Chapter 3: World Ho!

From the kitchen, their mother’s voice rang out.

“Don’t spend too long.”

“I won’t,” Tayo called back.

The door creaked softly as Tayo stepped into his room. The air was dry and faintly musty. Dust floated lazily in the light spilling through the half-open blinds, settling like a fine coat of silence over everything.

Immediately he opened his windows fully, letting the fresh air in.

The room was as he had left it—precise, intentional. His bed remained neatly made, corners tucked, not a crease out of place, an old habit passed down from his father. Shelves stood lined with books, organized by subject, from the mundane to the esoteric: quality assurance testing, programming, network security, AI, biographies of historical figures and tech pioneers. A few spines were worn, soft from rereading. He stepped to the bookshelf, near the window where the sunlight caught the edges of the pages. He pulled one open, then another—this one was more like a diary or journal than a book. The scent of old paper brought a quiet tide of memories with it.

He closed the books gently and moved to the desk. It was minimal, sleek—black metal and clean lines. He ran a finger along the surface and came away with a smudge of dust.

“Guess I’ve been gone a while.”

To the left of the desk, resting against the wall, was his talking drum—handcrafted, polished, still gleaming under the film of dust. Just beside it, his electronic drum set waited in silence, drumsticks clipped neatly to the rack, headphones draped across the seat.

In the corner by the floor, his game console sat where he’d last left it, powered down, cables neatly coiled.

He pulled open the top drawer of his desk. Inside were neatly stacked hard drives, notebooks, tools, and—a small photo album. His fingers hovered over it for a moment. Then he closed the drawer.

The box from Aramide sat at the foot of the bed. He crouched and pulled the lid open. Inside, the Epic Realms headgear sat, its metallic casing catching a glint of light. He held it in his hands for a moment, examining it, it looked even better than what was advertised on TV.

He began fitting the device over his head when his phone buzzed beside him. The name flashed on the screen—Mr. Spencer, Tayo answered.

Tayo pressed the phone to his ear and dropped the headgear on his lap.

“Are you logging in now?” came Mr. Spencer’s voice, calm and measured.

“I’ll be in, in about a minute,” Tayo replied, glancing toward the blinking indicator on the headset. “Wait, sir.”

The space felt more like a hospital than a bedroom. Sterile white walls, humming machines, the faint antiseptic tang in the air. The curtains were pulled back, allowing in the afternoon light which fell across the small figure lying motionless in the bed.

Guy—just eleven years old—lay flat beneath a soft gray blanket, his body thin and still, his limbs are almost like sticks beneath the covers. His eyes, though, were wide open. Alert. Waiting.

Beside him sat his father, Mr. Spencer, straight-backed and composed in a chair that showed he had spent many nights beside this bed. Two nurses stood nearby, waiting.

Tayo’s voice came through softly from the phone resting in Mr. Spencer’s hand.

“Are you sure you want to go through with this? We still don’t know the effects—”

Mr. Spencer’s gaze didn’t leave his son’s face as he answered, low and firm. “Tayo, it will be fine. You just have to find him a guide. That’s all.”

There was a pause on the other end of the call.

“I’m not worried about myself, sir. I’m worried about him.”

Mr. Spencer exhaled slowly and gave the smallest nod, though Tayo couldn’t see it.

“It’ll be fine, Tayo. Thank you for doing this.”

He ended the call and set the phone down on the side table, his expression unreadable. He gave the nurses a nod.

One of them stepped forward, lifting a sleek, metallic headgear—identical to the one Tayo had examined moments ago. She began fitting it gently over Guy’s head, the other nurse steadying the boy’s small frame. They worked with practiced coordination, careful not to disturb the fragile tubing or the monitors that blinked softly behind the bed.

Guy turned his head slightly and spoke.

“Thanks, Dad.”

Mr. Spencer leaned forward, taking his son’s thin, fragile hand into both of his own. He pressed a kiss to the back of it.

“Anything for my son.”

The gear is now fitted into place on Guy’s head, and the lights on its surface flickered to life.

Back at Tayo’s room, the headset now fitted snugly against Tayo’s temples too. The soft hum of the device pulsed faintly, and with one hand, he reached up and pressed the button at the center of the band resting on his forehead. It clicked.

A gentle vibration ran through him, like a ripple across still water. His eyes fluttered shut.

Then opened.

He was no longer seated in his room. Before him stretched a breathtaking expanse of cosmic light and color. Stars shimmered like diamonds scattered across an endless void. Though it looked like the vacuum of space, the sound here was pure, the kind that made the universe feel ancient and infinite.

