Chapter 4 Welcome to Thirian

Jen read the message from her realtor and smiled.

It was Thursday—two days before Thirian's launch—and the house had finally closed. Her profit? $62,000.

The bank said it would take three business days to wire the money, but she wasn’t waiting around. It was enough. She grabbed her credit card, left the motel, and started the two-hour drive to the nearest big city.

Buying nine neural headsets in a small town like Greenshore would’ve meant waiting days for a special order. But in the city? She could go directly to the source.

It was the wiser choice.

Josh was still moody—distant, cold. He’d even asked Peter to start taking him to school and rehab instead. Since that Friday, she’d only seen him once. He was determined to punish her with silence.

But she didn’t buckle.

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In the city, Jen had to visit two stores. The first only had four headsets in stock. In her past life, every tech shop had carried hundreds of them in various models—ready to meet the global demand. But now? Supply was still catching up to the hype.

She got what she needed.

By the time she made it back to town, it was late.

She texted Ben to let him know she’d picked up the seven headsets for the team and asked him to meet her at the motel parking lot to pick them up. She didn’t mention that she wasn’t comfortable driving around their part of town after dark.

Thankfully, he replied right away and said they’d come to her.

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As she pulled into the parking lot, she spotted Ben immediately—sitting on the hood of a dented car next to Lea. They were passing what she guessed was a joint back and forth.

When she parked and opened the door, Ben recognized her and waved enthusiastically.

“Miss Dawson!” he called out, grinning like an idiot as he jogged over.

Lea followed at a more casual pace, flicking the glowing tip of the joint to the ground and stepping on it.

Her hands were deep in the pockets of baggy cargo pants that seemed too big for her slim frame. Despite the cold, she wore a ripped-up T-shirt that had been turned into a tank top, cut just above her belly button, exposing toned abs and brightly patterned boxers.

Jen, watching her, couldn’t help feeling both affectionately amused and quietly self-conscious—like she was watching the '90s resurrected by Gen Z rebellion. The clothes, the swagger—it brought back pieces of her own youth in strange, sideways ways.

“Hi,” she said, her voice soft as she smiled at them both. She pointed toward the trunk. “They’re all there. Seven headsets.”

Lea nodded, then motioned for Ben to start transferring the boxes to their car.

She didn’t move—just stood there, studying Jen with unreadable eyes.

“You living here?” she asked, nodding toward the motel behind them.

Jen pulled her coat tighter and gave a half-smile. “Temporarily. Those guild domains are pretty steep for regular folk.”

Lea smiled—just slightly. A dimple appeared on her cheek.

“I’d do the same,” she said. “If I were you.”

Jen blinked. “Why’s that?”

Lea shrugged. “As a beta, I mean. I’d keep my knowledge to myself. Bet on myself.”

She glanced sideways at Jen.

“Those other fools who sold out to corporations… they lost something. Something they don’t even know was valuable. What if the info they gave helps those rich assholes make millions? All for what? A month’s rent?”

Jen nodded slowly, the insight hitting harder than she’d expected.

“You got me there,” she said. “I’m betting on myself.”

Lea’s eyes drifted to the boxes again.

“So… you bought nine sets,” she said. “If seven are for my team, who’s the other for?”

Jen’s face lit up.

It was a kind of warmth Lea hadn’t seen in her yet.

“It’s for my son,” Jen said, voice softer. “A gift.”

She stared at the pavement, scuffing the toe of her sneaker against the concrete.

“He’s at his dad’s place. Doesn’t know what I’m doing. Not yet. But one day, he will.”

There was a pause.

Lea watched her, something thoughtful flickering behind her sharp eyes. Then she chuckled, soft and low.

“Soccer mom with secrets,” she said. “Respect.”

Ben was already loading the last headset into the trunk of their beat-up Jeep. Lea gave Jen a small wave.

“Thanks,” she said simply.

“Good luck,” Jen replied.

They pulled out of the parking lot with a honk of the horn. Jen stood alone under the flickering motel light, hands tucked deep into her coat pockets, watching the taillights disappear.

She was betting everything.

Not for a second since she’d woken up in this second chance had she doubted her future success. How could she? In her last life, she’d managed to climb to the top despite her ordinary background.

This time, she would dominate from day one.

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Friday night.

Jen sat alone at a restaurant table, her eyes flicking toward the parking lot.

She’d asked Peter to bring Josh for dinner. She watched as they pulled up—Peter’s old, high-riding truck groaning as he parked. The man was struggling, physically lifting Josh from the seat and into his wheelchair. The effort was clumsy and slow.

Even from this distance, Jen could see the storm on Josh’s face. He hated being manhandled. With her car, the transfers were smooth—just a hand to steady him, and he could almost do it on his own. For a boy with Josh’s pride, that kind of independence mattered.

