IGTL Chapter 3

Full title: In-Game Transfer: I’m the Only One Who Can Log Out!? Rise in a World Where Game and Reality Are All Mixed Up!

Note: This chapter is sponsored by M. Mark (Saint tier)

Translator: Canon

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Chapter 3 - Beginner Dungeon “Sleeping Forest” (1)

When the administrator, who called himself Odin, vanished and the sky’s color returned to normal, the plaza around the Transfer Gate “Yggdrasil” fell into chaos.

Some players suddenly burst into tears, wailing that they couldn’t log out; others went berserk in despair. Quite a few just stood there, stunned, hollow-eyed…

It was a flawless reenactment of “we can’t log out” hysteria.

A handful had been openly jubilant ever since “transfer” was mentioned.

They probably hadn’t checked their menu bar yet.

Soon enough, they would discover the Logout button and their faces would go from elation to bleak dismay.

Before long, soldiers, presumably dispatched by the admins, gathered to restrain the rampaging players in town.

That felt a bit excessive, to be honest.

While I watched, everyone who had been swinging weapons in the streets was pinned by soldiers and hauled off somewhere.

I had no idea, but apparently, so-called heroic acts (which refer to the many atrocities that were somehow justified when committed by a hero), such as swinging swords around town or breaking barrels and pots, had somehow become prohibited.

It had been nice stress relief, and you could occasionally find coins or items in those barrels and pots, but if that was how the rules worked now, so be it.

“Man… poor saps.”

The people I was pitying were hurling abuse at the soldiers.

If the soldiers caught you, they confiscated everything you carried.

That included paid items like Move Yggdrasil, so you had to be careful.

As I looked on at the arrests, my stomach growled.

A glance at the menu bar told me it was already 1:00 p.m.

“I’m getting hungry. Might as well return to the real world…”

My delivery pizza was due any minute, and I needed to sort out what had just happened.

I opened the menu and tapped Logout. My vision abruptly blacked out.

Huh? That was odd.

Usually a chibi DW mascot popped up with a “Thanks for playing.”

Maybe they had changed the sequence.

I slipped off the headgear with a sigh, right as the door chime rang.

Perfect timing. The pizza had arrived.

“Coming!”

I called toward the entryway, stood, and went to the door. I opened it and took the box from the delivery guy.

“Pizza Hut. Your order, sir.”

“Much appreciated.”

“Thank you. We hope to serve you again.”

I gave a quick nod, shut the door, and set the box on the table.

Then, I took out a bottle of “De Bortoli DB” wine, priced at 650 yen a bottle including tax, from my small wine cellar and poured the white wine into a wine glass I’d bought at the 100-yen shop.

“De Bortoli DB” had a honeyed, floral aroma and went down easy. It felt perfect for celebrating a new realm in Different World and my recent resignation.

I set the glass down, pulled up a random anime on Netflix, and opened the box: an S-size pizza cut into quarters, two chicken nuggets, and Hut Fried Potato.

When you were eating solo, Pizza Hut’s MY BOX was king.

I took a slice of Margherita, and the fragrance of tomato sauce and basil rose up. The mozzarella filled my mouth with richness.

I lifted the glass with my free hand and took a sip while the Margherita still lingered on my palate.

“…Delicious.”

The acidity of the white paired beautifully with the gentle salt of the Margherita. Alternating with Hut Fried Potato added a fun change in texture.

Truly the pastime of the Unmarried Gentry.

It was because I had quit that stress-soaked job, and because I was unattached, that I could afford this tiny luxury.

If I had a family to support, maybe I would have licked the shoes of Director Ishida, gout and all, to cling to my old position… No. That was impossible after all.

If you had to lick shoes to stay, the sensible move was to change jobs.

I had no taste for polishing the trotters of a gout-ridden swine.

After finishing the MY BOX and draining the wine, I grabbed a can of Hyoketsu from the fridge, cracked it open with a pssh, and booted up my PC while taking a pull.

I navigated to the Different World homepage and checked the latest event news.

“Huh? Weird… the event info hasn’t been updated?”

In fact, there was a link in Notices labeled “Service Termination for ‘Different World.’”

“What on earth was going on?”

It was the same on the strategy sites.

The only difference was the addition of dungeon info for the Nine Realms.

