ForeverQuest: Online Battle Arena - A LitRPG Adventure: ForeverQuest, #1

By Alex Maven

Trapped in a vintage fantasy reality, he's a sickly dark elf too weak to lift a weapon. Can he win a brutal battle before he's lethally logged out?

Temor has been an underdog all his lowly life. Obsessed with old-school gaming, he risks his neck to mine virtual currency for the mob. But after he's arrested and awakens inside a simulated online arena… he'll have to fight to the death or watch his sister perish.

Assigned a weakling build in a combat-heavy world with no respawns, Temor relies on his outlandish plans and magical stats to outwit his burly enemies. But with self-aware NPCs, faceless killers, and perilous dungeons standing between him and his sibling, the nerdy smart-aleck plunges headlong toward a permanent game over.

Can the scrappy gamer out-class his foes before his health hits zero?

ForeverQuest: Online Battle Arena is the page-turning first story in the ForeverQuest LitRPG series. If you like everyman heroes, laugh-out-loud humor, and gripping role-playing adventures, then you'll love Alex Maven's nostalgic quest.

Read ForeverQuest to spawn into a nightmare today!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Alex Maven
• Release date: Oct 22, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393307099

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

Temor would be dead in ten minutes.

He'd awoken from unconsciousness by roaring applause. Spotlights danced across the stage and shined into his eyes, forcing him to squint. Confused, he didn't know where he was, but a sinking feeling in his stomach told him it was bad.

He had expected to wake up in the county jail after being arrested. Nothing he wasn't used to. That's how it had always been before. This time, things couldn't have been more different.

Despite being disoriented by the noise and lights, Temor did his best to lift his head and observe his surroundings. There was an entire cheer squad of women in front of him on stage. They had their backs turned to him and were facing a vast audience of onlookers that roared with applause and laughter.

The cheerleaders were all wearing matching Viking-themed cosplay outfits. Carrying foam swords and other medieval props, they twirled around each other in a choreographed dance. The music they danced to sounded fantasy-inspired, an energetic mix of flutes, drums, and other stringed instruments.

Temor groaned at the uplifting music, which was a big contrast to how he felt. His head felt like they had crushed it in a vice, and his body ached all over. He could feel the hardened crust of blood on his forehead where a cop had beaten him with a nightstick. What worried him was the cold metal clamped over his head. He tried to struggle, but they'd restrained his legs and locked his arms with cuffs of steel so tight they bit into his flesh.

They'd immobilized him in a standing position. He tested the strength of the cuffs. Superman couldn't budge them. He felt like he was a victim in some obscure horror movie.

A growing panic threatened to break his sanity until the blaring music died down. He wasn't alone; rows of other victims were all lined around the back wall of the stage with him. Cheerleaders exited the stage, and the audience quieted.

Now he could hear the moans and cries from the other caged-up people. Angry cries of revenge. Cries for mercy, and this all had to be a big mistake. On it went for several minutes, and nobody in the audience seemed to care.

Temor stayed silent.

Taking a deep breath, he thought. There had to be a way out. There was always a way out. Testing the cuffs around his hands one more time, he noticed that while they were tight, the chains they had attached to them had some give.

As his mind cleared, he realized he was still in his street clothes. They hadn't put him into a jumpsuit.

He reached into his pockets and felt around for something, anything, that could help him. He felt only lint and strings at first, but then his fingers brushed across the familiar contours of a hairpin.

Weird.

He never carried them with him, he had no reason to, his hair was cropped short. Maybe it was his sister's hairpin, and he'd picked it up on his way out the door. Could the people running this cruel show be so stupid as to not search him? Had no one been searched? Or maybe they were that confident in the armored security around them. They could catch any runners.

Either way, he decided this was his chance to escape wherever they'd taken him. He dragged the hairpin out of his pocket, drawing no attention to himself, and worked at the lock. He had gotten the hairpin into the lock when a thunder of fireworks burst from the stage, making him jump. The sound slammed into his eardrums, worsening the pain in his pounding head.

He tried to ignore what was happening all around him and concentrate. But then a peculiar-looking clown came somersaulting onto the stage. Violins squealed with fast-paced drumming following right behind. The music score tickled a nasty familiarity at the back of his brain, and Temor shuddered involuntarily.

He'd cut himself off from all popular culture after 2025 when the bombs had hit and turned the world upside down, but there was no mistaking that music. He knew where he was, and it was far worse than anything he could have imagined.

