The world of Eidolon Online shimmered to life around Rourke with a slow bloom of light and sound. The login transition was seamless—no loading screens, no menus—just a breath held between one life and another. He stood alone in a forest clearing, surrounded by swaying trees and soft beams of sunlight breaking through the canopy. Birds chirped in the distance, and somewhere nearby, a brook murmured over stones.
Rourke took a steady breath.
His hand hovered in front of him, wrapped in cloth and leather bracers. The avatar matched his real-world physique—tall, lean, forgettable. That had been intentional. He wanted to blend in. No flashy armor, no exotic race or high-ranking guild tag. Just a beginner. Just another player.
Just a Healer.
He clenched his jaw. That part hadn’t been intentional. He’d spent weeks researching optimal starting builds, comparing meta guides, balancing survivability and solo potential. He’d been set on playing a Ranger—fast, mobile, useful in any party.
But when the time came to confirm his class selection, his cursor had slipped. A single misclick, and the system had locked him in as a Healer.
No take-backs. No rerolls. Eidolon Online didn’t believe in hand-holding.
He opened his interface. Two starting skills: Minor Heal, and Cleanse.
Minor Heal was straightforward—small health restoration on a short cooldown, low mana cost. Cleanse removed minor debuffs—poison, bleed, maybe a weak slow.
No damage. No offense. No solo viability.
And yet… no regrets. Not anymore. The choice had been made, and if there was one thing Rourke was good at, it was making bad circumstances work.
He closed the menu and looked around. The forest was peaceful. A wide dirt path cut through the trees, leading toward a distant hill where a plume of chimney smoke marked the nearest NPC village.
His first quest would be there.
He started walking.
The village came into view slowly—a scattering of cottages with thatched roofs, a central well, and a few idle NPCs going about routine tasks. It was simple, grounded, and clearly meant to ease new players into the world without overwhelming them.
Rourke stepped onto the cobbled main road and made his way toward the quest board outside the town hall. A few system-generated messages flickered in his periphery, welcoming him to the region and prompting him to choose a beginner task.
He skimmed them with practiced ease. Most options were mundane: harvest herbs, deliver bread, chase off small animals. He selected a basic one—“Gather Healing Herbs for the Village Apothecary”—and received a system ping.
Quest Accepted: Green for the Weary
Objective: Collect 6 sprigs of Riverroot from the nearby stream.
Reward: Minor Healing Potion x2, Copper x50, XP
If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.
Efficient enough.
He headed back toward the stream he’d seen on the way in, passing a few other new players chatting near the well. None of them spared him a second glance. No one asked to party. He wasn’t flashy, didn’t wear striking armor or carry a huge sword. He looked like what he was—just a healer.
That was fine.
At the water’s edge, he found the Riverroot quickly. It glowed faintly, as most quest herbs did, and he crouched to harvest it with a clean, practiced motion. He moved quickly, letting the calm repetition of the task settle his mind.
By the fifth sprig, he heard the sounds of combat nearby—steel clashing, quick footfalls, a sharp cry.
Rourke straightened and scanned the tree line. About twenty yards away, a figure moved between the trees, bowstring pulled taut. A young woman—slender, dark-haired, focused—was in the middle of a pitched fight against two horned beasts the size of wolves.
She was fast, but her movements were growing ragged. The creatures had already flanked her once, and she was limping.
Rourke didn’t think. He moved.
Rourke approached with cautious speed, keeping to the brush as he closed the distance. The Ranger—he recognized the gear now—loosed another arrow into one of the creatures, but her draw was shaky. Her health bar flickered above her, already deep in the red.
The beasts circled for a final strike.
Rourke stepped into view and raised a hand.
“Hold on!” he called.
The girl glanced toward him, startled. One of the creatures took the opportunity to lunge. Rourke cast Minor Heal, his first time in live combat. The casting time was short, the glow soft and unremarkable—but the effect was instant.
Her health ticked up just enough.
She rolled, caught herself, and loosed an arrow point-blank into the lunging creature’s eye. It screeched and collapsed.
The second beast turned toward Rourke.
He froze.
No weapon. No combat spells. No defenses.
But then the Ranger shouted, “Get down!” and vaulted between them, slashing her dagger across the beast’s flank. It hissed and spun, but she was already moving, loosing another arrow, then another.
Rourke kept casting Minor Heal every time her health dipped.
And slowly—just barely—they won.
The second beast collapsed, twitching once before going still. The glade fell silent again.
Rourke exhaled, his heart thudding.
The Ranger straightened slowly, turning toward him. Her shortbow hung at her side, and her expression was unreadable.
“You a priest or something?” she asked.
“Healer,” Rourke replied, catching his breath. “First day.”
She studied him for a second longer, then gave a short nod. “You kept me alive. That counts.”
She offered a hand. “Lena.”
“Rourke,” he said, accepting the shake.
Her grip was firm, callused. She didn’t look like a newbie, even if her gear was still low-tier. She moved like someone who’d played games like this before, who understood timing and angles and spacing.
“You really a healer?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.
“I really am,” Rourke said. “Accidentally.”
That got a short laugh out of her. “How do you accidentally pick healer?”
“I was going for Ranger. Cursor slipped.”
She nodded sympathetically. “Could’ve been worse. Could’ve clicked Bard.”
They both chuckled at that. A moment of shared humor—nothing big, but it grounded them. Made things real.
“Thanks for stepping in,” she added more seriously. “Wasn’t expecting those things to hit so hard. First time I’ve had to fight alone.”
“I couldn’t do much,” Rourke said, “but it was enough.”
“It was,” she said simply. “That’s what matters.”
He opened his interface again to check his quest progress—five Riverroot collected. One short. He glanced around and spotted another sprig just across the stream.
“I need one more herb for my starter quest,” he said, nodding toward it.
Lena followed his gaze. “The apothecary one?”
“Yeah.”
“Good one to start with,” she said. “I’m heading back to that village too. Mind if we walk together?”
Rourke blinked. “Uh, sure.”
They fell into step, the silence between them no longer awkward.
Just two players—one who almost died, and one who made sure she didn’t.
The village looked different on the way back.
Not because it had changed—but because now, Rourke wasn’t alone.
Lena walked beside him, relaxed but alert, her bow slung over one shoulder. Occasionally, she nudged a pebble from the road with her boot or glanced at the trees. She wasn’t talkative, and Rourke didn’t mind. It gave him time to reflect.
He’d played support roles in other games, but this was the first time it felt… weighty. His contribution wasn’t flashy. He hadn’t turned the tide with damage or burst combos. But without him, she would’ve died. That mattered.
They split briefly at the quest board. Rourke turned in his herbs, received a pair of minor healing potions and enough copper to buy a basic mana tonic. He scanned the board again for follow-ups, but nothing stood out.
Lena met him near the well a few minutes later. “Thinking about another quest?”
“Maybe later,” he said. “I want to take some time to learn my cooldowns, figure out mana pacing.”
She tilted her head. “That’s more thoughtful than most people I party with.”
He smiled faintly. “Well, I already can’t fight. Might as well get good at the only thing I’ve got.”
She studied him for a moment, then gave a short nod. “Listen. I might need a healer again soon. You game?”
Rourke hesitated. Then nodded. “Yeah. I’m in.”
She grinned. “Good. I’ll find you.”
With that, she turned and walked off toward the blacksmith.
Rourke stood there for a moment longer, then opened his spell menu again.
Minor Heal. Cleanse.
That was all.
But maybe it would be enough.
