A hybrid race of women and serpents, similar to mermaids but with a snake's tail, emerged from the secret passage.

  The creature crawled across the stone floor. She was almost two meters tall, with dirty black hair. Sharp fangs showed when her mouth opened to greet them. "The druid is right. I'm a najalla, an ally of humans.”

  Ragnar got straight to the point. “I came looking for a group of druids.”

  “I'm sorry, they died fighting the invaders.”

  This statement opened a system screen.

  “It's a shame, but at least they died in combat.”

  The najalla crawled closer to Ragnar, fixed her gaze on Mr. Plissken, and said, “I see you have won the friendship of one of my Imperial Crawlers.”

  “I call him Mr. Plissken.” Ragnar wanted to tell her that the snake did nothing during the battle against the Post-Mortem Legionnaire.

  “What a strange name you have chosen, but in any case, it shows the affection you have for her.”

  “Her?”

  “Yes, she is a female Imperial Crawler. Perhaps you still have much to learn.” She stared at him.

  Ragnar remained silent. A mistake like that could cost him some rare reward. The snake-woman proceeded, “As you can see, my lair has been taken over by evil and rotten creatures.”

  She pointed to the lifeless body of the legionnaire, then continued, “The Post-Mortems and their undead armies are a plague, a legion of tireless minions fueled by nefarious magic and led by the most cruel and terrible necromancers that ever existed.”

  Then she paused, her face deepened in sadness.

  "Then the day I most feared arrived. They found my hiding place, killed my dear giant, and dared to bring him back with necromancy. I witnessed it without being able to do anything. All I did was run and hide in my secret chamber.”

  “It'll be okay, you're safe.” Ragnar tried to calm her down.

  “No, it's not. The world as we know is coming to an end.”

  “Blah blah blah…” Artic muttered without a care, then was startled by the snake-woman’s incriminating gaze.

  She stepped back a little to formally introduce herself to the group.

  “My name is Najaha. I'm one of the last najallas still alive. And as I have always valued the friendship cultivated between us and the druids, I would like to help you on your journey. So allow me to teach you the secret of the snakes.”

  With her hands, she gestured to Ragnar to approach and kneel before her. Meanwhile, the knight and the assassin were speechless at the scene unfolding before their eyes.

  Ragnar knelt as requested, so Najaha touched his forehead with her right hand and uttered a chant in an unknown language.

  You have learned a new skill.

  Ragnar stood up, but Najaha wasn't finished. She bent down and lowered her arm. Mr. Plissken, the friendly snake, crawled over and wrapped herself around the creature’s arm.

  “You've always been one of my favorites. Your druid friend still has a lot to learn. How about accompanying him on his journey?”

  She then stroked the snake's orange head, and placed her on the ground with such tenderness that it made Ragnar rethink the way he treated the snake since he had found her.

  More messages appeared:

  Companion List unlocked.

  A new ally has been added to the Companion List.

  Just to be sure, he opened the Companion List to check what was there:

  Ragnar took a deep breath.

  I just won the lottery by unlocking a feature like this early on. It's like having someone else in the group helping me.

  He then knelt before the snake-woman and said, “I am eternally grateful, Queen of Snakes. I swear to fight for your cause.”

  Najaha took him by the hand and helped him up.

  “Your loyalty is worthy and your respect is admirable. I wish you a safe journey.”

  Niki tried to contain a laugh with the back of her hand.

  Najaha looked at her with contempt and addressed them. “Unfortunately, I must reward you too, for you also saved me from the Post-Mortem.”

  She crawled to the hidden chamber, then returned with two jingling bags.

  “Fifty rubros each. That’s more than enough.”

  “That’s it? What a joke,” Artic grumbled.

  “Quiet…,” Ragnar murmured out of the corner of his mouth.

  All the matters in the den had been settled. It was time to return to the Sanctuary of Lilies and report everything to the Protector. Ragnar was the only one who said goodbye to Najaha before leaving.

