Pet x Play

The central continent of Vetita is known as Spawn.

It is a toxic wasteland littered with craters and volcanic ash.

Centuries ago, there used to be fruit trees and other vegetation, but decades of griefing¹A griefer or bad faith player is a player in a multiplayer video game who deliberately irritates and harasses other players within the game (trolling), using aspects of the game in unintended ways. (see Wikipedia) and mass destruction turned the entire "beginner" continent into an inhabitable desert poisoned with void magic. These days, it is one of the most dangerous locations on the entire server. New players "spawn" in a two hundred kilometer radius around the <0,0> coordinate, and noob²Newbie, newb, noob, or nub is a slang term for a novice or newcomer, or somebody inexperienced in a profession or activity. (see Wikipedia

) hunters (or "slavers") scour the wastelands looking for easy prey. It is essentially a playground for the elite.

Years ago, I couldn't comprehend the sheer cruelty in the hearts of those twisted veterans.

Honestly, I never imagined that I'd ever willingly come back to this cursed place.

But six years living in a lawless world changed me deep down inside.

Nowadays, I think even senseless and irrational destruction is beautiful in its own way.

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The night sky suddenly burst into a wall of flames.

The inferno blossomed like a giant chrysanthemum flower, and thick plumes of heavy smoke masked the full moon. Muffled screams pierced through the pitch black darkness. Burning cinders drifted towards the skies along with the rising swirls of heat, and I slipped through the raging flames in my stealthy feline form, completely unfazed by the terror that my heartless midnight actions had brought to this place.

An entire section of the underground tunnels was burning.

The fire would smoke the victims out of the subterranean shafts, or else they would perish.

New players who spawn on Vetita often flee into the tunnels. Slavers patrol the skies of this barren continent in airships, and there isn't any fresh water or vegetation on the surface anyways. I actually still remember my first days as a new player on the server, subsisting on cave moss and licking moisture off of stalactites — starving, dehydrated, vomiting because I tripped over a decapitated head, and terrified out of my wits in the darkness.

Every beginner's desperate wish is to escape Spawn.

Around one in every five beginners manage to succeed.

The new players that I found today wouldn't be among the lucky ones.

As they fled from the flames and burst out of the smoke-filled tunnels, my master's slave ship would be lying in wait for them, ready to snatch away their freedom.

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I don't really take pleasure in watching the guards rough up the victims, so I slinked my way to the main bridge while the rest of the mercenaries cleaned up the stragglers and dragged them aboard the airship. There were periodic shouts and shrieks every couple seconds, but I'm so used to this line of work that it's kind of just like background noise.

It's almost been eight months since I've been aboard the Felicity.

It's an ironic name for a crew of slave-trading mercenaries, but my current master really likes cats. He actually treats me pretty well. Apparently, my animal form resembled a pet cat that he used to have back on Earth, so he ended up bidding for me the last time I was sold in an auction.

Since my owner has such an obvious preference for my cat form, these days I spend the majority of my time shapeshifted.

Not all of my previous owners were this way, but I honestly don't mind this. I'm pretty quiet and aloof, and it's easy for me to go for days without saying a single word while pretending to be a real animal.

My master is really easy to understand, and it's easy for me to please him.

Objectively speaking, we have a fairly good bond as "Master" and "Familiar", and our magical synergy is quite favorable. I can cast powerful spells when we are on the same wavelength, and thanks to him I'm currently stronger than I've ever been in my entire life. The benefits are mutual, and I take a little bit of pride in the fact that I'm probably the best familiar he's ever owned.

You could say that I'm relatively satisfied with my current situation.

I was very lucky compared to most others in this world.

Once I find my owner at the airship's helm, I'll usually nuzzle his leg softly and then he'll reach down and place me on his shoulder. He usually doesn't have a lot to say, but it feels nice when he scratches behind my ears. I often end up purring into his chest and sleepily dozing off in his arms while he records the new acquisitions on his accounting book.

Meanwhile, muted cries of misery echo from the ship's dungeon.

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