The indecisive beta-orbiter charged ahead. "No, I'll do it."
Not again.
While separating from his friends, he glanced behind his shoulder. In the instant before their Lightstones were extinguished, he caught his crush's face shaped into surprise and curiosity at his boldness.
Never again!
With his spirit rising, he crept forth decisively, diving head-first into whatever danger might be ahead.
But his elation soon morphed back into nerves as he drew closer to the sparkling lights, as the echo of his own footsteps seemed to grow louder and louder.
Slowly, their form took shape. There were three of them, barrels on four stick-thin legs, not humans. The sparkles were from webs of electricity zapping around their furry hides, and their heads, each with a pair of crescent-shaped horns, were dipped into a herb-filled trough.
One of the creatures, seeming to sniff his presence, lifted its head to stare in his direction. Its beady, rose-pink eyes sized him up, then, with a dismissive snort, the antelope returned to its meal.
-ElViNNnN: They're Lightning Antelopes...
-Joel Ting 2028: Is that good?
-ElViNNnN: They're supposed to be the fastest mounts in Saana...but no one's ever caught one...
The beta-orbiter saw that the three antelopes had been saddled, which, along with their lack of hostility, indicated they must be tame. He inched forward further, keeping his profile low and unthreatening. When the creatures deactivated their lightning armour, he interpreted this as an invitation to come even closer. He went right up to one and, with the steady caution of someone disarming a bear trap, extended his palm to its nose for it to sniff.
The antelope nudged his hand away from its food; they had just been trying to prevent him electrocuting himself.
Since the situation seemed safe, the indecisive beta-orbiter called his friends over, the two of them soon emerging from the darkness.
"It's a bit weird," said the girl, stating the obvious. "They can't have gotten here themselves. Where's their owner?"
"Here…" replied the flute-player, who was studying the mysterious page that'd led them through the treasure hunt. "...I think we're the owners now."
The other two shuffled in beside him to read the latest message.
'To the misfortunate mice,
These gluttonous goats have bankrupted me, so I'm dumping them—quill, erase that opening and start again. Too negative. Let's try the romance angle. Cough. Cough. Mememememememe.
To the snails at heart,
These sexy steeds symbolise my last tidbit of advice in surviving the battlefield of love. Other coaches will claim that the long-term path of romance is one of balance, with times for moving fast and times for moving slow. Such boring badgers have clearly never ridden a Lightning Antelope. Whether you're fleeing from a demon or courting a doe-eyed fawn, always aim for a faster speed. Life's a race, and the slow virgins die! Quill, I muddled up the last line; redo it. Love's a race, and the slow die virgins!
Go on then, you limp slugs, rise up, mount up, speed towards the climax.
-Relationship Coach K.'
The girl didn't understand any of that. "What's with the innuendos? Who's Relationship Coach K.?"
The beta-orbiters shared a look.
"No idea."
"Huh?"
The flute-player sought to prevent an awkward silence by jokingly leaping onto an antelope. The creature bucked him off, adding a stern warning kick to the jaw not to disturb it again.
While their new mounts were eating, the trio decided to explore their surroundings in case the evening's benefactor Relationship Coach K. was hanging around.
In a wall nearby, they found a tunnel, which, based on the scent of fresh air and dirt, had been dug recently. The indecisive-beta orbiter reasoned from previous RPG games that the designers must have created it as a shortcut for the return journey, although the hole had been made suspiciously huge for that purpose - the thing stood seven or eight times their height.
After a little more searching, the girl called out. "Hey, there's a door."
The two beta-orbiters joined her in front of a doorway. It was forged of a metal that looked like dirt solidified and laminated in a layer of varnish. It was also huge.
The indecisive one was shocked. "I forget the name, but that's the same metal the Kings and Queens wear. This quantity of it could be melted down to hundreds…thousands of armour sets? If the portal alone is this valuable, then what's behind it—"
"Is worth even more!" The flute-player rushed to enter.
"STOP!" The indecisive beta-orbiter shouted. "That's a boss chamber."
"The boss of what? All the bones and dust we've seen for hours?" The flute-player grunted as he exerted himself on the door. "This thing's heavier than a ton of crap. Dude, stop being scared and help me out. Rise up to the occasion."
"It's heavy because it shouldn't be opened by anyone but an army." The indecisive beta-orbiter joined in pushing anyway, his ego hurt by the slight.
When they still couldn't move it, the girl squeezed in between them to add her strength. Her proximity caused the beta-orbiters' hearts to pump blood to their muscles twice as fast, filling them with masculine vigour. Their next shove blasted open the door as though it'd been transmuted into balsa wood.
The opening action triggered illumination runes carved throughout the walls and ceiling of the inside chamber, lighting up an air-hanger-sized space and its sole occupant.
It moved.
