A Whole New World

"There's no way I'm NOT dreaming right now…"

He had just been in his room, sitting at his computer chair while "Mountain Blade: Manorlord" was running. He was absentmindedly daydreaming about how cool and exciting it would be to live in a world where, as a knight, he could lead an army to glory, raise his status across the world and achieve his place in the hall of fame, never to be forgotten by the realm of which he himself created.

He had these daydreams often, but he would always blink after 10 to 15 seconds, wake from his immersion, see the game again, then either continue playing it or slide back into his daydream.

What was absurd was that this time, when he blinked, he was shocked awake by a blistering cold and a cacophony of shouts sounding around him. 

The change was so sudden that he couldn't help standing dazed for a moment or two. He looked around at his surroundings in shock as this daydream was too surreal. What he had seen, heard, and felt was simply far too vivid for a daydream.

"Fire back! Fire back! Fire back you fools! Do you wish to die?!?" A man with a deep-blue sash looped over his hip and shoulder was barking aloud in fury. He looked clearly different from the rest of the nearly hundred men that were frantically running about atop the uncomfortably narrow stone wall, the age-old wooden scaffolding creaking under their weight as they shuffled to and fro. 

He was one of the only few individuals wearing what seemed to be a chainmail shirt over a thickly padded gambeson, whereas most of the other soldiers were wearing thick wool coats or several layers of long-sleeved tunics. Regardless, every man was standing behind a stone parapet, occasionally exposing themselves to whatever lay beneath on the other side. They would pull the trigger on their crossbows before hiding themselves again to reload for another attack, all the while their hands quivered sporadically from the deep frost and their short brush with death.

 "... What the hell is this?" He had certainly daydreamed about such a tangible scene a few times in his life, but it lasted at most half a second or two each time. This dream however… It was too… Complex, and long lasting. Too real. There were too many faces and people. He could never imagine such a scene for as long as this. 

He reached down and pinched himself. He'd never really understood the concept of pain being able to wake someone up, and it didn't make sense that it would help distinguish between fantasy and reality. But... Hey, whatever works, works. 

Pinch!

Tsk. 'Ow... That clearly hurt.'

He felt the pain but didn't wake up. Clearly, he must be lucid dreaming or something similar and just didn't remember falling asleep at his desk. But this was such a cool dream. It was obvious he was in the middle of a siege of some sort. From the look of things, he was on the side of the defenders, but who were they? Who were the attackers?

After noticing more details, namely that he was wearing a bascinet, or maybe a full helm, he felt a little less apprehensive. Curiosity overwhelming him, he carefully inched up to the parapets before slowly peeking over. What greeted him was a sight that caused his blood to rush with excitement. A large force, at least seven or eight-hundred men, was assaulting his side of the fortification. 

From their ranks, numerous arrows, bolts, stones and javelins were flung about back and forth. Some of the projectiles were enshrouded by near-translucent rays of varying colors. From his perspective, he was watching a medieval fight with low-charged lasers being shot at and from the enemy encampment.

"Wow… I've GOT to learn how to lucid dream from now on." He whispered to himself excitedly. This scenario was everything he'd ever hoped for, granted it was a little weird for there to be laser bolts and such but… whatever. It felt like a deep-dive tactile VR experience, not that he'd ever really experienced one, though he knew the concept.

As he was giggling to himself like a madman, he turned his head to the side and noticed a ladder that was extending from the base of the wall. It had already attached itself to the parapets by a heavy bolt that pierced through the stone bricks. A small hole in the back of the bolt held a rope that extended towards the ladder itself, which was then pulled downwards to full tension.

As he continued to expose himself even further to catch a view on whoever might be climbing the ladder, he heard a sudden familiar shout to his side.

"Sir Swain! Careful!" The sashed soldier's voice sounded; an octave higher than before.

'Sir Swain? A Knight? Ooohoohoo! Where?'

As he raised his head and turned to survey, a slight red dot attracted his view from the enemy encampment. Time slowed as he was suddenly on alert. 

'Isn't that red stone getting bigger and bigg-'

Ptch!

The sound of a lead pipe hitting a metal mailbox rang aloud before the sound of chains grinding against wood echoed like a long slide.

Psshthud!

 After several seconds of weightlessness, he felt a sudden impact that caused all the air to leave his lungs, followed by an excruciating pain that shot up his legs and shoulders.

"Heavens! Summon the clergymen! Sir Swain is injured!" The sashed soldier cried aloud.

All the lucid-dreaming gamer could see was his vision rapidly desaturating as all color was drained and replaced by an overtone of dull gray, the voices and battle becoming distant and muffled.

Finally, he fell unconscious.