed a chuckle. Strawberry elf. Brandy would cry if it weren’t so true. And she had to hand it to the girl; Jessica had no problems calling her that to her face, so it wasn’t poorly hidden racism. The girl was just built crudely, especially since she truly didn’t mean anything by it. She simply spouted the first words to escape her lips before her brain could filter them.

And speaking of crying….

Brandy took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and centered herself. She was strong. She had to be strong. Not because she was trying to hide her true self from these people, who seemed to think she really was special with her [Saint] class, but for Melia. The poor girl had always worn her emotions on her sleeve, and even if she had the strongest will out of anybody Brandy had ever met, she didn’t know how the gnome would handle a full-body meltdown. With the power of a dragon hidden inside her? It wouldn’t be pretty.

The first few weeks Brandy had been in this world, she had felt extremely detached. Or, perhaps more accurately, apathetic. She truly didn’t care if she lived or died, which made it hard to manifest any sort of emotion. Seeing Melia weep her expressive little eyes out over their reunion had shocked Brandy to the core, like the tears themselves didn’t know what to do. After Melia and the princess left, Brandy spent at least a full hour in seclusion, crying, weeping, wailing, and otherwise leaking every fluid from her face she possibly could with a whole spectrum of emotion. Joy, wonder, tentative hope she was afraid might vanish in a wisp of smoke, and anger. Yes, anger. She was mad at her company (for taking such an idiotic agreement), mad at “the gods” (which still sounded so weird) for bringing her here, and most of all, mad at herself.

Brandy had spent countless nights after the funeral wishing, begging, crying out for just one more chance to see her friend, for a cure, to turn back time, maybe things could be different. Months spent wondering how things could have been, with every new venture punctuated by the heartache that there was somebody missing who she couldn’t share it with.

But now she could.

Melia was here, she was alive, and the tears threatened to flow once again.

But, like some twisted monkey paw wish, Brandy couldn’t really talk to her best friend about the deepest things in her life. She was too afraid to wipe away that blindingly bright smile. Because, contrary to Brandy’s bubbly outward appearance, inside, she was feeling rather grim and bleak.

She was on a literal god-given mission…to kill somebody.

Brandy was not a violent person. She wasn’t somebody prone to fits of anger or lashing out. The most drastic thing she had ever done was knee some jerk in the crotch when he grabbed her wrist after having one too many drinks at a work Christmas party.

That had been a real exclamation point for Brandy, but even when she thought back on that moment with a clear mind, she didn’t know if she could have done anything more extreme even if she wanted to. Say, hypothetically, that she was being robbed and threatened in an alley, but she had a concealed weapon? Specifically, a gun? Brandy didn't think she could shoot somebody, even if her life was on the line.

Maybe she was wrong, and she’d find out soon enough.

​

[Quest: Defeat the Dark Lord]

​

…if Brandy ever got out of here, she was going to pull every one of her studio’s writers into a meeting room and lock them inside until they agreed not to put stupid, overused tropes in any of their games. And if they still thought it was a good idea, she’d beat it out of them.

Maybe her time here was affecting her, if her first thought was to bitch-slap her coworkers into compliance.

“I’m awake,” Brandy called out, schooling her voice into something cheerful. The thought of a busy day, casting spells and hunting monsters was already lifting her mood.

“Great!” Jessica said, not half a second later, barging in. Brandy was sure the girl wasn’t going to wait any longer. “Are you almost ready? We’ve got a full day ahead of us.”

“I’m good to go,” Brandy nodded, smiling down at the girl.

It was still a bit odd, looking down so far at a fully grown woman. Brandy had to resist the urge to pat the girl’s head.

“Good,” Jessica stared up at her. Brandy could tell the [Hunter] felt just as awkward staring up at her, but this partnership was still new and fresh and they were working through things smoothly. “Al’s already picked up today’s quest from the guild. More [Gorblin] hunting and maybe a [Lake Kelp] delivery if we can find some growing in the shallows.”

Brandy nodded passively, but her mind was reeling. The total…mundanity in which Jessica had spouted that sentence felt like a punch to the gut. Not only was this world not a game, but adventuring was a job. And these were professionals.

So that begged the question: what sort of role in this society did adventurers serve?

So many industries relied on the continued success of these handyman-turned-exterminators. And that wasn’t even talking about the jobs created exclusively in partnership with adventurers, like guilds and support staff, tied intrinsically to such whimsical people. A demand existed for crucial goods and services that couldn’t be procured by any other means.

