Echoes of the Past (2)

His smile widened when he heard my response.

My father looked at me with that mischievous grin only he could give. He set his work bag gently on the floor, took off his blazer, and hung it neatly on the coat rack beside the door, which was still ajar behind him. Suddenly, he turned quickly to face me.

"Seven times seven," he said with a sharp, expectant look.

Without hesitation, I answered, "Forty-nine."

He didn't skip a beat: "Eight times eight."

"Sixty-four."

"Twelve times twenty."

"Two hundred and forty."

"One hundred times three hundred and fifty."

"Thirty-five thousand."

"Fifteen percent."

"Five thousand two hundred and fifty."

He paused, as though considering my performance. Then, with that satisfied smile of his, he said, "I see you've been studying for real."

I puffed up with pride. "Obviously! If I want to count all my money, I need to know how to calculate."

"True, true. And as the student of highest merit in your school," he said, his voice laced with pride.

He turned back toward the door, and for a moment, something seemed to linger there—something I couldn't quite see. Then, with a sudden, theatrical movement, my father lifted a large, square object with both hands. I frowned, trying to piece together what was happening. Finally, he turned to face me, revealing what he held.

"Ta-da! Look what your old man managed to get for you!"

The enthusiasm in his voice was unmistakable. In his hands was a computer. Not just any computer—a gaming PC, bold and imposing, decked out with the kind of gear only my father could surprise me with. It was everything I had ever wanted.

My heart pounded in my chest. "Dad… this is incredible! Thank you so much!"

"Thinking about it, that computer was the beginning of everything," my mind began to wander as the memories flowed along with it.

Who would have thought that I, born in Angola, middle class, would end up studying at Oxford because of a gaming PC?

"Funny."

I looked into the void surrounding me, where nothing existed except for the memories and thoughts flashing through my mind. I was isolated, with no concept of time or space, but the memories seemed to be the only real things in this limbo.

—Paths of Ragnarok—... an MMORPG that seemed simple at first glance, yet inexplicably connected me to people who would change my life forever. People who, even now, in this void where I couldn't move, remained vividly present in my mind.

Elizabeth Walker. A Brit with an open mind, vibrant and serious at the same time, with an insatiable passion for history, politics, and everything involving mysteries and archaeology. Always brimming with questions about the world and its deeper layers. The memory of her endless conversations about historical enigmas made me smile, even though I couldn't physically express it.

Benjamin Williams. The headstrong American who, with his impulsive and competitive nature, taught me English and, more importantly, showed me that life wasn't just about excelling in sports or studies but about fighting for the people you truly care about.

"He's an idiot," I thought, "but he's my idiot." He had a way of making even his stubbornness feel like a guiding light, simplifying things in a way only he could. I missed that—the uncomplicated energy he brought.

Midori Shinkai. The shy and kind Japanese girl with a soft, gentle voice, always ready to help others. She had an almost artistic view of life, with an unconditional love for music and painting. The way she was always willing to listen made me feel less alone, even when the world seemed to crumble. She was the one who suggested we all live together, a decision that undoubtedly bonded us in ways none of us had imagined.

Carlos Barbosa. The laid-back, food-loving, and mischievous Brazilian who could turn even the tensest moment into something lighthearted with a joke—or an even bolder joke. Yet, he had a seriousness that emerged in the most unexpected moments, making him stubborn and hard to deal with. I remember how well we got along from the start, speaking the same language—literally and figuratively. He had a unique way of looking at the world, and I always admired that.

'Nicole De La Fontaine.' The initially arrogant Frenchwoman who, over time, revealed herself to be a deeply sincere person—a true friend. Her obsession with money was something we all laughed at, but deep down, we knew that despite everything, she cared deeply about those around her. She was the kind of person who never hid her true self, and in a way, that made us trust her more than anyone else.

Lastly, 'Luca Moretti.' An Italian and my best friend, the first online friend I ever had. He was the one who convinced me to leave my life as a solo player and join a guild. Luca was reserved but could instantly transform into the most extroverted person when he wanted, effortlessly becoming the center of any conversation. He was a genius in some areas and incredibly clueless in others. This blend of qualities fascinated me—his brilliant intelligence tempered by his human flaws. It was a duality that made our friendship even more intriguing.

The most curious thing of all was how we were brought together by a single game. —Paths of Ragnarok—, the game that turned strangers into friends, enemies into allies, and solitude into companionship.

I remember it as if it were yesterday: even though I was a solo player, there were times I had to complete joint missions with other players. And whenever that happened, I would cross paths with the same people. The guild Luca was part of—Round Table—was just a small group back then, a simple party with only five members. Elizabeth and Benjamin were the guild's founders, and I already knew them in the game. We had done missions and dungeons together many times, and honestly, I was tired of Elizabeth's relentless insistence that I join the guild. She was relentless, constantly pestering me. But I categorically refused. Being a solo player had its perks, and I didn't think anything could change my mind. Or so I thought.

By the time I turned 16, I was already a well-respected player in the game. My character was high-level, and a new expansion had been released. The missions became more challenging, and one in particular required a trustworthy party—at least four players. That's how I found myself in a game I hadn't anticipated. Luca, as always, knew exactly how to lure me into his guild. He challenged me to a bet: if I beat him in a duel, he would help me with the mission. If he won, I'd have to join their guild.

It was a simple bet—or so it seemed. Luca, however, had a trick up his sleeve. He used one of the game's most ridiculous items—Thief's King Gloves. This item, in its original form, only had a 0.5% chance of activating a Full Counter, which tripled the damage of an attack and reflected it back at the attacker. A risk, sure, but nothing threatening for a player of my skill level. The problem, as I soon discovered, was that Luca had not only enchanted the item but also upgraded it exclusively for this purpose. He increased the activation chance to 20%, and with his insane in-game luck and character buffs, he had an effective activation chance of 50%.

Using this setup, he activated the Full Counter on my most powerful ability, defeating me with an Insta-Kill. I couldn't do anything—I was completely caught off guard.

'Luca really is a cunning addict,' I thought, remembering that scene with a smile. He had defeated me in such a clever and skillful way that I couldn't help but laugh. In that fight, I had been the perfect target for him to execute that move, and he didn't miss the chance. Suddenly, there I was—a member of Round Table, the seventh and final one to be admitted. Luca had gotten what he wanted, and, in a way, so had I.

'I miss them so much…' But at that moment, I didn't know how much time had passed or if time even existed here. I was alone, and the solitude felt infinite. For the first time, I regretted being so isolated. Perhaps I had grown too used to their company, to the warmth of conversations and the sound of laughter. Now, all that remained was the oppressive silence of this void.

That white, endless, colorless space was now terrifying. The absence of anything physical around me was unsettling. How was my consciousness still here if there was nothing to anchor it? Was this all a dream? Was heaven like this? Or perhaps hell? The sensation of floating, without direction, without a fixed point, made me feel increasingly lost.

'I didn't ask for this.' The phrase echoed in my mind like an endless lament, repeating itself incessantly as if searching for meaning in a place where none existed.

I couldn't find a way to fight against the sensation that I was being erased, as if my very existence was a lie.

'I'd give anything to see them one more time…'