The wind howled through the Goblin Steppes, sweeping over the rolling plains where Stick, PP, and Nakamura trudged forward. The farther they traveled, the more signs of the old world fell away—what few remnants of civilization remained were buried under the December snow and the ever-growing goblin population.

  Stick, feeling the need to break the silence, decided to address something that had been bugging him since they left the grave behind.

  “Nakamura.”

  Nakamura visibly flinched. “What is it now?”

  “What’s your name? Nakamura is your surname, isn’t it?” Stick asked. “I figured I should start calling you by your first name.”

  Nakamura’s expression darkened as he kicked a loose stone out of his path. “You’re an idiot.”

  Stick flinched. “What? Why?”

  Nakamura sighed. “Just read my Status.”

  Stick’s cheeks flushed red. I am an idiot.

  “Yes, of course,” he muttered, trying to come up with a believable explanation for forgetting something so obvious. “It’s just that I feel like breaching your privacy if I don’t ask you first. Also, PP should know too, you know.”

  Hey, that sounded halfway smart!

  Nakamura exhaled through his nose and rubbed his temple. “I guess you have a point. Fine, you can read it.”

  “Thank you!” Stick exclaimed.

  He checked Nakamura’s Status.

  Nakamura was [LVL 25], a [Weapons Master] in the [Duelist] class, affiliated with Carnifex. Stick got distracted by the rather evenly distributed stats:

  Strength: 29

  Intelligence: 19

  Regeneration: 23

  Armor: 25

  Resistance: 26

  Constitution: 29

  Then Stick’s eyes wandered to the top of the white window, where he finally read the full name. He couldn’t believe his eyes.

  “Hirohiro Nakamura?” he asked, scandalized. “That name exists?”

  “Yes. What about it?” Nakamura replied.

  “No, no, no. That can’t be,” Stick said.

  “There was a misprint on my birth certificate. It’s supposed to be Hirohiko,” Nakamura explained.

  “That’s not it.” Stick mumbled. “It’s just… if I knew that such a first name existed, then it would have been perfect for me.”

  “I see…” Nakamura said with a sly grin. “What if you called me Hiro?”

  Stick felt his heart pound. “No, no, no. We will not do that. If anyone’s a ‘hero’ in this group, then it’s me, understand?”

  “Of course.” Nakamura smiled—the first time since they left the capital. “But since I’m not really with Carnifex anymore, and we’re on a first-name basis now, there’s no point in calling me by my surname, right? Hirohiro works for me.”

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  PP chuckled. “Hirohiro is a nice name.”

  Nakamura gave PP an appreciative nod. “Thank you.”

  Stick ran to the front of the group and flailed his arms. “No, that’s not gonna happen! It’s unfair!”

  “My name is unfair?” Nakamura mused.

  Stick crossed his arms, refusing to dignify that with an answer.

  “Relax, I’m just messing with you,” Nakamura said. “What kind of name is Stick, anyway?”

  Stick felt warm in his cheeks again. “It’s, uh… symbolic.”

  “Symbolic,” Nakamura repeated, tilting his head. “And Arslan?”

  Stick averted his eyes. “Because of the Great Hero, you know?”

  “You want to be called a hero that bad, huh?” Nakamura scoffed.

  Before Stick could answer, PP cleared his throat. The boys turned to look at him.

  “Speaking of names,” he started, “what about mine?”

  “Well, what about it?” Nakamura asked.

  “The Baron gave it to me when he was a little boy. It’s childish. It’s callous. It was meant to degrade me.” His voice was calm, but there was weight behind the words. “I don’t want it.”

  Stick bit the inside of his cheek. And here I am complaining…

  “I’d be fine with whatever as long as it’s something else,” PP said. “But I need your help. I don’t have any ideas.”

  “Of course not. You’re an NPC,” Nakamura said.

  Instinctively, Stick punched Nakamura in the arm.

  “What the hell?”

  “Stop calling him that!” Stick demanded.

  Nakamura groaned. “Fine. Whatever.”

  Stick understood Nakamura’s point. PP couldn’t just change his name in the system. From what Stick had gathered so far about the game, names could only be given once. It’s not like NPCs were able to change their names at will. That was something players did. It’s something the players do.

  But that didn’t mean PP had no right to choose his own name.

  “So, what should we call you?”

  PP scratched his chin, making his shackles jingle. “I don’t know.”

  “Figures,” Nakamura muttered.

  Stick elbowed him. Nakamura grunted.

  “Any specific name you’ve heard that you liked?” Stick asked.

  PP shook his head. “Not really.”

  Stick scanned him from head to toe. If PP didn’t have any preferences, then maybe they could go with something based on his appearance. His unusual mix of blond hair and dark skin stood out—but Stick struggled to make that into something meaningful.

  “Then how about Big Man for the time being?” Stick proposed. “Since you’re the biggest man I know. I mean, you’re enormous.”

  PP looked at him with wide eyes. “So you’re the Stick Man, and I’m the Big Man?”

  “Are you for real?” Nakamura asked.

  “Er, well…”

  Okay, I clearly didn’t think this through.

  But PP didn’t seem to mind. His mouth curled into a smile—then laughter. He laughed so hard he gasped for air at one point. Stick shifted uncomfortably in the snow, unsure if this was a good sign or not. Finally, PP wiped a tear from his eye, his laughter subsiding.

  “Yes. Big Man. This could work.” He nodded, then continued forward. “For now.”

  Nakamura sighed. “If he’s happy with it…”

  “I think so,” Stick said, watching Big Man widen the distance between them.

  He checked Big Man’s Status. He was still listed as [Prized Possession]. It doesn’t look like something we can change at will either…

  Big Man chuckled as they continued their march, moving deeper into the steppes where goblins began to appear more frequently. At first, Stick was eager to fight, gripping the hilt of his Bronze Sword tightly—but a quick glance at the status windows floating above the goblins’ heads made it clear that was a terrible idea.

  [Goblin Shaman - LVL 6]

  [Commander Goblin - LVL 9]

  [Heavy Bruiser Goblin - LVL 8]

  One by one, Stick was denied the chance to test himself as Nakamura shook his head at every encounter.

  “Not yet. They’ll kill you.”

  It wasn’t until they neared the outskirts of Cavon that the goblin levels started to drop. The towns were eerily empty, their buildings in various states of decay. Stick tried to imagine what this place must have looked like before everything fell apart, but the feeling of being constantly watched unsettled his thoughts. Then, at last, they spotted one on the road between what could have been a shop and a residential house. [Goblin Grunt - LVL 1].

  The goblin stood barely three feet tall, its wiry frame wrapped in tattered rags and bits of stolen leather. Its sickly green skin stretched tight over bony limbs, and its oversized, pointed ears twitched at every sound. Beady yellow eyes flickered with mischievous malice, its jagged-toothed grin splitting a face smeared with dirt and dried blood. In its gnarled hands, the goblin clutched a crude club—a splintered branch, blackened with age and stained with something best not questioned. Tied to its belt with a strip of sinew hung a rusty, chipped dagger. A wooden shield, barely more than a plank with a handle, dangled from its other arm, etched with crude glyphs only another goblin might understand. The little brute shifted on calloused feet, sniffing the air like a rat in search of scraps. LVL 1. It’s just LVL 1.

  Stick clenched his grip on the hilt of his sword, exhaling slowly. His palms felt damp. It was just a goblin, nothing more—but it was his first real fight.

  Nakamura nodded. “Alright. Time for you to actually do something.”

  Stick swallowed, then unsheathed his Bronze Sword, feeling its weight in his grip. “Alright. Let’s do this.”

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