Raxanov Elendrian opened his eyes to the cool dark embrace of his throne room. The curtains of the room were always down but there had always been enough light. Slight grogginess weighed down his eyes.
"Strange." He muttered.
"Is there an update that I am unaware of."
As soon as he spoke those words, a figure moved by his side—below the dais of his throne.
"Master." The creature uttered, their voice cold and exuding power accrued with age.
'What the hell?!' Raxanov screamed internally, and he practically froze. He knew this creature, knew him too well to be mistaken, he and his guild mates had created it after all.
He swallowed. It wasn't the bony appearance of his butler that alarmed him so, as it had always been bony, in fact, his butler was a skeleton mage versed in faith magic. It was that it could speak and with such potent realism that shook Raxanov's core. NPCs never spoke, they simply gave programmed information by the means of hovering texts.
"Mager, you are… you are well." Raxanov forced the words out of his mouth.
'This is insane.'
"And so are you my lord." The polishedly dressed skeleton bowed even further to the Archmage's compliment.
'That's new.'
He simply nodded. "Interface." He called out hoping to check if he had updated Dios with no recollection, and when.
No options came up.
"Huh?!" He blurted.
"What is the matter my lord?" Mager asked with concern, leaning forward and ready to bounce into action.
"Oh nothing, nothing Mager, just certain surprises."
"I know what you mean my lord."
"You do?"
"It feels like I have been asleep for a long time, and we undead skeletons do not sleep. There are also changes in the throne room from what I remember."
"Yes, yes." Raxanov had expected more important observations, but nonetheless, he was slightly relieved that he wasn't the only one who had noticed the changes.
"Interface." He called out yet again, and nothing showed up.
"Hmmm, a bug? I suppose that comes with updates." He paused, cupping his chin in rumination.
"No, this cannot be." Mager could see the distress in the master's face.
Raxanov pinched his cheeks, and he felt the sensation over his fingers. He could sense his breathing, could feel his pumping heart. No, this went beyond impressive graphics and animation.
He pulled from his face his long blonde hair, and took a sniff of it.
'Dust and greenery.' He could smell. The game should not be able to imitate such levels of sensations regardless of what impressive updates, and there was the issue of not being able to conjure the Interface.
He sat up, his regal robes telling of his arcane inclination and class was dusty, and so was the throne room and Mager.
Dios was a massive multi-player role-playing online game, the very best of its kind. No game had ever crafted as much lore, game mechanics and characters as the game had, and Mark had fallen in love with it. So much so that he was the top player, and the leader of the game's most powerful guild. However, all that love and memories would eventually get siphoned away as his friends and guild mates left one by one until it was just him. They had reached the pinnacle, completed every possible quest, and even defeated the demon lord. There was nothing more to play for, and so they left.
Mark did not fault them, especially since news of the games servers going down flew. The game had made its bank, and there weren't any significant influx of new players to keep the servers running, and they did the most logical thing: shutting it down.
He recalled sleeping with his VR headset, waiting to be forcefully logged out when the game went offline, but instead, he got this.
He stared at his wheat colored skin, his soft hands, and felt his lean face. He was in Dios alright, in his castle where he had hoped to wait out his last moments in the game.
He looked around his throne room, and saw webs, dust and dirt masking the beauty and grace the room held.
"Where are the others?" He asked Mager, and by others he meant other NPCs that he had put in place in the castle. If Mager was around, the others ought to be as well.
"I do not know my lord."
"What do you mean you do not know?!" His voice had come out colder and louder than he had expected. He had to remind himself that Raxanov was—according to the background he wrote for the character—thousands of years old, dedicating his life to studying the arcane, and with it came his dejection and arrogance.
"I cannot sense them."
"What?!" Mager shrank, looking downwards, not daring to look at his master's cold face.
"It is as I said my lord. I cannot sense them, they are gone."
He had his hands on his chin, thinking again.
"Look around, search for anybody, anyone at all and bring them to me."
"Yes master." The mage sprang into action on the words of its master.
"This cannot be. If I cannot log out, then am I not essentially trapped? No!"
Although Mark wasn't impressive by any means, he still had a number of friends and family, work colleagues, and a life outside the MMORPG Dios, what would they do once they realized he was gone? Another disturbing thought sprang into his mind at that moment.
"What if my body is still back home? Am I dreaming? Surely, this cannot be real."
He had had multiple dreams of the game, he had loved it that much.
He had heard sayings that causing one a great deal of pain in one's dreams could send the person awake, and seeing as he had no other choice, he decided, It was time to test that hypothesis, he was not intending on staying in this world, it was way past overtime.
He balled his fist, and streamed mana from his core, amplifying the might of his fist. The short process felt surreal, usually he would tap a button to boost his stats, and it was always to the entirety of his body, not merely restricted to a particular part.
He paused for a second, amazed at what he had just done. It had been so seamless too. Then, he steeled himself, and punched