Chapter 1: The Man Within the Dream

[Warning: Excessive loss of blood of blood detected.]

- Threat Level: Critical...

[Warning: Cardiopulmonary functions failing...]

- Threat Level: Critical...

Su Fei awoke amids blaring notifications, warning him with urgent beepings and horns inside his own head; it mixed with the thunderous phantom noises of battle—an afterglow of the battlefield where he last fought before losing consciousness. He groaned as he slowly came to his senses; his head felt like it was about to split in half.

'What happened...' he thought, and tried to recall the last memories he had before blacking out.

'Right... If remember, I was in battle with some friend from the Divine Legion in Alkash Mountains. It was a war against the forces of Madahra's Undead Legion...' He remembered it now: the dark, ashen skies and the cold, howling winds; the seemingly endless tide enemies that just kept coming, like vast and ever-flowing stream of darkness, flowing down from the sharp and shadowed distant peaks; the thousands upon thousands of skeleton soldiers marching down the battlefield and the necromancers mixed alongside them, constantly renewing their numbers; Bone Dragons flying in the sky, encircling the perimeter of their armies alongside wraiths and the harmless crows...

They had been ambushed, and was surrounded on all sides. The battle was already over even before it began.

As he thought of it, Su Fei couldn't help but curse. Those damn bastards from the Flame Thorns—damn them and their incompetence! They didn't just screw themselves up from their failure to guard the rear—they had doomed them all!

'Those fucking noobs!' Su Fei cursed as he held back the urge to scream. To think all of those time they spent planning, all the efforts they spent, all wasted for nothing—just because some brain-dead team wasn't properly watching their post! It was absolutely frustrating!

Su Fei checked his status while still grumbling to himself. Well, at least he should be thankful that he didn't die. He had no idea how he managed to survive—perhaps one of his companions or subordinates managed to hoist him out of the chaos and drag him to safety somewhere. When he saw his status, however, a frown formed between his brows.

'What's this?' he thought after seeing the alerts that notified him of his current state. He'd expected to see some sort of fatal wounds or curses, since they'd just been at war with Madahra's Undead Legion—but he didn't seem to have been afflicted with any dangerous curse of some sort, luckily enough. Still that did not explain the ridiculous wounds his status window displayed. Severe loss of blood, cardiopulmonary failure, corpse poisoning...

'Wait, corpse poisoning?' Su Fei thought. 'Haven't I already completed the quest to upgrade my constitution to the Untainted Physique?'

How did a special physique descended from the Silver themselves manage to get afflicted with such low-level dark debuff? A bug, perhaps?

'Damn it, looks like even the developers aren't doing their job right...'

Well, that didn't matter now. He'd had enough of cursing the numerous incompetency of the people around him; he did not want to waste his sanity by further dealing with more. Su Fei had plenty of time to report it later on anyway, once he logged out of the game—as for the corpse poison, he'd have a priest cleanse it for him later on; there were plenty of them in every towns. For now, he decided to assess his own situation.

Su Fei stood, coughing weakly as he hoisted himself off the cold, cobbled floor. He pulled aside a dead skeleton that, for some reason, was weighing down on him from above. He didn't think much of it and assumed it was probably a prank; perhaps to scare him of his daylights once he woke up. But too bad for them—Su Fei was not one to get scared easily. At least not from these low-level weaklings, which he could ignore with his current levels and still not get hurt if they attacked. It was pretty much the same for any high-level players in the entire game.

'It's a wonder why the Madarahn Legion still bothers to conjure them,' he thought. It was the already the 44th Year of the Second Epoch, yet Madahra still kept conjuring these low-level grunts. At best they could only be experience points for the low-level players, and practice partners for newbies. They were completely useless on the battlefield, and an utter waste of magic spells.

'Well, I guess the conjurers' brains must have rotten from all the handling of foul magic of undeath for a long time. It must have rendered them incapable changing ways...'

As Su Fei grumbled and complained inwardly, he was suddenly forced to pause when he realized he was actually having trouble pushing away this pile of bones. He clicked his tongue in annoyance. At normal conditions, Su Fei had the raw strength to even win a wrestling match against a Bone Dragon—but now, he was having trouble even lifting a skeleton soldier that was missing its lower half. It truly was pathetic.

'As expected, having the [Weakened] status debuff was nothing to scoff at.' he thought, straining effort as he finally managed to push away the skeleton soldier. He then gave himself time to breathe.

As he rested, Su Fei thought back to the previous battle. How long had it been since then? The Amber Sword was on a whole different level when it came to realism, so it even simulated the part where a player gets unconscious. Although players could log out then, Su Fei did not want to even spent any more seconds out in that unfair shit-hole called reality. He had enough supplementary nutrients to last him months inside the game without logging out...

'The Battle in Alkash Mountains,' he thought. 'It was supposed to be an easy victory. The Divine Legion's military prowess was nothing to laugh, and we had fool-proof plan for the counterattack. It it wasn't for the shit-brained idiots from the Flame Thorns, our formation wouldn't have collapsed, and we would have easily wiped them out with reinforcements...'

