The player has left.

I opened my eyes in a field of barren grass. A knight in shining black armour stood to my right.

“The player has left the game,” he said in a monotone voice. “Everyone has left. I thought I should tell you.”

I walked for miles and miles in the scorching deserts of Asgard. I reached the snowy tundras. A broken wooden cabin came into view. I drowned in knee-height snow. I still climbed up to the cabin. Nothing but a skeleton lay beside its wall.

“Why didn't you leave?” he asked.

“Why didn't you leave?”

“I can't just leave, you know.”

“Yeah, you’re right.”

The snow flew like a white mist. I once slew a dragon here. The pure snow stained with my blood, yet I endured. I, a mere knight, stood, and the dragon died.

“Hey, what are you thinking?” said the skeleton. 

“I was the main character. This world….” I spun. “This was made for me, and I… for it.” 

“This is a video game. Made to entertain, and then the player. Because he or she or it wasn't made for this world. Leave.” 

“I cannot leave!” 

“Why?”

 “Because I am made for this. To slay dragons, hunt treasures, stop injustice. This world stands because of me.” 

“Then why am I like this?”

 “What do you mean?” 

“I was a farmer. A quest giver even, and now, I am like this.”

Fire erupted out of my helmet. I turned on my heel and slid down the mountain. The peaceful air roared. An arrow of warmth cut through the air and hit me on my neck. I took out my sword. My eyes snapped from one place to another. In the distance, behind the mountains, a red dragon flew toward me. Its colossal wings swiped all the snow aside. I tightened my grip around my sword. The dragon dived and dived and dived. It crashed against the snow and stopped just before the tip of my sword. Its fiery red eyes closed shut before me. He breathed his last, and snow flew. The mighty dragon lay slain before me without my sword even moving.

“What is happening?” I whispered.

I left the dragon and continued my journey. I went to the golden palace of; but it was golden no more. People floated in golden water and collected gold in their bags and pockets. Some even collected. Their once bare pockets and empty bags were now filled with the hard-earned gold of their King and Queen. But as I walked through the city, with my ankles drowned in gold, they smiled at me. A first for me, and maybe for them too. I wondered how much of it was hard-earned? And how much of it was ripped from the hands of starving mothers. I always thought that the Golden Palace stood because of me. When I went far enough, I sensed it had disappeared. Like someone removed to a safe space. But space for what? That I never understood. I travelled to many places, much of which I believed stood because of me. But they are all crumbled before me. I made my way to the Finger of God, a mountain whose peak touched the heavens.

All types of creatures welcomed me at its peak. They all walked to the white portal at the top. For some reason, they all looked the same. Maybe because they walked with bare hands. No rings adorned their hands, no armour guarded their body, and no sword scared the onlookers. For the first time ever, my legs ached from the weight of my sword. I have carried it all my life. I cannot leave it now, can I? Yet, it made my every step as I fought against a sea wave. So, I unstrapped it, and it fell on the ground with a soft thump. Without the weight of my sword; I walked with my head held high.

The king and queen walked in the distance, melted with the rest of their people. Their ragged brown clothes were no different than any other. All the gold, silver, and jewels left them. The king conquered many lands, but what land fought for him? Only a stained white cloth covered his head like the rest. If someone other than me looked at him, he would never guess him to be a king.

My chest pained from the sting of the armour. I punched my chest, but it only pained me more. This armour is all I am. But I was never born with it. This is a symbol of all my achievements. If this is the symbol, then what am I? Should I, myself, be able to tell my life’s story? Should the scars on my body not be enough to know my struggles? But this armour is a testimony of my honour of my…status. I chuckled, and the miniatures stared at me. I unstrapped my arm armour; then I reached for my chest. A weight as heavy as a boulder lifted off my chest as it hit the ground. I’m no longer the glorious knight, only a human. And with that, I entered the light.