And yet the job itself wasn’t lauded as glorious or desirable. Sure, the top of the top held fame and fortune, but for the rest of the workforce? It was closer to a 9 to 5 than it wasn’t. Perhaps the industry was close to Earth’s original garbage men. They delivered a crucial and necessary service, but were hardly thanked for their efforts.

As if to prove the point, Brandy followed Jessica back to the common room of the inn, where the rest of the party were sitting around a table, inventorying their supplies. Y’cennia was divvying out potions, checking numbers off a physical list, while Alastair and the [Mage] debated on what was important enough to carry on their person and what could be safely stored away. Thorough, disciplined, and diligent. Professional.

“Are you sure you don’t want to take an extra [Major Health Potion]?” the adorable catgirl asked. Brandy had to work hard not to become transfixed by the swishing of her tail.

“No,” Alastair sighed, though he did look somewhat reluctant. “I’ve already got two; having a third won’t do me any good. Especially since it requires level 350. If we were closer to that mark, I might make an exception, but even Ellesea is 4 levels short and with her health pool, a normal [Healing Potion] will do just fine.”

“Why not take it anyway?” Brandy asked. “If it’s in your inventory, it’s not like it’s taking up actual space.”

“That’s a common misconception,” Jessica chimed in. “It might not matter to a normal civilian going about their daily lives, but most classes don’t want to keep their inventory full. Especially not adventurers. Rule of thumb: half-half-half. Keep half your inventory empty at all times, then split the remaining half between essentials and things you just can’t go without.”

“Wouldn’t that simply be another type of essential?” Brandy asked.

“Not necessarily,” Ellesea shook her head. “I don’t practice it myself, but never underestimate the importance of a good luck charm or a sentimental item. It might not do anything by itself, but if it’s important enough to change a fight in your favor, throw it in there.”

Brandy tilted her head back. She could see how that made a certain level of sense. Her original world was full of superstitious people who’d go to any number of lengths to tip the scales in their favor.

…if this world had sports teams, she was certain player inventories would be full of unwashed “lucky socks”.

“Great,” she nodded. “Half essential, half comfort. I get it. Leaving some space empty, especially if you’re about to loot something, makes sense to me, too. But a full half of your inventory? Doesn’t that seem…excessive?”

Alastair, Ellesea, and Jessica all glanced at each other with grim frowns.

“Sometimes, a job goes poorly,” Alastair explained with a grimace. “If an ally falls, you want to bring as much back as you can.”

Brandy’s nod of agreement slowed as that statement sank in.

“Stuff, right?” she asked. “You’re talking about their equipment?”

Jessica shook her head.

“You can’t stick living people in an inventory, but that doesn’t apply to a corpse.”

Brandy felt ill and reflexively put a hand over her stomach. But she recovered quickly, since this was her life for the foreseeable future. Thankfully, it was her job to make sure that particular outcome never came to pass.

“Well, it’s a good thing we’ve got a healer now, isn’t it?” she said brightly. “And a darn good one, too.”

​

Brandy wasn’t joking, and she wasn’t being vain or boastful either. Her new teammates were professional adventurers, but Brandy was a professional healer. Quite literally: her first job out of college was play-testing a MOBA. Her role? Healer. Just like she had been a healer for over a decade in Fantasy Online, and how every time she played an rpg her healer got the best gear and most attention. In multiplayer games? Her friends didn’t even ask; they demanded she take the role.

Brandy was good at what she did.

As opposed to the rest of [Sunrise], who were…passable. Average. Respectable, even. They were the kind of team that would receive a solid 4 stars on Yelp.

But instead of “plumber smelled, butt crack was showing, but got the job done,” they’d be more like…what sort of person would even review an adventurer on fantasy social media?

Brandy looked over her team. They’d just taken down a group of three god-awful, ugly water monsters, and were taking another break. Nobody had any scratches on them, yet they still drank potions at the end, carefully checked their surroundings, and set a watch.

All the while Brandy had been, for lack of a better word, bored.

She had no offensive capabilities (unless the [Gorblins] were secretly undead), so she stood at the back, basically twiddling her thumbs, while the other three systematically destroyed those poor monsters.

It was admirable.

But Brandy wanted more. When she first watched Alastair prepare himself to pull the mob, with buffs and ready checks, part of her expected a flashy showdown. Full-length razor claws, gnashing teeth, blood spurting everywhere as spells went off, skills got used, and arrows flew in a flurry.