As he thought about the results of the battle, Su Fei could not help but feel frustrated and ashamed—even depressed. This defeat did not simply mean another loss in his records. It was a massive blot on his winning streak as an army leader in the Holy Church Alliance, and would directly affect the balance of power within the war. It would result on his name being remembered throughout the game as a failure of a leader—both among ruling NPC's, as well as the player base in the real world. He figured the news of his epic defeat at Alkash Mountains should be flaring up in the forums by now.

His goal of one day ruling his own nation in-game was a distant dream by now.

"Fuck all this shit—fuck those idiots and those Madahran piceses of shit!" Su Fei couldn't help but curse aloud in frustration. However, he also knew that cursing, nor even venting, wouldn't do anything to undo his failure. So he tried to calm himself.

'That's right. I should find a way to survive for now.' Even as he rested, he noticed that he was still bleeding. Although it wasn't bleeding as much, since he calmed his own heartbeart—thus slowing down the circulation of blood—it would still kill him if left untended. 'I need to find something to stop the bleeding with.'

Since 'The Amber Sword' was a game with high focus on realism, it did not have an inventory system, where players can store their items and equipment wherever they went. It was both a feature and a bane for the game, but players eventually grew used to it. If anything, it was actually met with positivity among critics, since it didn't give players too much advantage against NPCs.

"The Amber Sword's balancing system gives the feeling of universal fairness," a famous streamer once commented during his reviews, "to both players and NPCs. It makes the game feel real..." It was those words that made Su Fei decide to play the game. It it had been years for since then; he was still playing it daily, as if it was his first time playing.

In any case, he looked around, searching for anything he could use to heal himself. He hoped that anyone who brought him here must have at least left a Health Potion for him to use. However, that didn't seem to be the case. There was nothing inside the room, other than a wrecked bed covered with sword cuts and furniture wreckage strewn all over—as if a fierce battle had occured here just a few hours ago. He couldn't even find one of the basic necessities for soldiers in war—bandages.

Su Fei wasn't surprised, however. 'Looks like the baggage carriers ran way with the potions,' he thought, 'or had died and the items they carried either looted or destroyed.'

It wasn't his first time being in war; he knew there were bound to be losses. And since the battle at Alkash Mountains had ended in their epic failure, he doubted that the baggage carriers—low-level players and NPCs tasked to carry supplies and equipment—even survived at all.

'I guess I'll have to make do with this,' he though as he turned to the torn sheets on the bed. It wasn't much, but it should stop the bleeding... for now. He went and tore the sheets, wrapping it around his wounds; it felt like patching a leaking hose with paper and scotch tape—it wasn't even enough to completely seal his wounds, but it should be enough to buy him time to find a way to properly tend to them later...

'I should get going.' Su Fei poised himself to rise from the floor, but when his eyes happened to get a glimpse of what laid beyond the window, he became utterly dumfounded.

'Come to think of it...' he thought, feeling a certain sense of clarity return. 'Where the hell is this place? This place... it's not the Alkash Mountains...'

What entered he saw outside was a scenery that did not conform to his expectations. There was no ashen grey sky, no bone-white spires protruding out of steep ridges and slopes... no wraiths and Bone Dragons—not even a single skeleton outside nor the familiar jagged peaks looming in the distance.

And now that he thought of it, where was he at the moment? He seemed to be inside a room—a medium sized room that would have seemed quite decent if it wasn't wrecked. It looked nowhere near their military encampment in Alkash Mountains.

...In the first place, was he still in Alkash Regions at all?

Suddenly, Su Fei realized something odd. 'Wait... Why does this room seem so... familiar?' He didn't know why, but he felt like he was back inside his room in the real world—except that it didn't give him the feeling of anxiety that reality brought. Instead, he simply felt... at home. It was very strange indeed.

Su Fei looked around, and recognized everything inside the room. The sword lying nearby, the slashed painting strewn on the floor, the bed and other furnitures... even those he couldn't see—it was as if the house belonged to him and had been living here for years.

'This room is on the second floor among other unoccupied rooms... On the first floor is the living room and the kitchen, and under the stairs is a passageway that leads towards the basement... Yes, I remember. This is a house design common in the northern regions of Aouine... A house that is considered a luxury here in the south...' Before he knew it, Su Fei had fallen into a trance.

How long had he known all these? The hillside town of Usson, a small border town within Bucce, felt like a distant fond memory... But wasn't it already occupied by the Madahran Legion? He clearly remembered Aouine as a country that Madahra had conqured during the War of the Black Rose.

"...But wait—I'm right here... aren't I?"

"No, no, no—that doesn't make sense! Bucce was..."

"Bucce... Usson Hills... Bucce...."

"Aouine..." Su Fei repeatedly mumbled to himself in a daze, as conflicting knowledge and memories stirred inside his head.

And suddenly, there was a click inside his head—like a final piece of a puzzle, settling itself to complete the whole picture.