The clown was all belts and buckles with a purple mohawk fanned to one side and an outfit designed with an interlocking pattern of purple and gold. She was a frightening mix of steampunk, classic punk, and suicide clown. Her look was completed with white face paint and heavy black eyeshadow. Temor recognized her.

The drumming ended, and an overly enthusiastic voice boomed over the intercom.

Ladies and gentlemen! Welcome to the battle rally!

Confetti burst from cannons on stage, and the crowd went wild.

Allow me to proudly introduce you to your hostess of this evening's rally. You all know her well. She is an Illusionist with not only one but five ForeverQuest arena championships under her belt. Your lady of the night, Rook!

Temor knew that the clown standing only a few feet from him was a mascot for death. She was jumping up and down with her hands now raised in the air pumping up the crowd. Right before she sent them all straight to hell. A large neon sign flashed to life that read: ForeverQuest's Multiplayer Online Battle Arena.

Rook took a few moments to soak up her fame before yanking the microphone off the stand at center stage. She banged the top with her wand to quiet the crowd.

All right, boys and girls! Ladies and beef-caked lady men! You're all in for a genuine treat tonight. Tonight's battle to the death in the most immersive virtual reality world will be extra special. Do you know why?

She held out her microphone to the crowd, who responded with a swell of applause, laughter, screams, and whistling.

Well, we all know that after 2025 it got crowded on our insignificant little planet. A little crazy, you might say, and some people, well, some people don't know how to play nice. That's why we have rules, people! If you break the rules... Well, you know where you go if you break the rules.

Rook winked at the audience, and the room filled with snickering.

Just like our wonderful society, the world of ForeverQuest continues to grow and change. So to celebrate the upcoming expansion, tonight's battle will take place among a full-out war!

More cannons.

More confetti.

The crowd went wild.

Once the confetti settled, the multicolor lights turned a dark blue and followed Rook as she paced the stage.

Some of you might think what we do here at the Ortem corporation is cruel. That forcing hardened criminals to fight to the death for the amusement of ForeverQuest's fanboys is wrong. That it shows how far we've fallen from decency as a species. Rook pouted and mock cried. And to those of you out there that feel that way, I say to you...

The crowd waited. The room got silent.

She stuck out her tongue, puffed out her cheeks, and made a fart noise.

Everyone laughed, and Temor couldn't believe it. They would fry their brains and force their digitally copied selves to fight for a chance to live forever in ForeverQuest. The most popular MMVIORPG or Massive Multiplayer Virtual Immersive Online Role Playing Game, and no one cared!

He only knew of ForeverQuest because everybody did; there was no escaping it. And unlike the other online gaming competitions his sister loved to watch, this one was life and death.

He could feel the tumbler of the lock with the hairpin, and with a little more time, he might make a break for it. Did he risk leaving his sister alone? He had no way of knowing if they had gotten her to. He wanted to think there was no way they could have. He'd distracted the cops and given her enough time to make a run for it. Hadn't he?

Rook took out a piece of paper and squinted down at it. Then she read out the text in a monotone voice, Let's see here, the rules are simple. One hundred players spawn in random locations within the arena. Yadda... yadda... yadda. They get to choose their race and their class... Don't need to hear about that. Boring. Ah, each person can join a group of up to five different players. But, no one can leave the group once they join one. The game continues until there is only one group left standing, or-

She stopped mid-sentence, yawned, ripped up the piece of paper, and dropped it to the ground. Enough about the rules. We all know how the arena works. Let's talk about the fun part. Let's talk about the losers. Rook rubbed her hands together, and the crowd cheered. All players who are killed in the online arena, their mind will be wiped of their lack-luster personality. Then they'll respawn in the main game world as non-player characters. NPC's for you non-nerds out there. And all you wonderful fans will be able to interact with them to receive all sorts of goodies, maybe even a fetch quest or two.

Temor's heart skipped a beat when the lock of his restraints popped open. He had to decide now before it was too late.

Now tonight, we have one more little surprise for you. A celebrity guest that we'll be revealing after a quick commercial break, so don't go anywhere. Rook pointed and winked to the camera as the arena theme song blared up.

CHAPTER 2

As soon as the lights dimmed, signaling they were off the air, the clown turned on her heel and stormed towards Temor. Rook banged Temor on the side of the helmet clamped over his head, and there was a dull metal ting. Temor winced at the throbbing pain.