  ***

  During the journey back, the three arrived at the hall where Ragnar had first met Mr. Plissken. Remembering that, he opened the Companion Window and voiced a command.

  “Rename Companion ‘Mr. Plissken’ to ‘Lady Plissken.’”

  A sharp tone confirmed the name change.

  “What a terrible name,” Artic said.

  But Ragnar ignored him when something came to mind. “Wait, wait a second. I’ve got an idea.”

  The group stopped immediately.

  “What is it?” asked the assassin.

  Ragnar went to the chamber wall and searched for the small tunnel he had found during their descent into the den.

  “Found it!”

  Crouching in front of the hole, he focused and activated the new version of Animal Form. During the process, his arms and legs merged with his body, the head shrank, the torso stretched, and the skin molded into scales until he became a snake resembling Lady Plissken.

  “So, Mr. Scaly, how are you feeling?” Niki teased.

  “It’s weird. Feels like my face is stuck to the floor,” he said, trying to move forward, but his scaly body reacted differently to every command. Compared to this, the bear form was child’s play.

  It didn’t take long to realize that mimicking a snake’s motion while thinking like a human wouldn’t work. He had to imagine himself in the skin of a crawler. And it worked, visualizing his body moving like a serpent made the VR headset interpret his intent.

  “Are you planning to use that form for something useful? Or is this just for show?” Artic said.

  This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

  “Wait for me,” Ragnar replied. “If we’re lucky, I’ll find something for you too.” His voice came through normally in snake form.

  Ragnar then slithered into the tunnel. The absence of light forced him to move blindly through a claustrophobic nightmare, but in this form, he fit easily through the narrow space.

  Minutes later, his head bumped into something. Panic filled his mind until he realized it was just a sharp turn.

  Time passed and he continued crawling, until a faint thread of light appeared in the darkness. Ragnar slithered faster. The beam grew brighter until an opening took shape. As he passed through it, a message appeared:

  Secret Area Discovered: Tomb of the Serpent King

  “Hell yeah!” Ragnar exclaimed, returning to human form.

  He extended his spear forward and cast Will-o’-the-Wisp to light up the place. The tomb was a sealed chamber, about the size of a volleyball court, its entrance blocked by a thick layer of stone.

  This place was sealed so that only serpents could enter. Probably to keep thieves from stealing the treasures left here, Ragnar thought, gazing at the piles of items and objects scattered across the floor.

  Then he walked toward the back of the tomb, the greenish glow from the spear’s tip revealed a black stone sepulcher pressed against the wall. Judging by its familiar size, it likely guarded the body of a humanoid creature.

  Ragnar approached with caution, eyes scanning for tripwires, suspicious holes, or any kind of mechanism that might trigger a trap.

  When he stopped just inches away from the sepulcher, he exhaled in relief. The place was clear. Now calmer, he turned his attention to the black tomb before him.

  Resting on top was a long, slender rod, nearly two meters long. It looked like a dark wooden staff, carved with spiraling serpents. Ragnar noticed that the tip was shaped like a serpent’s head, fangs bared.

  “A staff?”

  Before trying to grab it, he studied the tomb once more, especially the sepulcher where he assumed the item’s owner rested. Finding nothing suspicious, he took the risk. Reaching out carefully, he grasped the staff and slowly pulled it toward himself.

  A system window appeared:

  You have acquired The Viper’s Ruin.

  The staff began to shake violently in his hands. His heart pounded, but Ragnar managed to subdue the vibration with brute strength until it finally stopped.

  The eyes of the serpent carved at the staff’s tip glowed red. From its open mouth, a sharp blade extended outward, the glowing eyes dimmed.

  Still tense and wary, Ragnar realized he wasn’t holding a staff or a rod. It was a special spear. He opened his inventory and checked the item’s details.

  The weapon was a lucky find for a low-level avatar. Being an epic item, its stats far exceeded those of ordinary weapons of the same level.

  In New Avalon Online, item rarity was divided as follows:

  Common items (white): as the name implies, they make up the vast majority of items scattered throughout the world. You can find them anywhere.