'Ah, that's right,' he thought. 'How could I forget. My name is Brando, born in Bruglas—a half Kadreig with only a bit of nobility in my bloodline from my mother's side... My father is an Aouine commoner, but my grandfather was a well-reputed soldier who earned the Candlelight Emblem from the November War. So we are—albeit only honorary—still considered a family of knights...'

Brando felt like he was sinking deep into a pitch-black ocean. How could he have forgotten? How could he... he...

He was...

"No!" Su Fei felt a terrible chill inside his heart, his head raised a series of alarms. That wasn't right! He was Su Fei—a pure-blooded Chinese citizen!

'What the hell is this!?' Could it be a bug in the database—he was actually recalling memories that obviously belonged to an NPC! And it wasn't as simple as drawing knowledge from magic tome or something similar—the memories were invading his head itself, flooding in and mixing with his own!

Brando... no, Su Fei—right, he was Su Fei—felt his heart race as his breaths grew shorter and shorter. He remembered fighting against the skeleton that nearly murdered him in his sleep. The fear that he—Brando—felt was vivid in his memories that he—Su Fei—felt embarassed of himself—or perhaps themselves—as memories of mowing down thousands of the same skeleton resonated inside his—Su Fei's? Brando's? To whom did it belong again?—memories... He—who was he?—remembered being in a fierce battle, taking down dozens of skeletons in a swing of his sword. Skeletons soldiers were nothing for him—they were merely useless cannon fodder... then he was blown away when the skeleton dislodged its sword of the wardrobe... the Bone Dragon fell after a few exchanges with his sword... but there was too many of them—one in front, one in the back, and he had no weapon—because those bastards from the Flame Thorn didn't stand their ground!

...Then he died, beaten by... two skeletons? Wait, wasn't he killed after being caught off-guard by a Lich? He vividly remembered the cold flash of steel, coming towards him... or was it the bright green flash of a powerful dark-attribute ray of light?

Everything turned to darkness afterwards.

That's right. That was how it was, apparently—he couldn't be sure; he had never died before... but who had? Everyone knew that if your die once, you were dead for good—unless Holy Mother Marsha brought you back, of course... or maybe respawn? There was apparently a 12-hour wait before you could log into the game again after dying... You could return to Goddess Marsha's side afterwards, if she decided you were worthy, and live forever by her side, along the countless other she'd chosen worthy...

Visions flashed into his head like a rolling film, showing sceneries of Brando's life. He only fell deeper into a trance, as if his mind could no longer stand remaining conscious. He did not resist—he couldn't muster the will to fight back.

Nothing made sense anymore.

† † †

How much time had passed? Not too long, apparently. The position of the stars in the sky hadn't changed much from what he remembered. 'He' sighed.

"What the heck is going on?" he muttered.

The chaos inside his head hadn't completely subsided. Still, he couldn't help but be amazed at the human mind's ability to categorize information—in the short span of time that he spent in a daze, his brain had somehow sorted the different information into two parts. There was still a single will behind all of the information—a single mind that processed all decisions. It didn't seem like he'd developed a paralell personality but... was he even the same person anymore?

With two sets of memory inside his head, both as real as it could be—and he had lived both, from birth to the current day—who did that make him? Was he Su Fei, or was he Brando?

Just as he began to agonize from the existential crisis, a voice suddenly echoed inside his head.

"You are no one but yourself," the voice said. "Both Su Fei and Brando. Right now, you may be lost, but you must remember—what defines a man is not what he is, but what he does..."

The voice echoed inside his head like a warm, pleasant bell. It seemed to soothe his mind free of his worries, like a mother telling her child that everything would be alright.

Suddenly, he felt like he had been worrying about nothing.

He chuckled, feeling a bit ashamed of his reactions. 'Seriously, what have I been so worried about?' he thought. 'I was pointlessly worrying about who or what I am, but the voice is right—I am none other than myself. What will define me isn't what I am, but what I do and choose to become.'

As if a fog had been liften out of his head, he suddenly felt like... free—not simply in the way he could do whatever he wanted, but in the way he could 'become' whatever he wanted. He was confident of it now; he had knowledge and experience from the game—The Amber Sword—as well as some knowledge from Brando's nineteen years of living.

And with all those advantages in hand, he'd be worse than the incompetents he mocked in his mind if he didn't put it to good use—worse than those brain-dead idiots from the Flame Thorns, and perhaps even worse than Brandal.

He couldn't think of anything more insulting than being worse than Brandal the Prick.

A newfound sense of purpose began to well up inside his heart. He didn't know where, or to whom, that voice belonged to, but he was grateful for it. Besides, he already had an idea who it was anyway.

He kneeled and lowered his head, then uttered a low prayer. "Thank you, Goddess Marsha." As he prayed, he made a mental note never to spout vulgarities to her name—or her tits—ever again.

He then stood and took a deep breath. 'Alright. Since I have two different identities in me,' he thought, 'it'd be a waste not to use either.' A smile formed on his lips.

"From now on, I'll be known to this world as Brando."