She gripped him by the shoulders and got right up in his face. Her heady perfume filled Temor’s nose. Hello friend, I see you are finally awake! I have an especially delightful surprise for you today. Consider it a nice little payback for being such a wonderful customer at one of my fine establishments.

Temor scowled and spit in her face. Rook stood there and blinked a moment. She wiped the spittle from her face before cackling like a crazy manic pixie girl.

Ooh, what a ladies' man you are! Rook said with a grin. She pulled the glasses from Temor’s face and snapped them in half before tossing them to the ground. You’re not going to need those where you’re going.

Temor knew he shouldn’t push his luck, but he would not let this sociopath in a Halloween costume talk down to him. So get on with it already. What are you waiting for? You want me there, push the button. Send me to the arena.

Oh, I will, but you should know I can do much worse than that. She leaned in close and whispered in his ear. You’re a nobody, do you understand that? One little malfunction… she tapped the top of his helmet, …and you die where you stand before you even get a chance to enter the arena. No one would care. So if you don’t mind, I’m going to take all the time I want, because unlike you, I’m a somebody. She pulled a leather wallet out of her pocket that looked like it was about to disintegrate.

Temor was taken aback. So they’d checked his pockets. "They fingerprinted you when you were brought in. Age twenty-three, no surviving parents, collects action figures... so on and so forth. Boring. But when I saw this, I just couldn’t help but laugh. She opened the wallet, pulled out a picture ID, and flashed it in Temor’s face.

I know what that says.

Well, why don’t you tell me.

Temor rolled his eyes. You read it.

And she was laughing again. Your identification card. It says Temor. No surname, no middle name, just Temor. But that isn’t your name, is it.

Temor knew she was toying with him. What’s it to you?

My ongoing amusement, of course. Now, as an alias, it doesn’t do you much good for anything. Can’t be getting pulled over and handing over an ID that says ‘Temor’ now, can you? With a name like that, they’d bring you in for questioning instantly. So I want to know. What’s it for? What does it… she spread out her arms to her sides like a first-year drama student. …what does it all mean? She got on her knees in front of him and pretended to beg. Oh really, please, Temor tell me what’s it really mean?

It was my gaming name.

Your gaming name? she scoffed. You mean those archaic things with handles and buttons?

Temor sighed. If he didn’t play along with her, she might never leave, and he’d lose his chance to escape. My tabletop roleplaying game handle. I didn’t choose my birth name, but I chose that one. It’s me.

Rook looked at him with genuine curiosity. Tabletop?

You play with pen, paper, dice, and imagination.

Imagination… Rook said, letting the word hang in the air.

I never thought I’d meet someone as crazy as me and so naïve. To think you almost made me forget why I came over here. No matter, I have my own little game to play. She bounced back and spun in a circle. And I love games, especially when they involve…imagination. She giggled. You should know that I watched the security footage at Rook’s Internet Cafe. Seeing you topple over every computer in the place was inspiring. Her tone of voice turned from playful to ominous. So I thought, what can I do to my dear friend Temor in return? After all, that was my most favoritest cafe of the whole bunch!

Temor scoffed. You don’t care about that place.

She smiled. Of course not, but let’s imagine that I do. Rook said and tapped her forehead.

I thought, why not destroy something of yours? She paced in front of him in mock thought. I had already gone to the liberty of burning down your entire apartment complex. But somehow, it just wasn’t enough. After all, you’d only been renting one tiny tinderbox.

Temor gritted his teeth. He had worked his butt off to pay rent for that dump.

She stepped closer. I went back to the blurry camera footage. Funny thing is, I saw something there that I hadn’t before. A little mousy thing in the corner of the screen tucked behind some wreckage….

Temor’s heart stopped. You didn’t-

Sssh, Rook cut him off. My fun time gang found her soon enough. It really didn’t take much. I mean, did I tell you we burned down your apartment? Where was she going to go? she giggled again.

You’re lying.

Oh, really? Why don’t you look for yourself?

Rook looked to a light slowly panning over the prisoners. Then the light pointed at the big screen where their faces were being displayed along with some worthless trivia about them. Trivia that the show producers had probably made up. Even without his glasses, Temor could make out their broken, terrified faces.

Keep watching… Keeping watching... Keep watching… Now! Rook snapped her fingers.