  Special items (green): harder to find than common ones, but stronger.

  Rare items (blue): not usually sold in regular shops, but by merchants with whom the player has built some degree of friendship. Items of this rarity are barely dropped by monsters.

  Epic items (purple): like the spear Ragnar found, are mostly obtained by defeating bosses, completing difficult quests or discovering secret areas.

  Legendary equipment (orange): it’s the obsession of the player base, for being both extremely powerful and ridiculously hard to obtain. The most common way to acquire one was by defeating a raid’s final boss on the hardest difficulty.

  However, despite Legendary gear being coveted by players all around the world, it wasn’t the highest rarity. That title belonged to the Relics (gold). Yet there was only one known way to obtain a Relic: by winning the World Championship.

  Daniel, the person controlling Ragnar, had always dreamed of wielding a Relic-tier weapon in his glory days, preferably a hammer so powerful and awe-inspiring that it would command respect just by holding it.

  But that dream was far away now. Instead of a one-of-a-kind weapon that inspired envy, Ragnar now held a spear belonging to the third-rarest category in the game.

  Despite its power, the spear wouldn’t last long, being a low-level item. Even if upgraded to its limit, with each level he gained, it would grow weaker compared to its competitors, until the inevitable moment came when it had to be replaced.

  Ragnar pushed those thoughts aside and turned his attention back to his surroundings. He crouched and ran his hand over the sepulcher, but what he felt was not what he expected. The material lacked the sturdiness, coldness, and texture of stone. It felt more like the trunk of a tree.

  He scratched his neck, trying to make sense of it. Apparently, the serpent-warrior called Najir had been buried in a wooden coffin. Ragnar glanced once more at the Viper’s Ruin and equipped it as his main weapon.

  A system window appeared:

  “A quest with mysterious level and rewards, huh… interesting.”

  Ragnar left the secret tomb through the serpents’ passage. Within minutes, he returned to the round chamber of the den, where Artic and Niki were leaning against the wall, complaining.

  “I wonder if all that was even worth it,” the assassin grumbled. “We fought so hard just to walk away with nothing but a bag of coins.”

  The druid crawled out of the hole, returned to his human form, and replied, “You gained experience too.”

  “So? Did you find anything wherever it was you went?”

  Ragnar showed them his new weapon, a masterpiece with a dark brown wooden shaft carved with spiraling serpents. Its snake-head-shaped tip features a forty-centimeter blade protruding from its open mouth.

  “Incredible, right?” he said as his teammates admired the new spear.

  “Lucky bastard,” Artic replied, then smirked. “What was that thing you did with the snake-woman anyway? Kneeling and blabbering a bunch of nonsense to an NPC…”

  “Oh, yeah, that,” Ragnar said, stroking his chin and matching his friend’s sarcasm. “And look what it got me: an epic weapon way better than yours and a cute serpent companion. I’d say the whole act paid off quite well.”

  Niki jumped forward and bowed dramatically. “Oh, great warrior, forgive this humble adventurer for mocking Your Excellency.”

  Artic burst out laughing.

  “Go to hell…,” Ragnar muttered with a crooked grin. “You’re only teasing me because I came out on top of both of you.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty, your humble subjects admire your superiority,” Niki finished as they reached the cracked wall that served as the den’s exit.

  “Ladies first,” Ragnar said, bowing.

  “How chivalrous,” she teased, squeezing through the narrow fissure between the rocks.

  On the other side of the stone wall, they paused to observe the forest trail.

  “So, what now?” Ragnar asked. “Does our partnership end here?”

  “We still have that bet,” Artic reminded him. “Or did you think we’d forgotten?”

  “Be prepared,” the assassin said. “Once I hit level twenty, we’re going to use you every single day.”

  “You make me sound like a gigolo,” Ragnar said, laughing. “But I can’t wait to welcome the first members of my future guild. I promise I’ll treat you both with love and care.”

  “Keep dreaming,” Artic snorted.

  Niki opened the game menu, and Artic did the same. Two notifications flashed across Ragnar’s vision.