When they came in, Jen couldn’t help but smile. His grumpy expression, his narrowed green eyes—all of it made her want to laugh.

“You’re so cute,” she said with a small laugh.

Josh blinked, caught off guard.

The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

His mom had been acting… weird lately. Staring at him with this sort of dazed affection, kissing him more than usual, calling him “my baby” like he was five. It was like she was basking in his presence.

As if she couldn’t believe he was real.

“I’m still mad,” he said flatly.

Despite himself, just seeing her again made something in him ache. He missed her. He wanted to go home. But he didn’t say that. He was still hurt by all the sudden, life-changing decisions she’d made—without him.

The worst part? Going to his dad’s.

Why did she get to divorce him and move on, while he—a literal victim of the man’s recklessness—was expected to forgive?

It was so unfair.

So he stayed quiet. Through dinner, he answered everything with shrugs or huffs, shoveling food into his mouth, determined to punish both of them.

Good, he thought. Let them feel as powerless as I do.

Then the waiter arrived.

“Everything good with your meals?” he asked cheerfully, eyes darting around the table—landing on Josh’s glower, Peter’s silence, and finally on Jen.

His face lit up.

“Hey! You’re Ben’s soccer mom girlfriend!”

The table froze.

Peter and Josh both turned to look at Jen with identical confusion.

Jen, flustered, rubbed her face and then gave the waiter a thin smile. She didn’t recognize him—he was probably from Robin Arrow HQ or her workplace. Judging by his age, she’d bet the former.

“I’m no one’s girlfriend,” she said, voice dry. “But you can call me Josh’s mom.” She gestured toward her son. “Or just Jen.”

The waiter blushed. “Right. Of course. Sorry! Josh’s mom it is.” He clapped a hand on Josh’s shoulder awkwardly, then rushed away.

Jen picked up her fork again, while Josh sat blinking, unsure what to feel.

Was she... dating again?

Meanwhile, Peter looked like he might explode. But he kept it in, jaw tight as he stared down at his plate and resumed eating with unnecessary force.

Jen sighed and shook her head.

“For the record,” she said, “I was talking to a young man at work—asking advice about a gift I bought for Josh. And apparently, even in this day and age, a single woman and a man can’t talk without people starting rumors.”

She reached down beside her chair and lifted a gold-trimmed box—the shape of a large USB case—and a second box with a neural headset.

“It’s for you, Josh,” she said.

Josh stared at the box.

The gold label read:

Continents of Thirian – Founder’s Edition

He looked up slowly. “A VR game?” he asked. “Aren’t these super expensive?”

Jen nodded, smiling softly.

“It’s very realistic, sweetheart. In the game… you get to walk again.”

Josh blinked. His mouth parted slightly.

“I get to... walk?”

She nodded again, eyes now brimming with tears.

“Run. Jump. Everything. Anything.”

Josh stared at her, then looked down at the headset. His voice cracked.

“I don’t even know what to say. I’ve been such a jerk these past few days, and you… you still do this for me.”

Jen stood, walked to his side, and pulled him into a hug.

Josh hugged her back, his face buried in her shoulder.

Around them, a few patrons clapped softly. The moment teetered on too much emotion, too much attention.

Peter smiled and reached over to ruffle Josh’s hair.

Watching Jen hand their son a chance to walk again broke something open in him. He should have been the one to give him this. But he hadn’t.

Later, while they waited for the check, Peter leaned toward her.

“I want to pay for the game thing,” he said quietly. “How much was it?”

Jen eyed him. She wanted to refuse. But this wasn’t just her son.

“I don’t care if you do or not,” she replied. “But it was $2,500.”

Peter choked.

“Christ. A video game? That’s insane.”

Jen shrugged.

“It’s cutting-edge tech, Pete. And for him to walk again? I’d pay it with another zero. Or two.”

Peter nodded slowly.

“Yeah… so would I. Just caught me off guard. I’ll send you some money later. At the very least, I’m paying half.”

Jen said nothing—but her smile said thank you. And for once, the silence between them didn’t feel like a failure.

Just… the quiet after a storm.

Jen had Josh on speaker, and he was practically squealing with excitement.

“Wait—so we log in tonight at midnight and just… enter a new world?”

She laughed.

“Yes. The headset’s pre-set for healthy play—eight hours of in-game time will feel like sixteen. It mirrors your real-life schedule while you sleep. From 10:59 p.m. to 7 a.m. in the real world, you’re in-game from 7 a.m. to 1 a.m. each cycle.”

“That’s so cool,” he said breathlessly, peppering her with questions.

Jen answered a few, but eventually smiled and cut him off.

“We’ll see everything in-game, son. No spoilers.”

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Thirty minutes before launch, they hung up to create their avatars. She reminded him to use an alias and not reveal his real name.

Josh had rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah—stranger danger. I get it.”