What she got was a wet-sounding mrglglrglblrglblbbblb, a dull thud of a monster impacting a shield, another thud as Alastair smashed its skull in, a bright light as another fell over, and two quick arrows sank into the eyes of the last.

Absolutely nothing like how a video game fight goes down.

But after Brandy had thought about it, this style of combat made a lot of sense in real life. No sane person actually wanted to get hurt, let alone put their lives completely in the hands of somebody else.

So that was the first fight, and it was expected. Brandy didn’t think they’d jump to full-throttle straight out of the gate. Start slow, build up your comfort, get into a routine.

The second battle was the same. Alastair located three isolated monsters, waited patiently until there was no chance of pulling extra aggro, and the team dispatched them with little to no damage taken.

Brandy perched on a nearby rock, close enough that she could cast her spells but high enough to give her a vantage point of everything going on. She threw out a few small heals out of reflex, but none of them were actually needed.

If “one” could be considered a warm-up, and “two” could be a fluke, then “three” had to be a pattern. And by the time the group had gone through four, five, and six small groups of monsters? Brandy knew she had to say something. The group seemed content with their progress, but it was slow and inefficient, and Brandy knew they could do better.

Alastair approached the dilapidated hut, leaning precariously over the water on shaky stilts. The legs of one [Gorblin] hung off the platform out of the darkened entrance as it slept, while two more waded deeper into the water, fighting over a fish that got caught in the tangled reeds.

“Ready?” Alastair hissed. Not that the monsters seemed to care about any noise outside of their detection zone, but Brandy figured that might be different for more powerful foes.

Jessica and Ellesea both whispered their replies, and Brandy threw him a thumbs up before realizing he couldn’t see her from way back where she placed herself and coughed out a quick “Yeah.”

Brandy waited until Alastair threw his [Avenger’s Shield], clonking off the closest [Gorblin]’s skull with a loud bong before casting a [Renew] on him as the golden shield ricocheted to the other monsters. The mobs yelled, instantly turning their focus to the tank, and Brandy…waited. Alastair raised his shield, blocked several wild and reckless swipes, but otherwise deflected any damage coming his way. Brandy’s [Renew] hardly needed to recover a point or two of health as it ticked away, mostly unused. But that’s what it was good for: decent healing in small doses over a longer amount of time. She didn’t even need to cast a single [Heal], [Lesser] or otherwise.

Brandy always made sure to keep Alastair clearly in her vision, but she turned her attention to the other members of the group. She had her party status screen open to the side, much like she would have had in the game, their health bars represented by tiny little meters filled with green. Jessica would probably do well in a full-sized party tackling a dungeon; she had good spatial awareness and never got herself caught out. The [Mage] could do with a lot of conditioning. Ellesea was entirely focused on her casting at the beginning of the fight, oblivious to everything else, but in her defense, she always put herself into a position at the start that wouldn’t leave her exposed. And, once her spell was cast, she usually didn’t have much else to worry about. Neither of them took any hits.

The fight only lasted a handful of seconds, half a minute at most. Once all three [Gorblins] were dead on the ground, Alastair relaxed, Jessica started [Looting], and Ellesea adjusted any parts of her robe that got bunched up.

“Alright, good job team,” Alastair encouraged. He took a potion from an amusing strap around his chest and downed it in one go. From the grimace on his face, Brandy could tell it wasn’t the most pleasant drink in the world.

“That went well,” Ellesea agreed, taking a potion of her own. Since they had an [Alchemist], Brandy didn’t really see the need to complain, but if she was going to be a regular part of this team, she had some suggestions. She was just building up her sales pitch as Jessica returned from the corpses, carrying several more crude necklaces.

Brandy had given the girl a quirked eyebrow when she first noticed they were worthless, but Jessica shook her head and shrugged.

“Hey, get enough of them and they sell well.”

Literal vendor trash. Fantastic.

Brandy squared her shoulders and put on her best “this is why my idea is awesomesauce” face reserved for particularly important meetings. She walked casually up to Alastair and Ellesea, who had taken a seat on a large boulder. Even sitting so high up, Brandy was taller than the [Mage].

“Not bad,” Brandy led off her pitch. She didn’t want to sound too condescending, even if she sort of felt like she was babysitting noobs.

“Not bad?” Jessica scoffed. That’s right, she was the contentious one, even if Al was the leader. “What do you mean, not bad?”

The [Hunter] opened her mouth to launch into a tirade, but her brain caught up. Brandy could see the wheels turning as Jessica let her mouth close and reopen several times before eventually frowning.