In a hurry, I powered on the headgear, put it on, and lay back on the bed.

“—Connect ‘Different World’!”

With that, I dove back in.

I opened my eyes to find Different World spread before me.

“Huh. So service hadn’t stopped after all. What was… never mind.”

No point overthinking it.

Relieved that DW was still running, I opened my menu before the Transfer Gate "Yggdrasil" and picked a dungeon.

“Transfer. Sleeping Forest.”

The moment I spoke before the gate, azure light wrapped my body, and I transitioned to the vast forest dungeon Sleeping Forest.

By the time the light faded, the transfer had already finished.

The city clamor was gone; in its place came the wind rustling leaves and birdsong.

“All right, time to start a little woodland exploration.”

I pulled up the map and moved through the trees. An orangutan-themed monster, the Mob-Utan, emerged. It was an annoying pest that would ram you at close distance and hurled stones from range.

However, my level was already maxed out.

There was no universe where a level-1 Mob-Utan could take me.

I stepped into view and ignored the incoming stones, shouldered my paid weapon, the Mob-Fenrir Bazooka, and fired.

The shell slammed into the Mob-Utan; it let out a short scream, “Gyaa!”, and disintegrated into black motes.

“Heh. What a filthy firework.”

I had just wanted to say the line.

Not that their pebbles could have hurt me anyway, not at my maxed level.

Besides, with the paid Mob-Fenrir Suit and Mob-Fenrir Bazooka (the Fenrir Series), I could have steamrolled that fight even at level 1.

Despite the name, the suit looked like an adorable wolf costumed character.

The bazooka launched wolf-shaped shells, hence Mob-Fenrir Bazooka.

For the record, “Mob-Fenrir” in DW was a wolf-god-themed monster and also the game’s mascot.

It spawned almost anywhere in a dungeon, and beating it dropped rare items, despite the lofty “Fenrir” name, it was basically a roaming trash mob.

As the black motes dissolved, a drop appeared at my feet: a Basic Recovery Potion.

“Well, it’s only the first floor.”

What I really wanted was the rarer Intermediate Recovery Potion.

A Basic Recovery Potion restored 50 HP; Intermediate restored 100, and Advanced restored 500.

These potions weren’t sold at the Yggdrasil Shop.

You either bought them from player-run stalls, commissioned a crafter with the materials, or farmed them as monster drops.

“Gyaaaah!”

“!?”

As I stored the potion, a player’s scream rang out.

“What the…?”

For someone to shriek in a beginner dungeon, something serious must have happened.

Guided by the map, I sprinted toward the voice. I found a player, bloodied, being pelted with stones by three Mob-Utans.

“Huh?”

W-Why was there blood?

Different World was a full-dive VRMMO, which meant avatars fought monsters in a virtual space.

There shouldn’t have been any bleeding. Ever.

“Oraaaah!”

The player, still under a hail of stones, charged and slashed one Mob-Utan down.

The Mob-Utan let out a short scream, then collapsed, bleeding.

“!?”

Yes, bleeding, as it fell.

My body and thoughts froze at the impossibility.

Impossible. This was a game, a virtual world.

Defeated monsters were supposed to crumble into black motes, not bleed out on the ground.

While I was trying to process that, the player cut down the remaining two, yanked a Basic Recovery Potion from their bag, and chugged it in one go.

“Cough-cough! That was close… Damn it! What is happening!?”

With that, the player started toward the gate, apparently heading back to town.

I stayed concealed in the shrubbery until they passed, then walked up to the fallen Mob-Utan.

Blood had soaked the ground; the Mob-Utan lay motionless.

I crouched and touched it. There was a faint warmth.

“This is wrong… isn’t this supposed to be a game?”

The corpse felt disturbingly real.

The flowing blood, the warmth, even the smell… Each detail was convincing enough to trick the senses.

“Gyaaas! Gyaaas!”

A monster’s cry drew my gaze upward.

A vulture-themed monster, Fang Vulture, was circling overhead.

Perfect. Time to test something.

I sighted on the Fang Vulture, raised the Mob-Fenrir Bazooka, and fired.

The round hit the center mass, punching a hole through its belly.

The vulture spiraled down and struck the ground, then finally dispersed into black motes.

When the motes faded, a drop remained: a Fang Vulture Feather.

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