The trio span and sprinted away, with such frightened haste that they forget their mounts and sped into the over-sized exit tunnel alone. They were soon knocked airborne and tossed into the saddles of the Lightning Antelopes fleeing with them.
Lake Hotferver, the area having emptied out as the participants in The Grand Hunt dispersed across the plains in search of prey, the stars extra bright in the single moon sky.
Since Henry wasn't interested in the hunt, Rose had begged him for lessons in Earthfriend techniques according to his earlier promise to instruct her in the hippy class for her stalker-fan therapy. As such, they'd ridden away from the camp and scattered Lightstones to create a small, private duelling arena.
The ground was scorched and scarred, Henry having been using his Spelltomes to imitate the deadly might of a colossus while Rose practised Starhunting's evasion techniques and chipped down his health with
Amidst this mess, the two of them were presently standing together, Rose embracing him from behind. This pose was part of a lesson in Starhunting's theory Stable Feet In The Cracks Of Quaking Earth. Henry'd discovered that Rose was unable to comprehend many of his explanations - apparently, she was a kinaesthetic learner. Thus, he'd taken to demonstrating this and previous principles physically. It was very annoying.
"So, again," he repeated himself, "SFITCOQE is the Starhunting equivalent to Interstitial Evasion, as it's referred to in general PVE theory. The essence of the concept is that the larger body sizes of monsters generate more spaces around them where one can shelter from attacks. Right now, you're partially vulnerable behind me." He reached back to secure several grabs. "But, if my proportions expand…" He
"But I still got grabbed when you were a gorilla?"
"Yes, but there were fewer grabs. Larger proportions, fewer grabs. Extrapolate the trend line to bigger species, and fewer grabs become zero grabs."
"I don't get it."
"What's not to get? You're a genius in grappling. The mechanics are identical to those behind dominant positions, except SIMPLIFIED by an extension across time and space and a reduction of outcomes to the binary of whether you successfully dodge or whether you get one-shot and take the soul-flight of shame to the nearest Monument. If you understand grappling, you understand this. Understood?"
"I just grapple, big bro. I don't...these abstractions...people vs monsters...is there a drill version of this lesson?"
"All body; no mind." Henry shook his head, sighing bitterly at the injustice of him being labelled The Cripple in a world with so many morons. "OK, keep holding on. I'll
A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
Off to the side, Silver Wolf was quietly spectating the 'lesson', the manipulative girl nuzzling her face between the pretentious oaf's shoulder blades and entering nirvana as he continued fondling her.
Bullcrap. Silver called bullcrap. This was total bullcrap. How could one person be so aggravatingly clueless? This whole evening, he'd been falling for this girl's paper-thin excuse, being tricked into one intimate interaction after another. For the last twenty minutes, they'd basically been enacting poses from the Kamasutra, out in broad moonlight. To clarify, it was only the stupidity that was bothering Silver. She'd been subjected to this cringy charade for hours now. Anyone else in her position would have been so mad they would have stormed up to Henry and started slapping him - and they would be justified. Also, a tiny bit, she was annoyed by the lack of resistance on his part. Whenever she—or anyone else in their writing circle—had attempted to invite him to hang out, he'd always rejected them coldly, refusing even to invent a polite excuse. Not interested. Not interested. Not interested. Not interested. But look at him now - interested. There was zero consistency. He'd let himself be led around like a puppy on a leash this entire event without a yap of opposition. And what was the brilliant scheme that'd softened his stony heart? An experimental treatment for a stalker-fan mental illness. Bullcrap. First of all, learning to be an Earthfriend is not an actual type of therapy for stalking. Second of all, assuming it were, the last person you would ever ever EVER receive tutelage from would be the person you'd been stalking, and that tutelage would certainly not involve going to second base with them in public. That's insane. Total. Bullcrap. No wonder Henry's novels flopped - you can't write a decent book when you're too inept to distinguish fact from flagrant fiction.
"Got it, Rose? That was Stable Feet In The Cracks Of Quaking Earth."
"Once more, please, big bro. I'm almost there."
"Fine...once more, then we're moving on."
Silver inhaled and exhaled meditatively to calm herself down at the start of the next grope session.
He must be an autistic savant. All the parts of the brain that others used to read social cues been diverted to being a blind, pompous, stuck-up, rude jack-ass? So rude! His rudeness was also annoying her. How many days had she spent on boats, patiently crossing the seas for him despite his chronic evasiveness?! How many pages of his pretentious writing had she carefully poured over despite his constant dismissal of her own artistic achievements?! How many hours had she been wrapped up in this disguise because he was paranoid about her discovery? After all that she'd done for him, he should be building her a shrine taller than Everest! But what had he done instead? He'd put her in the corner and ignored her while he played around with his buddies, while he fooled about duelling, while he did...what-what-whatever this was.