And there she was. It was his sister, there was no mistaking it. Brown hair. Small childish features. She was only fifteen. She had barely hit puberty, and they would send her to fight to the death!

And now the fun part. You have a choice, Temor. You can use the hairpin I put in your pocket, unlock your shackles, and run for it. Who knows? Maybe you’ll break out in time to see your sister die on national television. Or you can stay and fight in the arena with her and try to save her with your teeny-tiny, minuscule, basically zero chance of winning.

Before he could respond, she’d skipped away from him. The arena theme music stopped, and she picked up the microphone again. Another fake smile was plastered onto her face. She’d given him the hairpin. Everything in here was a sick game. Did he expect to get out of here? There had to be guards. He had seen none of them, but there was no way they’d have a hundred prisoners locked up with no one to watch them with a gun.

Every part of him wanted to run, anyway. Take his chance, however small. But he couldn’t. He had to save his sister. Everything that evil clown had told him he’d prove wrong. He would save her.

There was a scuffle to Temor’s left. One prisoner had freed himself and ran towards the exit. A loud bang erupted from where the audience was sitting, making the crowd gasp and scream. Temor caught the flash of muzzle fire out of the corner of his eye. He saw the prisoner drop to the floor, somehow knowing that the man was dead before he’d hit the ground.

That could have been him now, lying in a pool of his own blood. Had Rook given all the prisoner’s hairpins? She must have known that anyone that got out of their bonds would be immediately shot down. She’d made a bet with herself on how many she could kill before the games even began. And she would be the one running the arena. What other mind games would she play on him? On them all?

The clown laughed again, a shrill, terrifying sound that burned itself into Temor’s mind. That was the last thing he remembered before his whole world went black.

CHAPTER 3

Temor came to on his stomach. He became disoriented and struggled to breathe. Fingers digging into the mud, he tried to suck in a breath and figure out which way was up. After several failed attempts to make it to his feet, Temor rolled over and vomited.

He laid in a heap for a long while until his dizziness and nausea dissipated. Temor rolled onto his back and looked up at the sky. His brain felt like he had stayed up all night cramming for a test.

Everywhere hurt.

He raised his hands in front of his face and could feel the thick leather gloves he’d been rubbing against his skin. Everything was so real. He could smell the mud and the earthy scent of the forest pine needles all around him.

Except, everything was more vivid and seemed more alive than reality itself. It was as if Temor had needed glasses all his life and had put them on for the first time. The colors were brighter, the contrasts sharper. He could hear birds chirping. He rubbed his fingers together, felt his face. He almost couldn’t believe that none of this was real.

He’d survived the transition, but not everyone would have. He guessed that a tenth of the contestants were already dead, and he prayed that his sister wasn’t one of them.

Temor knew that visiting a virtual reality was one thing, but transferring your entire consciousness was another. But despite the death and destruction that he knew lay before him, he couldn’t help but smile. He had made it.

There was a crunch and a snap of twigs nearby that brought him out of his thoughts. He scrambled onto his stomach and buried himself in the tall grass around him.

He held his breath.

The sound was getting closer, and Temor recognized it now as footsteps. They were close to him. There had to be more than one person out there, but he couldn’t guess the number and didn’t dare look up from his hiding place.

Temor was in no condition to fight and had no intention of dying before the game even began.

A low voice growled in annoyance, You said you heard something, Mav?

A nasal voice replied, Well, I thought I might have.

Thought? the other stranger replied. You should know that your job isn’t to think, idiot. You couldn’t count to ten if I stabbed you ten times. Let’s get back to Bat before he chucks us down a well.

But there ain’t any wells in this place...

You don’t know that, we’ve barely been here an hour! Besides, even if there weren’t any wells, Bat would dig one just to chuck us down it. Now let’s go!

The sounds of the two goons faded away, and Temor let out a stifled breath he’d been holding. Sitting up on his knees, he hung his head.

He was screwed.

He didn’t have a group. He knew nothing about this world. He’d never played a virtual reality game before. He’d never killed anyone.

He looked at his gloved hand again. There was a slight tremor to it, but he clenched it into a fist. This wasn’t the time to be afraid. Not now. His sister could be here. And had she survived the transition, he had to find her before they killed her, or worse.

He figured there must be an interface or something. But how to pull it up?

