Far away from Clochglas, deep in the Ironsalt Wastelands, the Decay sat and rocked himself back and forth on the floor of his Fortress. His trademark silver mask lay discarded on the floor next to him, a reminder of an identity he did not want. The interlopers had gone, had left with their iron tools and their bags of salt, but the pain still lingered.

He raised his hand and gingerly touched his face, checking for wounds he knew would not be there. After all, NPCs and Champions alike did not have the capacity to sustain wounds after taking damage. He still checked anyway. He had been making more of these pointless gestures lately. Perhaps it was remnants left over from when the Creator had made him, knowledge of another world imprinted on his mind.

His HP was low, but not low enough to die and respawn somewhere else. They had made sure that he couldn’t die before they gave up asking him for answers he did not have.

That, and that blasted Overpower skill that all Chosen Ones had. They’d taken all measures to make sure he did not escape before they got what they wanted.

How long had they tried before they gave up this time? It felt like moons. He certainly hoped that it was not moons. If it had been moons, that would mean he had missed his appointment.

His bet with Princess Rosa.

For the nth time in his short life, he felt a twinge of jealousy towards the Chosen Ones. Unlike the Chosen Ones, and even the world around him, the NPCs had been born whole, the first of the Creator’s works to be completely finished. All their senses were intact, and that included pain.

The Creator had emphasised that all would be fair at the very end, but would it really? The Decay had to wonder. The Chosen Ones were named Chosen Ones for a reason. They had been given everything they could want from this incomplete world.

From the distance, he felt the twinge of a familiar connection come into range. A wave of panic washed over him. The Briar Princess was coming.

If Rosa was coming…

He shook his sluggish mind awake and leapt up from the floor, dashing over to the chests in the corner and helping himself to the HP potions he had kept stashed away there. Thankfully, the Chosen Ones hadn’t taken all of them when they left, leaving some for him to guzzle down. He couldn’t afford to look dishevelled in front of her, lest she end up doing something foolish again.

He tidied up the room, refilling the chests with gear that he knew Rosa would be checking for, making sure that nothing was out of place. Fortunately, the Chosen Ones had not seen fit to trash his room along with the rest of him, so he had more time to prepare himself mentally instead of cleaning up.

The connection came closer and closer, till it stopped outside his window. A polite rapping came from the glass, a big contrast to the crash when TrixNoct had kicked down his door. He unconsciously scoffed at the difference between the so-called Chosen Ones and Rosa. At least Rosa knew manners.

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As soon as the thought came, however, he stamped it down. No… he shouldn’t think that way. They had a reason to be angry, after all.

He opened the window and Rosa stepped in, as perfect and dainty as always.

“Rosa!” he laughed awkwardly, rubbing his hands together. “Aha…Good to see you…”

“Good to see you too, dear brother,” Rosa rolled her eyes and flounced past him. She put on an air of casualness, but the Decay knew that she was watching his every move carefully.

He followed her around as she inspected his belongings, belongings that he’d already taken care to make sure were all in place. She rifled through his chests, seeming to take care not to make a mess of his things, before closing them with a hum.

She stared him down, clearly checking his status for any discrepancies in his HP. He stared back as confidently as he could, twiddling his fingers nervously behind his back.

Finally, she seemed satisfied. With a great sigh, she slouched down on his throne and kicked her legs up on the armrest.

“Pandering to those Chosen Ones is so much of a bother,” she complained. “I don’t know how Father expects me to give every single one of them my undivided attention and adoration.”

“Do they call for you often?” he asked hesitantly, trying to ease himself naturally into the conversation.

“Every single minute. Rosa this, Rosa that, Rosa can I lick your feet,” she grumbled. “What’s worse is that I have to pretend I’m enjoying it and flirt at them. I swear, they’re all despicable!”

“That sounds terrible…”

“It is terrible. At least I get to mess with them somewhat. But anyway, on to why I’m here,” she stared pointedly at him. “You. Didn’t you say you were going to the Crimson Hall for our bet?”

Ah… so he had missed his appointment.

“I suppose I did.”

“The new fellow couldn’t find you. Said he looked everywhere. You were there, weren’t you? He was just that incompetent, right?”

“Well, no, I wasn’t there. But—“

Rosa leapt off his throne, her eyes glaring.

“So you’re saying that they held you up?”

“No,” he lied through his teeth. But Rosa didn’t seem to believe him anyway.

“Who was it this time?”

“…”

“Adam?” His facade of normalcy fell apart as she started guessing. “That bastard, TrixNoct?”

“…”

“Tell me. I’ll make sure they regret it.”

“…I’m going to the Ruler’s Grave.”

“Wait, answer me!”

“I’m going!” he shouted back at her. Almost immediately, he regretted it, as her eyes widened with shock.

“I…”

“Look, we’ll discuss the matter later,” he said more softly, and vapourised before she could ask him more questions. “I’m going to meet the new Chosen One.”