Silver glanced over, only to see the girl clearly hyperventilating behind Henry, clearly getting her rocks off, clearly glaring back at her smugly.
And what was that expression meant to insinuate? As if she cared. These two could mess around all they pleased. It didn't affect herself AT ALL. That's why she hadn't even bothered exposing this...this girl. Stupid Henry deserved to get scammed. Silver loved that part. Nothing obliged her to waste her evening here; she chose to be here because it gave her immense satisfaction to watch justice finally being administered to this cocky pseudo-intellectual.
Silver stopped. Why was she here? That's right…
Getting up from her seat, she stormed over to him. "Henry."
No longer would she sit quietly in the corner while being subjected to this torturous farce.
"Henry."
She would not be ignored. Not again. Never again.
At her call, he turned towards her, his rotation impeded by the girl wrapped around him, and he raised an eyebrow in an obnoxiously innocent expression of questioning.
"Don't act dumb." She snapped at him, the manuscript for her latest volume streaming out of her Spatial Bracelet ready to dump into his obtuse hands.
So caught up had she been in Henry's bizarre matters that she'd lost track of her initial reason for seeking him out. It hadn't been for him, nor to watch him showboat in the arena or get seduced by a 'stalker-fan'; it was for herself, Silver Wolf, accomplished author, the industry behind her, the millions of adoring fans counting the minutes until her next release. They would not be ignored.
"Henry, edit this righ—"
"Not now," he interrupted. "We have company."
Henry, ignoring Silver, acknowledged an NPC that'd stepped into the Lightstone circle beside her.
The man was unusually short, his head barely reaching Silver's chin, and a bald, wrinkled pate protruded out from a cheap mask bought at a festival stall. His demeanour and posture were friendly, humble, and a touch nervous, like a fan meeting their idol.
The stranger gave an apologetic look for his intrusion. "I spotted the flashing lights from afar earlier. Is that the real Starhunting? The Saga of Nyred, Yildiz and The Lion-Eater of Vidura…I'd thought they were myths."
"No more myth than anything else in Saana." Henry perked up at the stranger's expertise. "A dungeon was discovered recently in the South-East Parani Barrens with the memory imprint of Master Bhayaani's last hunt of a Fossil Horn."
"Bhayaani The Bright? I wasn't aware he slew a Fossil Horn."
"That's because Bhayaani The Dim didn't. Unfortunately, since his suicidal hunt is the only extant footage of a Starhunter in operation, I still had to base my reconstruction off of him, emending his flaws by referring to accounts in historical texts."
The stranger nodded in commiseration. "No Memory Spheres back then?"
"None. So, returning to your initial question, whether this is the 'real' Starhunting, that's debatable. I'm of the school that, due to a lack of central authority and the informal methods of transmission, there was never one authentic Starhunting but many Starhuntings, the term denoting a constellation of heterodox big-game hunting methods with a common ancestor. Within this framework, mine's as genuine as the rest."
Henry patted Rose's hand to break the hold. The lesson was over.
-Zhangmei33: Why's The Pope here?
-Henry Flower: Thinking; don't disturb.
-Silver Wolf: Who's this guy?
-Henry Flower: A potential fan?
He lied to prevent a surprised reaction that might give him away, buying him some extra seconds.
The Pope's eyes flicked across each of them, trying to eavesdrop on their silent communication. "Fascinating. And what have you named your Starhunting? The Branch of The Oracle?" He smiled. "The finale was quite the spectacle."
"Which part?" asked Henry. "The duel or the unfair accusations of me cheating?"
"Hmm...both? I can assure you that, from my end, you'll receive no doubts. That was a stunning display of so many diverse martial arts. Forbidden-Knife Boxing from Traxia, Jaguar Fang from Maranya, Hardman Handaxe from Togavi, Nilkan Freerunning...you've travelled, I take it."
Henry shrugged. "Never heard of any of those."
The Pope was amused by the blatant contradiction with his earlier statements. "You know, the patriot in me feels a special pride that our Herdswoman's Spear numbers amongst The Oracle's collection." Nodding suddenly at something, he spun around, facing in the direction of the yellow dot of the Plains Day camping grounds in the distance. "What's your impression of this, HF? I think it's a miracle what the King's cobbled together from driftwood and crooked nails. It wasn't always…"
While the Pope broke off on a tangent praising Ramiro's reformations, Henry continued to plot.
Up until now, Henry throughout his actions in Suchi had been hoping to stay off the radar of Pope Berbahaya, the strongest non-Zone-Guardian entity in the region and its true ruler. The guy's presence here meant he'd failed.
Although this wasn't public information, The Church were fully aware that Alchemy Master Brady, one of Henry's ring identities, was the owner of the West Bank Autonomous Exclave. The Church couldn't help knowing this because they were the authority that managed the rewards for Nerin's Trials, of which rights to purchase land in the WBAE were one.