“Well, I guess if you’re used to being in the [Hero’s Party] or whatever, we might seem pathetic, right?”

Pathetic was a…strong word.

“Wouldn’t go that far,” Brandy said diplomatically. “But I think you could be better.” She paused and quickly corrected herself. “We could be better.”

“Alastair,” she said, turning toward the tank, “You’ve got potential. Let’s be honest, you’re no Hank, you’re not even a Fabre or Darien, but you could get there.”

And Brandy genuinely believed that, too. Nobody started at the top, and 90 percent of the people who made it that far didn’t do so because of talent. It was hard work, learning the ropes, practicing the fundamentals, and years of constant experience.

Alastair wasn’t the flashiest guy around. He wasn’t even a particularly memorable [Paladin]. But he had something a lot of people wanting to be the “next big thing” didn’t: reliability and a hard work ethic. From what little Brandy had seen, she already knew he wouldn’t quit. And he probably wouldn’t let any success go to his head.

He was like one of those old American muscle cars. Not some fancy sports car like a Ferrari or a Lamborghini that could go fast but would be afraid to chip the paint or get it dirty, but one of those old, dinged-up, gas-guzzlers that roared like a caged up beast. Except Brandy’s Prius was both an import and all-electric and didn’t spend most of its time down in the shop getting worked on. She’d never even ridden in a classic older than 2085.

…now that Brandy thought about it, maybe that wasn’t the best analogy.

She was getting sidetracked. Focus.

The point was, if she had the measure of Alastair’s character, he might be willing to listen to what she had to say, and more importantly, he didn’t have the ego that would prevent him from putting it into action. He didn’t seem like the kind of guy who wouldn’t listen to her just because she was a woman and a healer.

…Brandy glanced around at the other members of the nearly-exclusively female team.

Best not to think about it.

Alastair took a deep breath, clearly steadying himself. Brandy appreciated the gesture; she knew many hotheaded people who could benefit from anger management.

“It is as you say,” he said humbly. “Thank you for the compliment.”

“Now, I don’t want to…how can I say this nicely? I don’t want to step on anybody’s toes, but you all need to stop holding back.”

“What are you talking about?” Jessica asked. “This is what we always do. Before you got here, we were a group of three. With basic armor. Anything more than this would be crazy.”

“I’m not saying you should be reckless,” Brandy sighed, “But if you actually want to advance, grow to the point of taking on bigger and better dungeons, becoming a party on par with some of the more established companies, you’re going to need to level. We all want to level; I want to, you want to, everybody wants to…we’ve all got our reasons. But the best way to do that? Take on bigger groups. At least that’s a start.”

“You know, Melia said the same thing,” Ellesea said.

“Despite how she looks,” Brandy smiled, “Melia is a smart girl. You should trust her.”

“She also told us to jump into every fight we came across, no matter how big. She told us not to worry, she’d take care of ‘the rest’.”

“I take it back,” Brandy groaned. “Don’t listen to Melia. She’s an idiot.”

“It did work,” Alastair said fairly. “We gained so many levels last time we went out.”

That was good. If her new team was willing to branch out, they could go places. Brandy wasn’t sure if these folks were fit to join her in taking on the Dark Lord, and now that she was getting to know them better, she wasn’t sure she wanted to put them in harm's way like that. But that was a thought for later, as was sharing her quest. If the [Paladin] found out she was talking to his deity on the regular, he might flip his wig. She supposed it was only a matter of time, but hopefully, when she had her reveal, they’d know each other well enough that he’d understand she was a normal person, just like them.

“Again, I'm not trying to take anybody’s job or anything, but we can be more. Do more. I’m in a better position to see the entire battlefield, trust me when I say we can handle it.”

“Why?” Jessica snarked. “Because you’re taller?”

“Honestly?” Brandy shot right back. “Yes. You think Ellesea sees as much as I do when she’s casting from behind Alastair’s back? It’s a credit to your teamwork that nobody’s been seriously hurt. But more than my height, I’m focusing on a different fight than you. Jessica, you have to aim a bow. Ellesea needs to keep her target in line of sight. Alastair would be a fool if he took his eyes off things that were trying to kill him. Me? I have the luxury to take in the entire battlefield. I can watch for things trying to outmaneuver you. I can see environmental hazards. I’m not saying you shouldn’t be aware of your surroundings. What I’m saying is everybody has their own job. Focus on yours. And let me do mine. I’m good at what I do.”

