(Re)birth

It's not every day you get to experience being born. Most people don't even remember it, being that humans go through it before their brains have fully developed.

However,

Character Creation Complete.

Class: Night Witch.

Faction: Fae Alliance.

Race: Pixie.

Pixies are born fully grown, when the twilight daisies bloom.

I could feel the warm, velvety embrace of the petals swaddling me. I really didn't want to leave, but—

"Blaaagh..." the flower (my new mother, apparently) peeled its petals back and birthed me out of my cozy little nook of warmth and solitude—straight onto the floor. 

Ugh. 

Of course I was eager to go out and start my adventures, but couldn't I have stayed in just a little longer? I finally felt like I was catching up on some much needed rest... 

Alas, all I could do was open my eyes and embrace the new world. 

I found myself in a glob of golden slime (which I really hoped was nectar) before a pair of neatly pedicured hooves. I didn't bother looking up since I knew who it was, and knew he was about to give the same introduction I'd already heard a thousand times. "Welcome, dear adventurer, to Faunhaven: the starting zone for all races of the Fae Alliance. Allow me to introduce myself as Puca, you're humble, cloven-hooved guide."

"Hi Puca," I muttered. 

He continued with his intro as I began absentmindedly blowing bubbles in my own afterbirth (which tasted remarkably like honey berries), resigned to the fact that I was no longer snuggled into the sweet, nurturing petals of my floral mother. "Among the races of the illustrious Fae Alliance, you have been born a Pixie, the tiniest yet craftiest in all of Yyr! Here, you will find yourself allied with the Behemoths, who manage to be all brawn while nonetheless maintaining most of their brain; the Satyr's (such as yours truly), with our affinity for flutes, lyres and all things juicy and sweet; and the Dryads, with their untamed charm that none dare hope to resist.

"Since the beginning of the Third Terrible War, which continues until this very day, this diverse array of Fae races has set aside their differences to forge an alliance, all for the sake of protecting themselves against the other factions fighting this Terrible War: the savage Human Pact and the haughty Elven Bond. "

"Cool," I responded, wondering if there was any way I could skip through this. As I mentioned, I've already heard all of this before, many times. Although this may have been my first time physically being in this world, I'm very familiar with it. It was, after all, my favorite MMO. 

And most likely the death of me.

I couldn't tell you exactly how long I was budding within that twilight daisy, but it was long enough for me to realize where I was. It really wasn't hard to figure out, being that I could hear Puca give this introduction over and over again as each new Pixie blossomed from the bed of twilight daisies. So I had plenty of time to evaluate and accept my situation. In the end, I found the prospect rather exciting. I mean, this is the dream, right? Getting transmigrated into your favorite MMO? 

"Before we move on to selecting your Kraft, dear hero, would you like to hear more about the other factions we're at war with?" asked Puca. 

"No thanks," I answered. I'll give you the quick and easy version: all the characters of the other factions were BORING, trust me. It was really hard to find the desire to play any of them. Sure, some of them had pretty enticing abilities, but they all looked so bland. Among the Human Pact, for example, you basically have four variations of the same thing: the Meadow Folk, Island Folk, Dessert Folk and the Nobility. Honestly, do any of those sound more compelling than a Pixie or a Behemoth? 

The situation with the Elves was just as bad: Forest Elves, Marsh Elves, Mountain Elves and Crystal Elves. Okay, to be fair, the latter were pretty cool with their luminous eyes and shimmering skin, but they were the haughtiest of the "haughty Elven Pact" and basically the Elven equivalent to the Human Nobility: they dwelled within their grand, underground crystal palaces and deemed themselves the unofficial leaders of their faction. They'd even earned the nickname Palace Elves—though they were the only ones who saw it as a complement.

The Fae, on the other hand, didn't even have cities. Well, the forests they dwelled in were kind of like a giant, sprawling cities, but there were certainly no palaces, and none of them were trying to boss the other races around. That's why I felt at home with this faction. There was a genuine, easy-going vibe here, which is exactly what I needed for a second chance at life.

"The time has come to select your Kraft, dear hero," said Puca. 

Here we go... This was the whole reason I became so obsessed with this game. 