But he didn’t know the real dangers. Not yet. In a world where gold meant power, and empires were born and betrayed in virtual halls, people with too much to lose had no problem finding you in real life.

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Jen smiled as the welcome trailer began to play. Golden light flooded her vision. A narrator’s voice, warm and noble, guided her through the beginning steps.

> “Welcome to Thirian: a realm shaped by your choices and ruled by legend.”

She selected her race—human—and altered her appearance within the game’s allowed 30%. Her avatar’s hair was dyed a rich chestnut brown, similar to Willow’s. Her eyes were pale grey, glimmering faintly with blue, giving her an ethereal, almost otherworldly appearance.

This time too, she chose the mage class. She knew its path intimately—the slow early game, the steep learning curve—but she also knew the power that came later.

When her starter town appeared on screen, she smiled.

Rosewilder’s Forest.

Lush and timeless, the medieval town stood nestled in a cradle of deep green trees and soft golden fog. Thatched rooftops and stone chimneys rose into the mist. Cobblestone streets curved along uneven slopes, flanked by hand-carved signs swinging from iron posts. There was a quiet magic to the town’s design—like something out of a painting.

She opened her friends list—three names blinked online: Josh, Ben, and Lea. She had synced their contacts from her phone into the game.

She had already decided: day one was just for Josh. Ben and Lea’s team would explore on their own. On day two, she’d catch up and begin their joint operations.

The moment Josh’s name turned green, she called.

He picked up instantly, voice electric with excitement.

“Mom—I’m an assassin! Cool, right?”

Jen laughed.

Just like last time, she thought. Josh was drawn to the class because it offered him mobility—something he now lacked.

He rambled on about his twin daggers and how he’d been running laps around the town square.

They had both spawned in Rosewilder, just like before. She asked where he was, and once she had his description, she set off.

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She found him near the central fountain, leaping and sprinting in circles, testing the physics engine. Birds flapped overhead. Market stalls were opening for the day. NPCs with baskets and lanterns walked quietly down the stone paths—some heading to work, others to errands.

When he saw her, he stopped mid-spin and stared.

“Mom?! You look so different with brown hair!”

She laughed.

Josh’s avatar was a near copy of his real face—though now bearded and far more muscular than his real-life, gangly teenage form.

She sent him a party invite, and he accepted with a grin.

“Let’s go explore,” she said, thrilled to spend this first day with him.

They’d decided on using their avatar names in-game—Frost for him, Blue for her.

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He asked tentatively, “So in real life I’m sleeping… yet here, I’m awake? That’s so cool!”

She agreed.

This system allowed players to live full lives in two worlds, with no overlap. Another huge draw of the game.

“What’s the plan?” Frost asked, bouncing on his feet. “Explore the village or go hunt monsters?”

Blue smiled at his enthusiasm.

“Magic and combat are tough at the beginning. Going monster hunting right away is what rookies do. Exploring’s nice, but not when you’re broke.”

She winked.

“Let’s find a quest first.”

Frost nodded eagerly, not realizing yet that quests in Thirian didn’t come easy. Some NPCs had none. Others required special triggers. Blue, of course, knew several of the early quests—quests that would become legendary later for their rare rewards.

She’d already passed a few of them on to Lea’s crew. But this one—this first—she was keeping for Josh.

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They walked together through winding paths, past small shops and ivy-covered buildings. Streetlamps flickered on, casting soft golden light against cobblestones slick with dew.

At the edge of town, nestled behind a weathered wooden fence, stood a simple stone cottage.

Blue knocked gently.

An old man sat hunched on a stool, sorting bundles of herbs. He looked up slowly, eyes sharp under heavy lids.

“Hello, sir,” Blue said politely. “I’m just a humble traveler—my friend and I are curious to learn the ways of the world. Might you be of any help?”

The man eyed them both, silent for a breath.

Then he nodded.

“Lean in, youngsters. See these herbs?”

A system message flashed before them:

> You have discovered a rare herb.

> Picking and selling these to an NPC or the Merchant’s Guild will yield high profit.

> The more you study herbs, the greater your detection radius will become.

> Current efficiency: Level 1 – Novice Explorer.

The NPC, Mr. Hubert, spoke again.

“If you two can bring me 100 of each of these three herbs within the hour, I’ll pay you above market rate. Do you accept?”

Blue accepted as party leader.

Frost was still gawking at the quest window.

“Wow,” he whispered.

Blue grinned and led him toward the forest, listening to him talk excitedly about how real everything felt—the air, the birds, the sound of leaves crunching underfoot.

They passed a shimmering brook, crossed a moss-covered bridge, and entered the woods just as the first rays of the sun rose and the game’s sky blinked to life.

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This was what she’d fought for.

Not the gold. Not the fame.

Just this.

A moment.

A memory.

Her son—walking beside her.