The Party That Won't Share Equipment and the Old Man With a Terrible Name

The door swung open and the full picture hit me at once.Every single nerd. One frame. Like a group photo nobody asked for.

I scanned the room slowly."...Who's that dude?" 

"That's Jeff," Reyn said.

(Narrator: Jeff. Skinny. Noodle arms. A head so round it could double as a basketball, perched on top of a neck that had no business supporting those glasses thick-framed, enormous, the kind of glasses that suggested a man had never once looked up from a screen voluntarily. His username is JapitotDDragon. In-game rank: Chicken, dangerously close to Bull. His hobbies include finishing notoriously difficult games in under an hour and then telling everyone about it for the rest of eternity because he made it into a world record list.Nobody has ever cared. He has never stopped talking about it.)

"Okay, and that one?"

'That's Fred."

(Narrator: Fred. Also known as FredChiken967 in-game. Bull rank. Built like a guy who has never once skipped a meal and is proud of that fact and before anyone comes for us, we are simply describing the man. Good hair. Surprisingly handsome actually, let's be clear, nobody in this light novel is ugly, we don't do that here. Fred's hobbies include eating, gaming, and reading a light novel called Teddy003_Handsome Sucks. That is the full title. That is the entire light novel. We are not elaborating. His greatest gaming achievement is unknown because he forgot it. He is Bull rank and thriving.)

"And that random guy in the corner" "Okay, bro, just stop." Reyn held up a hand. "I hired three people. One's absent. That other guy I don't even know I don't own this café, I just post up here because I don't want to buy extra VR capsules for my house and I'm not going to their homes." 

"Oh." I nodded. "Makes sense.

"A pause."Bro, how did you even hire them?"

Reyn shrugged like this was the most normal thing in the world. "They're my classmates. They wanted money for food, gadgets one of them said he wanted 'real job experience' so he could put it on something. Point is, they'll take anything."

"Sweet potato ice cream, that's actually genius." I looked at him. "You're literally a boss, Reyn."

Reyn straightened slightly. "Obviously. I'm my father's future heir. I'm training."

(Narrator: He said this with complete sincerity. He had hired two gamers to boost his rank in a plushie VR game. He considered this professional development. We move on.) 

"Alright," I said. "So now what?"

"Log in."

"Yeah, okay."

"Is that our new employee, Boss?"The voice came from Jeff's direction and it hit like a foghorn in a library. Deep. Resonant. The voice of a man twice his size emerging from a noodle body and enormous glasses.

I physically stepped back."Nah," Reyn said calmly. "He's my friend."

"Okay, Boss."I stared at Jeff. Then at Reyn. Then back at Jeff.

"His voice is THAT deep?! I thought he was about to take me outside!" I lowered my voice slightly.

 "Also why does this internet café even have VR capsules? That's not normal."

"New arrival," Reyn said. "Owner got hyped about the game, immediately bought ten capsules, set them up in the back. Apparently he's been logging in between shifts."

 "Respect,honestly."

"Log in, Lance."

"Logging in, logging in"

"Fred logging in~!"High-pitched. Cheerful. Like a cartoon mouse with ambitions."

...Logging in."Jeff. Cold. Flat. Two words delivered like a medieval executioner reading a verdict.The loading screen dissolved into white.Then color.

Then everything.I opened my eyes and the First Island stretched out in front of me golden afternoon light cutting through a skyline of market stalls and cobblestone roads and NPCs going about their business like they had places to be. Players moved in clusters, trading and talking in the safe zone where no one could touch you.It was gorgeous. It was alive.It was the exact same world that had killed me with rabbits twelve hours ago, but I chose not to think about that.

"Yo Lance.

"I turned. Reyn materialized beside me in clean, solid starter armor  nothing flashy, nothing powerful, but fitted and functional in the way that said I have done research before entering this situation.

"Yo. That looks clean for a newbie set."

"Did my homework."