Getting to his feet, he looked for a button. He pulled off one of the leather gloves he’d spawned with and examined his hands for any weird marks. He was taken aback when the pasty white hand he had been expecting to see was instead a deep charcoal grey color. Was he a dark elf?

He pressed various parts of his hand, trying to get to the gaming interface. That did nothing, and neither did the weird hand motions he felt stupid trying. Getting frustrated, he refrained from screaming out loud, ‘just open, you stupid interface!’

An enormous screen popped up and filled the entirety of his vision. The virtual screen caused him to recoil backward. He lost his footing and tumbled back down a small hill.

He twisted and rolled head over heels until he landed with a thud in a mangled pile up against a tree. He noticed his health bar at that moment because it dipped. It was blinking a pale red in the upper left-hand corner of his vision. There also seemed to be a stamina and magic bar there as well.

Here he was once again in the mud, exhausted and in throbbing pain. The interface still blinded him, and he still didn’t know how he’d gotten it to pull up.

He thought about what he’d done. It wasn’t the hand motions.

Interface off, he mentally commanded. The screen disappeared.

Interface on, he mentally commanded. It popped back up.

He smiled. Interface off.

He was getting the hang of mentally controlling the interface as it bent to his will. There was a slight pause between when he thought of the word ‘interface’ with a certain forcefulness and when the screen appeared in front of his vision.

Untangling himself from the tree, he hoisted himself to his feet. Even with the interface closed, he could still see his health, stamina, and magic bars. His health bar was no longer blinking, but he saw it had dropped to 85% from the fall.

Interface on.

He looked over his stats.

Name: Temor

Race: Dark Elf

Class: Crypt Knight

There was a tab labeled ‘Lore,’ where Temor assumed he could find more detailed information about the classes, races, and world. He ignored it for now and just read the small summary describing a Crypt Knight as a primary fighting class with some death magic abilities.

His heart sank.

This was beyond bad. He’d played enough games to know for sure.

CHAPTER 4

He was supposed to have been given a choice of race and class when he’d entered the game. That freaking clown must have overridden the character creator selection part of the game for him. Rook had forced him into this horrible race and class combination.

He continued to read the Lore tab on his virtual interface. The Dark Elf race was a magical race and didn’t have the strength to do his class justice. That the Crypt Knight had any magical capacity at all had to have been a real joke to Rook.

Temor’s eyes darted quickly to his stats.

Health: 16/18

Stamina: 30/36

Mana: 50/50

Strength: 5/25

Constitution: 9/25

Dexterity: 7/25

Wisdom: 9/25

Intelligence: 25/25

Charisma: 6/25

He swore to himself. Rook hadn’t lied about screwing him over. He was so weak he couldn’t even use his starting equipment. He figured the race-class combination had to be the worst in the game. The evil clown had ensured his failure. The only saving grace she gave him was his name.

Dejected, Temor turned to his inventory. He’d spawned with some starting gear. A set of crude leather armor, a two-handed sword, cracked bread, water, and a bedroll in his inventory. That was it, and yet it showed he was already encumbered. He finally noticed the penalty icon up in the right-hand corner of his screen.

Notification: You are overweight, your speed is slowed by 50%, and your ability to block attacks is lowered by 10 points.

He could only carry 90 pounds of equipment at a time, and his 60-pound rusty greatsword had pushed him over the edge by 15 points.

Temor pulled his hair and bit his tongue to keep from crying. ‘Seriously? Is there anything else you want to pile on me!’

He rubbed his face and blew out a breath before looking over his spells. Magic was his only real option, and Temor had two spells available to him.

Life Drain: Use the power of death to suck the life from the living.

Damage: 3

Healing Power: 3

Mana Requirement: 3 Points

Cooldown: 10 seconds

Summon Skeletal Familiar: With death, you’re in good company.

Cooldown: none

Mana Requirement: 45 Points

Required item: 2 Bone chips.

He wanted to try them both out, but he had no bone chips for his summoning spell. After memorizing Life Drain, Temor set out to find some weak monster he could practice on.

If he leveled up his pathetic stats, he might stand a chance. He needed some combat experience and fast. It would be great if he could grind out a level or two. He looked all around him and found nothing; the place seemed desolate.

Temor walked for a while and made his way through the underbrush looking for prey. Finally, in the middle of a clearing, he saw something slithering amongst the grasses. It looked like a snake but was way bigger than any snake you would have found in the real world. He had to be careful.