Jessica opened her mouth to complain, but staring up at the tall form of what was probably the most famous high elf in history stopped her in her tracks. Her mouth slowly closed. She wasn’t famous for her race.

“Fine,” Jessica relented. “Let’s give it a shot. If we die, I’m haunting your ass.”

​

---

[Sunrise] squared up to take on the next set of mobs. At five [Gorblins], normally, they’d give the pack a wide berth. Alastair muttered a quick prayer to Celestara…and threw his [Shield]. He tossed a [Consecration] at his feet and hoped it would be enough. He was confident in fending off three. With five, he was shaken.

The monsters came, snarling and yelling their incomprehensible gibberish, headed straight for him. He raised his arm and brought his hammer down. One disoriented, if not destroyed. Another took a face full of shield. The other three got around. One raked at his back, one chomped down hard onto his right forearm, and the last slashed repeatedly at the arm holding his shield.

He grit his teeth, expecting the pain, but it was never enough to prepare him fully. At most, it would blunt it temporarily until the adrenaline wore off. Hot, sticky blood bloomed from his back, staining his tabard, and he could feel the razor-sharp teeth grating against his bones.

Suddenly, there was relief. He’d experienced healing before, both from others and his own. But never during the middle of actual combat. In the corner of his eye, his status showed a tiny green bar moving steadily back to full. He could feel the deep lacerations in his shoulder weaving closed, the muscles in his arm knitting back together. Though the stains would remain, his back was dry with fresh, clean skin.

If he were a lesser man, he would stop, raise his hands to the sky, and praise Celestara.

…if he were a blasphemous man, he might turn around and praise the [Saint].

But he had a job to do, and now he understood exactly how valuable a battle-healer truly was. Given enough time and familiarity, he felt like he really could do this all day. He felt invincible.

In what seemed like the blink of an eye, all five [Gorblins] were dead. Alastair surveyed the rest of his team with a critical eye. Not a single one of them had a scratch. Jessica had already moved on to [Looting] the nearest corpse, and Ellesea had her eyes closed, focused on cycling her mana. He caught the eyes of the [Saint], glowing and sparkling with mystical light.

“Not bad,” she said in her musical voice. “Not bad at all. Let’s do it again, from the top.”

Yes, Alastair thought, perhaps this was for the best.

​

The group spent several more hours out hunting [Gorblins] than they originally planned. Under Eluna’s guidance, they reduced the cooldown between encounters, took on what they would have previously considered riskier groups, and leveled at what felt like a breakneck pace. Unlike their previous outing, when Meliastraza watched over them, this felt truly earned.

Occasionally, Eluna would shout out for one of them to move here or retreat there, but never in such a way that was confusing, counterproductive, or hard to understand. It never got in the way of what they were doing, almost like she could predict the future or had a plan in advance. And each time she did, when the team obeyed, they found themselves better for it.

Better positioned to take an extra hit so somebody else didn’t have to, or else take out a monster before it got a chance to strike in the first place. After a dozen or so encounters, Alastair no longer felt any apprehension about taking on the added monsters, and he wondered if, in the future, he’d end up trusting himself to take on even more. Trusting his team. He thought of legendary tanks, how in stories they might be surrounded by enemies, swarming over them like gnats, and yet they might laugh, and shrug them off like a light winter coat.

In due time, perhaps. For now, his team was learning and growing. Suddenly, entering the [Obsidian Mansion] didn’t seem like an impossibility or a far-off dream. It was only a matter of time.

​

The sun was setting when they returned to their inn at Lakeridge. With the levels they gained, nobody felt like they would fall too far behind Y’cennia, no matter how hard she worked today. In fact, with Eluna’s spot solidified as healer of [Sunrise], Al felt confident in having their [Alchemist] shift focus to mana potions instead.

As if summoned by those thoughts, the catkin came rushing up to them the moment they entered the lobby, as if waiting for their return. Alastair narrowed his eyes. Usually, Y’cennia had to be pulled away from her work; she got so engrossed. His eyes were drawn to her hands; they were clutching an envelope…and they were shaking.

“Oh, Al, thank the gods,” she sounded both anxious and relieved, now that they were there. “We’ve received an urgent letter. The abbey calls for aid!”

Jessica reacted faster than anyone else. She quickly snatched the letter out of Y’cennia’s hands, her eyes blurring as they blazed over the writing. Eventually, her shoulders slumped, and she let out a sigh of relief.

“Cennie, you’re overreacting. There's no way the headmaster from the Academy showed up looking for Melia. And even if he did, what's the worst that could happen?”