I finally got to my feet, shivering as I broke through the membrane of my birthing goo. The air was crisp, like it was early-autumn, and I was completely naked, unless you count the residual nectar I was still dripping with. Even though pixies don't have much to look at compared to a naked human woman, it was probably a good idea to cover myself. We basically have the body of a human child, despite being "fully developed" when we're born. Still, I wasn't about to go adventuring in this state, you never know what kind of perverts might be lurking around.

"Be sure to take your time and choose wisely," continued Puca, "for your chosen Kraft is as important to your success in this world as your own class. Among the 11 Krafts available are—"

"Doll Maker," I selected, without a second thought. The sooner we get this done, the sooner I can put on some clothes! Anyway, there was zero need to consider any other options—this was the entire reason I got into this game in the first place. This game that turned out to be literal death of me.

You know what? Why don't we just get this out of the way; let me back up a bit and tell you how I got here.

I promise to keep it brief, since the world I came from really wasn't all that interesting. Anyway, it was a day like any other... at least in the days since I'd downloaded this beautifully fatal game....

***

Beep. Beep. Beep.

"Minori."

Beep. Beep. Beep.

"Minori..."

Beep. Beep. Beep.

"Minori!"

"Coming!" I shouted, jolting upright and scrambling around my desk in search of my glasses. I was essentially blind without them. I felt them by my keyboard, brushed my bangs out of the way, then put them on. 

The first thing I saw was my withered corpse lying in a meadow.

"Not again!" I groaned. I was still logged into Witch Kraft. I must have fallen asleep before I could make it to an inn, and my sun-adverse character perished with the arrival of dawn. How many times in a row had I let that happen now? I'd lost count. 

It was crucial to log off in an inn so your character could become Well Rested, a state which came with various perks and buffs. Ironic, I know, being so concerned with my digital character's well being while completely neglecting my own. 

"Minori, you have 10 seconds before I feed your sausage to the cat!" chimed my mother from the kitchen below.

Does she have to be so sing-songy with her threats?

"10... 9... 8..."

"I said I'm coming!" I cried out in desperation. I love my cat, but I love sausage just as much. I turned off my computer monitor and swiftly changed into my uniform, falling only twice as I struggled to find my balance. 

I really should actually sleep one of these nights... maybe I should just take a sick day? There was no chance of that, it would ruin my perfect attendance. I just needed to find a way to somehow sleep better in that 30 minute timeframe between collapsing onto my keyboard and my mother shouting at me to get up.

She was frowning as I came down the steps. Luckily, it didn't seem to have anything to do with me this time. Her phone was making that horrid sound it only made during certain emergencies. I'm just happy that's got her attention so she doesn't look up at my face—she's been giving me such grief about the bags under my eyes lately.

"There's been an earthquake, which means—"

"Tsunami risk," I say as I chomp down on a Tako sausage, cut in the shape of an octopus. Mmm those were always favorite, ever since I was little. "Don't worry mom, we get those all the time."

It was true, the alerts always turned out to be a nothingburger. Although earthquakes here weren't uncommon, we were far enough from the coast, and at a high enough elevation that we didn't have to worry about tsunamis.

I looked up at the clock and felt my heart skip a beat. "Go'a go!" I mumbled, with most of my sausage still clenched between my teeth. I threw on my shoes, flung open the door and jumped on my bike.

I gave my octopus-shaped sausage the pelican treatment, then set off for school in standing-peddle-mode. 

It was an academic high school, of course. Not only am I an overachiever, but my father would have committed seppoku if I'd got accepted into anything less. Okay, maybe that was an exaggeration, but only just a bit. Let's just say my father didn't care for fun and games, which is why I could only play Witch Kraft late at night, while he was asleep. 

He had a habit of bursting into my room unannounced—doing that excruciatingly annoying thing parents do when they would knock on the door as they opened it—in order to "check in" on me. And heaven forbid if my nose wasn't buried in a text book, and my hand not busy with a notepad. So yeah, missing school and being late were simply out of the question.

On that day, however, I remembered a vivid feeling that something was off. It wasn't just due to sleep deprivation, either. Sure enough, as soon as I thought that, I turned and saw the last thing someone on a bike wants to see. There was no horn beeping, and nobody else to warn me about the car speeding through the red light. 

By the time I saw it, it was already too late.