Then, as if drawn forward by unseen hands, the stars began to shift. The view tilted, folded in on itself, and reformed.

The hum of the cosmos faded, replaced by the rustling of tall grass and the soft whisper of wind across a sun-soaked field. A sky so blue it felt unreal, dotted with feathery clouds. Birds chirped in the distance, and the land around glowed with the richness of a perfect picture, green hills rolling far into the horizon, like Bliss.

Tayo lay in the grass, the warmth of the sun on his face. Beside him, Guy rested too, both of them clad in glinting Roman-style armor. The weight of swords rested at their sides, and for a long, quiet moment, all felt peaceful.

The real world was far away now.

They had entered the Epic Realms.

Tayo raised himself up from the grass and brushed loose blades from his armor. A small pouch sat at his hip—he unfastened it and peeked inside, it’s filled with gold coins. He rolled his shoulders, stretched out his arms, then bent slightly to test the ease of movement in his legs. Everything felt responsive, smooth.

Guy was still lying flat on the grass beside him, his fingers sifting gently through it like he was savoring the sensation of touch. He breathed in deeply, again and again, as though trying to store the fresh air in his lungs forever. His eyes were closed, a peaceful smile on his face.

Tayo squatted next to him. “Need help?” he asked gently.

Guy opened his eyes and shook his head, determination stirring behind them.

He lifted his hands—slowly at first, as if unsure they would obey. Then, he flexed his fingers. His arms followed, stretching outward, and then his legs began to move, unsteady but alive. Then with conscious effort, he pushed himself upright, swaying for a moment before finding his balance.

He stood. For the first time in years, he stood.

Tayo said nothing, he just watched with pride as Guy raised his arms and clenched his fists. Guy closed his eyes and felt the breeze hit his face. His lips trembled, and tears filled his eyes—not from pain, but from joy. He opened them again and took a tentative step.

He stumbled. Tayo was quick, catching him by the arm, but Guy gently pulled away.

“I can do it,” he said softly.

He tried again. One step. Then two. Then three.

And a moment later—he was running.

Laughing. Crying. Jumping. His joy echoed across the open field as he moved like a bird discovering flight. Tayo watched with a grin wide across his face, a warmth swelled in his chest.

Guy ran back toward him, throwing his arms around Tayo in a tight hug.

“Thank you so much, Tayo.”

Tayo patted his back. “Call me Ray in here,” he said. “It’s my gamer tag.”

Guy pulled back, eyes sparkling. “Can I choose my name too?”

“Uh… yeah?”

“Great! Call me… call me—”

“First,” Tayo cut in, gesturing to his neck, “open your dashboard. Tap the side of your neck.”

Guy reached for the right side instinctively, but Tayo corrected him. “Other side. Here.” He reached over and tapped a faint tattoo on the left side of Guy’s neck.

A small jolt of light surged through Guy’s body. He winced slightly, blinking as his form flickered for a moment—becoming translucent—then it returned to normal. Then, a holographic interface blinked into existence before him, floating mid-air.

“You okay?” Tayo asked.

Guy nodded and replied. “Yeah. I’m… fine.” Even though he wasn’t too sure about that.

He stared at the interface before him. The stats glowed on it—physical dexterity, strength, speed—alongside boxes labeled Username, Level, and Class. Curious, he reached out to touch the name field. The board shimmered at his touch, but no edit option appeared.

“How do I change it?” Guy asked.

Tayo hesitated. “Uh… you can’t.”

Guy frowned. “But you said I could!”

“Not through the board,” Tayo said. “To do that, you’d have to logout. And I’d have to come back and reset the whole setup. It’s a long process. Honestly… I’m not even supposed to be doing this.”

The disappointment on Guy’s face deepened.

Tayo glanced at the board. “But hey,” he added, pointing at the Class box. “Your dad didn’t hold back.”

Guy followed his finger. WARRIOR CLASS.

“What does that mean?” he asked.

Tayo grinned. “It means he didn’t want you limited in here. The other class caps your level at 20. This one? It lets you use magic.”

Guy’s jaw dropped. “Magic? I’ll be able to use magic?!”

“Yep.”

“Can you show me how?”

Tayo shook his head. “Can’t. Neither of us can—not yet. We’ve gotta hit level 25 first.”

Guy’s excitement dimmed a little, but the glow in his eyes remained. Tayo began walking toward the path leading to the distant village of Tomwell.

“Come on,” he called back. “Let’s get some horses.”

Guy followed, bouncing along the way.