Then Fred loaded in.I blinked.FredChiken967 stood there in mid-tier iron spike armor, every single plate enchanted with a regeneration effect so aggressive it practically glowed cycle every five seconds, which on paper sounded modest until you did the math on a sustained fight. Weak armor on paper. Annoying armor in practice. And at his hip, the Mystic Katana. Above mid-tier. Understated. The kind of weapon that didn't announce itself.Cute voice. Terrifying loadout.

Then Jeff.JapitotDDragon stepped forward in full diamond-grade armor  Bull-rank quality, no enchantments, but the raw tier spoke for itself. Over his shoulder: an assault rifle tagged with a fireball bomb enchantment. The kind of enchantment the weapon description apparently described as capable of six-tapping a Dragon-rank player.

I looked at my own character.Armor Bear set. Every stat at minimum. The game had given it to me as a punishment.

"...Hey." 

I raised my hand. "Quick question. Could one of you maybe spare some"

"Nah." Fred's cartoon mouse voice somehow made the rejection sound cheerful. "We carry ranks, dungeon raids, and boss fights. We can trade with you if you've got the Misho Coin for it~!"

"That's the agreement," Reyn confirmed, without looking up.

"SO WHAT IS YOUR ACTUAL JOB HERE?!" My voice echoed across the safe zone. Several NPCs turned to look at me. "You're supposed to HELP US that means I need GEAR and you're telling me I have to TRADE for it with money I don't HAVE?!"

"I'm really... so sorry, brah." Jeff's voice was so deep it practically came from underground. He looked genuinely distressed about it, which somehow made it worse.

"We're saving our Misho Coin," Fred added helpfully. "Also did you know you can sell dropped items? You've been keeping those, right?"Complete silence from my end.

(Narrator: He had dropped everything when the rabbits killed him. Twice. He had nothing. He had the armor he spawned in and the emotional damage. We do not comment further.)

"You heard him," Reyn said."

"I hate all of you." I said it very quietly. "I want that on the record."

"Noted. Now come on Sorcerer's Shop first. We need to find out your magic type."I fell into step behind them, muttering under my breath.

"Oh what are your magic types?" I asked after a second.

Reyn glanced back. "Blaze."

 "Boiling Oil," Fred squeaked.

"Teleport Exchange," Jeff said, from somewhere slightly behind the group, his footsteps completely silent despite his armor.I stared at all of them."...Those are genuinely cool.

"Nobody responded. We kept walking.(Narrator: 3 kilometers across the First Island. 2 minutes, 12 seconds, and 56 milliseconds. They walked past a blacksmith, two dungeon entrances, a suspiciously quiet alleyway, and a street vendor selling something that appeared to be a glowing sandwich. Nobody asked about the sandwich. This was a mistake.)

The Sorcerer's Shop sat at the edge of the market district old stone walls covered in faintly glowing rune carvings, the kind of building that had clearly been rendered with way too much love by whatever developer had built this zone.Inside, behind a counter covered in crystal vials and stacked scrolls, sat an NPC with a beard so long it touched the floor.He looked up at us with the energy of a man who had been waiting for exactly this moment.

"Hello there~!" He spread his arms wide. 

"I am Master Paparoni Malalaloni the Third Decimal of Three! But you may call me Master Paparoni."

(Narrator: Yes. That is his name. I am also suffering. I haven't eaten in seven hours. I'm at home. I'm doing this for free. The author has me chained to a desk and briefly unlocked the restraints so I could write this sentence. Help m just kidding. I'm fine. Probably. Anyway. Paparoni. Moving on.)

"I possess knowledge of every magic type in this world," Master Paparoni continued proudly. "There are four fundamental categories: Solid, Liquid, Plasma, and Gas. The developers believed this was a unique and creative system. We do not question the developers.

"I stepped up to the counter."Okay. What's my magic?"

Master Paparoni studied me. His ancient NPC eyes narrowed. His beard rustled faintly in a wind that did not exist. He raised one withered finger

"You are of the Liquid type. And your specific magic is.."

(Narrator: And we're stopping there.Why? Because the author said cliffhangers are good for reader retention and I have no power here.What is Lance's magic? Is it something cool? Something embarrassing? Something that will define his entire playstyle and competitive identity going forward?...Find out whenever jigo writes the next scene.)