Dreadwolf logged into the game once more. He smiled at the familiar weight of his staff on his back, the feeling of his traveler's clothes on his skin, the somehow comfortable weight of his leather armor. It never ceased to amaze him. He rejoiced at the cold, clear air, clearer than he'd ever smelled back in the "Real" world. There was no pollution here, and he could smell everything distinctly, incredibly. He remembered how it had disoriented him at first, all the smells assaulting him at once. He smiled, reaching into his pocket and feeling the smooth, cool glass that was his potion bottles, reaching into another inside his leather coat and feeling the gold in there, the nice weight of it, the gold, silver, and copper clinking together. Just about all your items were like that, your inventory actually didn't hold much. Or, rather, your inventory was on your body. He smiled, walking forward, but then heard large bells toll.

An event? He thought. That's odd. I haven't seen any events. Perhaps it's a server announcement. He thought to himself as his body began to glow blue. He found himself immersed in a world of light, as normally happened when he teleported. But this time, he saw an odd sight. A boy stood there, staring at him. His eyes were a deep, startling gray, and his hair was blond. He had a crystal longsword at his back, in its sheath. He didn't look like anyone Dreadwolf had seen before. He had no more time to contemplate this strange sight when he appeared at his destination... An arena.

   A voice spoke from all directions at once. "Warriors, prove yourselves worthy of this world! All who fall here will respawn safely, do not worry. But the victors... Will find themselves rewarded greatly."

Perfect, thought Dreadwolf. A chance to perhaps meet that strange boy I saw. His weapon is unfamiliar. Perhaps he's been farther out, or to an area I haven't been before. He looked powerful. He smiled to himself, pulling his staff off his back. Let the battle commence. 

    He strode farther into the arena, and saw his enemy. cheers met him from all sides as the people chanted for a battle. Dreadwolf would oblige.

    Dreadwolf stood in the center of the arena, his staff in hand. He pressed on the sides and twisted it, pulling the sword from the bottom. Gasps came from the crowd, this being a weapon they had never seen. The crystal topping his staff glowed as he prepared a spell. "Flamma, imperium meum adiuva me vincit. Satani!" (From now on, I will be putting the meaning in parenthesis. Tell me if I should keep doing this. This is the translation. Flames, come to my command, help me win this battle. Explosion!) He growled out, letting his instinctive spell be cast, pouring his will into it, not knowing what it even meant. An explosion blasted where the enemy stood. Was Dreadwolf really being pitted against someone of that level? He smirked, sheathing his sword back in his staff. He didn't even need his blade. 

"Victor: Dreadwolf!" The voice said, cheers rising from the audience. "Next battle!" He heard voices distantly, and realized there were a few arenas going on at once, to help speed up the process. His next enemy appeared, and Dreadwolf noticed his mana go up to full, his skin grow cold for just a moment. He realized this was to keep everyone in their top condition after each battle was over. He watched his prey. "Augue!" He incanted, the crystal on his staff glowing, and he fired off a simple Fireball spell off the top of his head. His enemy kept coming, his shield raised. He'd blocked the Fireball. "How did he..." Dreadwolf muttered, then noticed the slight shimmer of the shield. "How did he come across an enchanted weapon??" Dreadwolf asked himself as he fired off another spell, analytically watching his opponent. The spell hit the shield and was absorbed, as though it had never connected. Dreadwolf unsheathed his sword. Time to fight. He put his staff back on his back, his blade and the enemy's meeting, first once, then twice, then a third time. This person actually had some skill. In this game, level meant a lot, but in player versus player, skill mattered a lot more. So a high level player could be beaten by a low level player if they were good with a sword, but level could make a large difference. Their blades clashed repeatedly, them circling each other, every bit of his focus engaged in the fight. A spell left his lips, him not expecting the incantation. After all, there were no spells for melee combat. His sword glowed brightly, and he felt his senses ramp up. He could feel the sweat on his face, the crowd's cheers. He felt each time the blades connected. He saw every detail of the blades, their gear, everything. He blocked his enemy's blade, then counterattacked. His opponent attempted to block with his shield, but he was too slow. He looked at the sword protruding from his chest, a look of shock on his face. Blood welled out from the wound. Dreadwolf felt extreme sadness at this victory, his mind telling him to relax, it was just a game, but his senses kept insisting that it was reality. He'd never slain an enemy in this way before. True death or not, he didn't like it. His enemy vanished, and he sheathed his sword back in his staff. The crowd cheered, but Dreadwolf felt numb to it all as his senses went back to their norm. Sweat ran down his face and all across his body. He felt his muscles, which were beginning to ache, loosen and feel like new. He felt his body grow cold, all the sweat disappear, his thirst quenched instantly. His next opponent approached, this one wearing all black, no armor. He had long sleeves and pants, obviously built for mobility and not defense. Two daggers were at his sides. Dreadwolf watched this opponent. He appeared built like an Assassin class, built for speed. "Damn." He muttered. His opponent would be quick on his feet, not one Dreadwolf would want to fight up close. His enemy walked forth, beginning to cast one of his spells. All classes had magic skills they could use, some of them spells, others passive effects. Assassins were built for sneaking around. Their magic type was Illusion. This would be a difficult fight...

Author's Note

Should I delete this book? It's not very good...