Runner and company have safely left the city ahead of the siege. Completing their class promotions with barely any time to spare. Unfortunately Runner hasn't discovered the password he needs to begin the logoff process to save the 400,000 or so crewmates left alive in this game where dying truly means death.

Runner has a problem. He and 499,000 men and women are trapped in a game. He also just happens to be the only person from IT who could log everyone out safely. And he doesn't remember his password. He, like everyone else in this nightmare, had his memory scrambled or lost in the process of being loaded into the game. A single garbled message is his only clue to how to save everyone. The problem is that whoever loaded them into the game loaded their minds completely.

Ryker only has one goal in his life right now: Turn a certain adventuring guild into a flaming wreck while dancing merrily through the smoldering ruins. All for the chance to get back at a handful of people. It isn’t as if they didn’t deserve it either. They had driven him from his home. Chased him physically from the very guild house itself. Simply because he wasn’t as strong as they expected him to be. As strong as he’d expected himself to be. He’d returned the next day and left with something he’d hidden away and told no one about when he found it in one of his few Dungeon Dives.

Steve doesn’t know who he is. Or who he was. He doesn’t know anything, actually. Not even where he is. Other than a vast open field of dirt. All Steve knows is that he’s apparently supposed to build a farm. At least that’s his only workable assumption. Given the number of farm-tools left to him. That and the massive number of sacks full of seeds. Unfortunately, this isn’t even the strangest part of this new life. Hidden inside the farm tools, Steve finds messages. Messages that appear in floating windows in front of him.

Sameerixis, or Sam for those who actually know him, isn’t what you’d call normal. He’s a door-to-door salesman, of sorts. One that peddles wares, wishes, and whims to anyone willing to pay his prices. Prices that usually involve a few years of your life, maybe a handful of days, or a single night of pleasure that’ll cost a few hours. He’s an incubus that solves problems. Mental, emotional, spiritual, material, and anything and everything in between. Sam can provide an answer and resolution.