  Niki has sent you a friend request.

  Artic has sent you a friend request.

  Ragnar accepted them. In a spontaneous gesture, the three shook hands before saying goodbye.

  “Send my regards to your hunter friend,” Niki said.

  “And tell him to train more. He needs it…,” Artic added.

  And each went their own way.

  Ragnar moved quickly along the path toward the Sanctuary of Lilies until coming across two suspicious figures crouched behind a fallen log beside the trail with their backs turned to him.

  One was a level 7 warrior, the other a level 8 thief. The two players’ names glowed red, marking them as Player Killers. But another detail caught Ragnar’s attention as he analyzed them: both belonged to the Black Paw guild.

  Black Paw… that’s the guild Bartov the tavernkeeper mentioned when he tried to threaten me, Ragnar recalled, thinking back to the tavern incident.

  Even at level 6, he approached carefully and asked, “Waiting for someone?”

  The question startled them. They jumped up in a hurry. The thief looked Ragnar up and down, nudged his partner, and said, “That’s him!”

  The warrior gripped the iron sword on his back with both hands, while the thief raised a crossbow and took aim.

  Ragnar dashed toward them.

  The warrior swung his sword in a wide arc, aiming to cleave him in half, but the druid planted his spear into the ground and vaulted over his head.

  The thief, surprised by the acrobatics, pulled the trigger, but the bolt struck a tree branch instead. Ragnar landed facing him and drove the spear straight into his heart, landing a critical hit and poisoning him with the Viper’s Ruin special effect.

  Ragnar then spun and kicked the warrior square in the chest, sending him staggering, and before he could regain his footing, a Lightning Bolt struck him head-on.

  The warrior refused to yield and charged again, rage burning in his eyes, but three roots burst from the ground and wrapped tightly around his body.

  Ragnar wasted no time and rushed the thief. The poor man posed no threat at all. Instead of drawing the dagger at his waist for close combat, he fumbled to reload the crossbow.

  After a series of spear thrusts and slashes, the thief collapsed. A small coin pouch appeared beside the body. Ragnar picked it up and placed it in his inventory. The jingle of coins echoed as 300 rubros were added to his account.

  The roots binding the warrior crumbled away, but he didn’t attack immediately. Instead, he stayed in a guard stance, staring at the skilled druid before him.

  “Why did you attack me?” Ragnar demanded.

  The warrior’s face showed nervousness, but he stood firm and said, “Orders from the boss.”

  “Was it because of the tavern incident?” Ragnar asked.

  The warrior nodded.

  The druid frowned. His name was now on the blacklist of a powerful local guild. If Bartov had been telling the truth, the Black Paw could be strong enough to hunt him across the entire Salem province. The fact that they had already sent two players to track him down in such a remote forest was proof of that.

  “Surrender and leave,” Ragnar warned, “or you’ll share your friend’s fate.”

  The warrior hesitated for a moment, almost considering the offer, but a sudden thought made him change his mind.

  “Never!” he shouted, raising his iron sword and charging.

  The blade came down toward Ragnar’s skull, but he blocked it with the spear’s shaft and deflected it to the side. The warrior’s stance broke, and Ragnar lunged forward, unleashing a flurry of spear strikes.

  The warrior fell to his knees, defeated.

  Just like before, a pouch appeared beside the corpse, this one containing 500 rubros. Ragnar took it with great satisfaction.

  Still, the concern of being hunted crept back into his mind. If he were killed by a competent Black Paw squad, he’d face the death penalty: a twelve-hour lockout from the game. That punishment was the nightmare of every player who only had the weekends to play.

  Taking a deep breath, Ragnar shifted into bear form and sprinted toward the Sanctuary of Lilies. Inside the sanctuary, he headed straight for the Lake of Tranquility, where he found Lina, the lynx-woman who served as the Protector of the place.

  He reported the tragic fate of the druid team sent to the den. The Protector mourned the loss, and a “mission complete” message appeared before Ragnar along with another announcing his progress:

  You have evolved to level 7