As he got closer, some information flashed above it.

Notification: Grass Snake: Level 1

It was only level 1, but it sure seemed intimidating enough. Temor had to beat it. As quietly as he could, he got in range and zapped the thing with his Life Drain spell.

The spell only cost 3 magic out of the 50 mana he’d started with. That was good.

He thought he could make the race-class combo work by focusing on strengthening his spells. Could he overcompensate for his weak strength by doubling down on the insignificant amount of magical power that his class possessed?

The spell hit the snake but seemed to do nothing more than get its attention. The snake hissed and turned on Temor.

Temor’s magic remained full, but so did the snake’s health. The spell had only dropped the snake to 95% of its health. It rushed towards him and leaped into the air, sinking its fangs into his shoulder.

Notification: You have taken critical damage.

Temor’s health dropped to 50%.

Temor panicked. How could a level 1 creature do so much damage in a single hit? He threw the snake off and tried to equip his rusty, greatsword.

A warning message appeared.

Notification: This sword isn’t set in stone, but you still can’t lift it. This weapon requires a minimum strength of twelve to wield.

The weapon still appeared in his hands, but it dropped immediately to the ground and pulled him down.

Temor hunched over with the sword handle in his grip. He cursed under his breath and yanked on it with both hands as hard as he could. The weapon didn’t budge.

CHAPTER 5

The snake pounced on Temor a second time, knocking him away from the greatsword.

He landed flat on his back with the snake on top of him. The sword was still on the ground, now far out of his reach, but it didn’t matter since he couldn’t wield the stupid thing.

The snake twisted around him in a vice-like grip.

Temor tried to cast Life Drain again, but it wouldn’t fire.

Notification: Warning - Your spell has a cooldown of 10 seconds. It can’t be recast right now.

Sweat beaded on his forehead. He’d be dead in a hurry if he didn’t think of something fast. He gripped the snake with his free hands and roared in anger. His hands glowed red.

An intense heat washed over his fingertips, and he could smell burning flesh. The snake let out a throaty hiss of pain and released him.

Notification: You have learned a new spell! You have used Death Touch for 50 damage.

Death Touch can only be used once every four hours, and remember to never use it when you go to the bathroom.

Temor felt hope for the first time but lost it when he saw the snake slither away into the grass, its health at 5%. The bastard was running away!

Temor needed those experience points.

He took the opportunity, given he wasn’t encumbered, to chase the snake. He could immediately feel his increased agility, lept onto the thing, and caught the end of its tail. It whipped around to face him.

Temor got a glimpse of its angry white eyes and bloodied fangs before the snake sank them deep into his arm. The snake punctured right through his leather armor.

He gasped in pain and watched his health bar drop to 10%. This was his last chance if he would survive.

With his free arm, Temor tried to launch Life Drain at the snake, but his spell fizzled. His heart pounded, and he tried again. It fizzled.

One more desperate attempt, and the spell popped off.

Notification: Your spell has done critically mediocre damage.

Temor didn’t care because it was enough.

The snake died.

Temor shook off the dead snake carcass and climbed to his feet, cradling his wounded arm. He looted the snake for everything it had. He found elk meat. Nice, considering he’d pulled it off a snake.

This game was stupid.

The lowest-level creature in the game had almost killed him. He was too weak to even wield his starting weapon. His spells had massive cooldowns….

Crap. Crap. Crap.

There was so much he needed to do. Grind out quests, increase his stats, and find a weapon he could swing. He needed to find his sister before they butchered her.

He also needed to find a group, but who would join him at this point? He

Reviews for ForeverQuest

[Wyatt Smith · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

The premise behind this book is that in the future there has been some cataclysm and entertainment is virtual. However, human life is not considered important so whomever annoys the powers that be can be forced into a virtual reality game in which, if they die, their minds are wiped and they become NPC's.
The main character is Temor (he uses his gaming name rather than his given name) and he seems to have annoyed quite a few people. He is sent into the VR game with the worst possible character combination. Also, his summoned minion is annoying (I'm being polite), not just to Temor but in general. Everything goes wrong for Temor as he goes from bad situations to worse situations. Oh, of course, he has to find his sister before she can be killed in the game and mind-wiped.
Temor is not a likeable character, neither is is minion, neither is anybody else he encounters, so it is rather difficult to feel empathy for anybody and get drawn into the book initially. If you stick with it it worth it in the end...