Blacken tipped fingers, stained with ink, dabbed a pinch of blotting papper over the final page of blocked images. Another chapter of "Orc-tosan" finished, a sheepish smile pinched chubby cheeks in satisfaction as he stacked the sheets, aligning them together with a clack against the drawing desk before sliding into a yellow envelope. Only a small lamp fought back the encroaching darkness, just as well, concealing the inevitable mess surrounding. He shuffled his socked feet through the collection of energy drink cans and fast food wrappers and bags to the door. Cracking open the door, the warm stale air seeming to be sucked from the tiny apartment as if it was pressurized. He only pressed enough of his bulk outside to reach the locked mailbox next to the door. His editor would pick up the manuscript from it, he had heard enough of his editor's criticism of any but the manga, the state of apartment, his weight, his paler. Locking the box and the door quickly, withdrawing like a turtle into its shell when threatened. Work done; it was time for his reward.

Jaunting through, he snapped up the remnants of his final energy drink, tossing it back and letting it clatter to the floor to rejoin its brethren. He flops onto the bed, covered in laundry new and old, the metal frame creaking in protest. He reach over to the headset, resting on a pedestal on the bedside table and slips it over his head before laying back. Darkness filled his senses.

Sensation returned to him, but his vision was not the same. While he would see normally for about five feet from himself, a radius that didn't even reach the ground for him now, color faded into a full blackness. Instead, forms were contoured in white, this was how the game displayed his "Blind sight" though streaks of color drifted through the air as well, that his "Scent" ability. These were the thing necessary to convey these senses in the virtual world that were beyond what could be simulated, theoretically his blindsight should be a full 360 degrees around him, but he was not sure if a human brain would be able to comprehend or process that.

As it was, he stood in an enormous cave, marked sporadically in stalagmites and stalactites, but also with worked stone in carving of angels, goddesses, and grave stones. Undead milled about but paid him no mind, he was a guild member after all. He walked towards a white outline of a square, if he were able to see normally it might be filled with the light of day or even starlight, either would be brighter then the tomb behind. He immerged from the great doorway of a grandeous mausoleum, flanked by enormous armor-clad statues, gargoyles, unmoving on the roof's edge, glowering down at him. The open air of the cemetery was no less acrid than that of the cave, if not worse, surrounded by the poisonous swampland of Helheim as it was.

More than just the undead milled about in the graveyard that marked the entrance of the Great Tomb of Nazarick. While the colossal statues behind him were twice his size, they made it a little too easy to forget his own enormity. His bandage wrapped hands poking out from a tattered grey cloak, beneath a deep hood he wore a dirty linen veil. Stained with sweat, dirty, and blood in the approximation of a face in pain, a silken scarf tied across where the eyes would be. With the chard patches of flesh and purple scars he looked something like a beggar or a leper, though such illusions were quickly dissolve with any reference to size. Even as he hunched he stood twice as tall as any human, shoulders broader than even thrice that.

The raiding party was beginning to gather here, player characters easy to distinguish among the throngs of generic undead even with the various emotes did not float above their heads amid conversation. Gazing across those gathered, it didn’t seem like everyone had logged in yet, it seemed he rushed for nothing but he was none the less glad he didn’t make the party wait for him or, worse, leave him behind. The loot pool was just too good for his build. A demonic red dragon was an ideal loot source for him to find equipment to buff both his fire power and demonic abilities. He plopped down onto a burial mound; perhaps not the best omen but the environment gave little choice. He bowed his horned head in deep though. For the same reason the loot was good for him this fight would be difficult, fire attacks would do nothing, even with his special class ability he could only do half damage. Reaching back under his cloak, at his hip, he caressed over the fist-sized ruby clutched in a dragon’s gnarly wood claw. It was a unique weapon he made in the “Chaos Smelter” event that gave you a chance to fuse two items into a new one, by combining a Souldrinker Axe with a Rod of Fire Elemental he had made something uniquely suited to his build. It seemed rather useless to bring against an ancient fire dragon. He shakes his head rapidly, attempting to loose the negative thoughts from between his ears. He had much more to offer than just shooting fire and swinging a fiery axe! He could support his fellow guildmates! The Dragon might be immune to fire but so was he, and he could pass that protection to his party along with his rage abilities! He bursts with pride, thrusting a fist into the air clutching his greataxe, “Yeah!” immediately regretting letting his internal monologue spill out, immediately yanks his axe back under his cloak. A “o///o” emoji bubble blinks above his head as he bows it back down. At the very least, he had his “Marching Orders” ability from his Warlord class, which would cut their travel time in half since they could not fast travel to the newly added area, and time was of the essence.

Blaze sat on a gravestone, flanked by his Honour Guard. He was irritated at the new dungeon possessing a boss who was fuctionally immune to fire. Admittedly his Divine Pyromancy did mean he would still do Holy Damage, but this was going to be as much of a slog as when he fought Prometheus. At least this time he had allies to aid in the fight.

Interestingly there were legends about this dragon in other places. The Demon Dragon was infamous among some of the ancient texts he had found, along with unseen beasts such as the Devourer. From the descriptions and depictions of the Devourer, he believed that to be a Tarasque, a beast that sees dragons are prey. Clearly the developers left these as Easter Eggs to tease upcoming content.

Like most of the raids he entered, he wasn't particularly fussed about the magic items or the gold. He entered to scour the dungeons for hidden secrets and lore, to find things that haven't had a chance to see the light of day. Of course, said goal was easier after he had bribed members of other guilds for maps of the dungeon. He probably should share the details with his guildmates, but that could wait until they were all here.

For a cheap and lazy man, a room in reality and a room in fantasy were very much the same, which was to say meagerly furnished. In reality, however, that man needed to make some concessions to accommodate living with his girlfriend, which needed attention, care, and half-decent furniture. Yggdrasil demanded no such requirements. So it was that when he got off a long shift of tending the bar at the back of a busy restaurant, he logged into his DMMO of choice and booted into a dark, squalid chamber with nothing but a private chest for his unneeded belongings in it.

Nut pulled up the player roster first thing. Two names appeared on the virtual dossier as 'online:' Hunk and Blaze. Not bad, but not good. Wasn't that big raid supposed to happen today? They would need a bit more of a concerted effort to plunder the dragon's hoard before the updated rolled out and resigned the ol' lizard to irrelevance possibly forever. Then again, the idea had come together pretty suddenly. Not a lot of people could jump in on short notice for an emergency dungeon run like this. To be honest, Nut wondered why he was bothering. He doubted he would have much use for the rewards in question, and he doubted that the guild's leader or the raid's real beneficiaries would show him much gratitude for it. He guessed he just needed something to do, to work out the piss and vinegar bottled up in him by his lousy shift.

With the use of his guild ring, he began warping around Nazarick to find where everyone was meeting. It took only a few tries to turn up the spot, that being one of the usual meeting places. Nut materialized at the end of the graveyard, spotted a hulking oni and bored-looking kitsune kicking back amid the tombstones, and started floating their way. “Hey, hey,” he greeted them, his voice masked by a distorting filter that suited his character. “What's shaking? We've got more guys coming, right? New dungeons take forever to beat for the first time, and if we're on a time crunch two fire-spitters and I aren't gonna cut it.” Nuttirbuttir's ghastly avatar began its idle animation, moving its arms in rhythmic circles as if channeling some unseen ritual.