From The Church's standpoint, there'd been many odd coincidences between himself and Master Brady. Both of them had arrived in Suchi on the same day, both were now Tier-0 Earthfriends, both were filthy rich. This hinted that they were the same person. At the same, other facts contradicted this conclusion, such as the different usernames and Henry's decision to construct a stadium in The Slums if he owned the WBAE. Moreover, if The Church had investigated him far enough, they would also be misdirected by the historical instances where both himself and the Alchemist had appeared in different continents simultaneously - doppelgangers managed by his guild's espionage division.
For these reasons, the Pope had come to probe him, personally.
So far in this conversation, several prods had already been made. Mention of Herdswoman's Spear was an admission of The Church spying on him, Henry having never employed it during today's dagger-wrestling duels. By wearing a disguise, the Pope had tested whether Henry knew Suchi well enough to recognise him from his diminutive stature. At a second level, if Henry were even better acquainted with Suchi's politics, as the WBAE's owner would be, he would realise that the Pope was acting uncharacteristically polite, a gesture the man extended to no one. Henry's reactions to these insights were being collected by the seven-century-old religious head, who picked out many subtle tells that an ordinary person would miss.
"…of course, The Slums must seem lawless to you." The Pope threw him an ironic wink. "They can't compare to the order of The Company's domains."
Henry murmured a meaningful agreement. "Mhm. Putting lipstick on a pig doesn't make it human."
"Putting lipstick…hahaha. What curious expressions you Offworlders come up with. The Ibangua have an equivalent saying, although the tone's less whimsical. Anuda teedak boleh memubuak taleek kala jekkeek."
The line translated to, 'You can't defang a scorpion'. The Pope, choosing against the Ibangua tongue, had converted the message to a daughter language of Old Rangbitan restricted to private Church ceremonies.
"But you can cut off its tail," replied Henry without missing a step, his official role in The Company being a linguist specialised in ancient texts.
He then exploited the pretence of pondering the implication of the language switch to sneak in further planning.
What the Pope didn't know yet was that his sleuthing was about to be made redundant by him also unwittingly being tonight's mystery guest in Karnon's prank: the set of divine genitals. The Pope qualified as 'divine' on multiple accounts - a religious leader, a Miracleworker, and a Tier-7 Halfgod. The cockblocked king, therefore, was Ramiro, who'd made an unannounced appearance at The Grand Hunt and whom the God would be luring to this exact spot this moment for a surprise three-way meeting between Suchi's major players. Henry, the third, was the 'sleep-deprived demon', being an insomniac with a bad reputation.
The whole travesty was unfolding before him.
During their three-way meeting, any suspicions the other two might have about him would be amplified by the arrival of a second sleep-deprived demon, the awakened Doomreaver. Karnon would use summoning the random monster like a stamp to confirm, yep, no coincidences here, that is the third member of your game – and he's my protégé.
Henry hadn't been excluded from participation in tonight's prank...It was on himself. The God, having grown impatient, had decided to accelerate tensions, ruining the meticulously plotted timelines for Henry's scheme to save Suchi.
Everything was fucked.
The worst outcome, by far, was the other two's subsequent realisation of him being The Tyrant - a short logical leap after one figured out he could spoof usernames to be both himself and Master Brady. It had been especially crucial for the final sequence that The Tyrant and Alchemist Brady remain separate entities. The likelihood of Ramiro swallowing the Legendary Bait and invading the WBAE during The Cleansing would plummet if he knew who his opponent truly was, because only a demented maniac accepts those odds, and then Henry wouldn't be able to kill him.
He sighed internally. Can't a man just overthrow a despot in peace?
However, Henry'd had a century to come to grips with potential derailments ever since the azure pimple had sprouted up in this diseased zone. Within seconds of noticing the Pope, he'd given up on preserving his anonymity and transitioned to weighing contingency plans.
Given the inevitability of exposure, it was probably best to cut his personal losses, admit it openly, and warn the Pope about Karnon's looming prank. That would give the man more prep time to handle the Doomreaver and minimise potential casualties. It could also reduce the Pope's suspicion by establishing that Henry wasn't a wilful collaborator with the trickster God.
Henry made his choice. "Ber—"
His ears suddenly filled with whipping wind, his body soaring away into the dark of night.
-Zhangmei33: Cripple-gege?!
-Silver Wolf: Where'd you go?
Flying high and far, he landed with a thud in the dirt, the Lightning Antelope that'd bowled him over pressing down his chest with its mischievous hooves.
Karnon transformed back into a human, one of his hooves becoming a shushing finger. "No, no, NO, Reinstated Professor HF! You can't talk to the students now - not while the exam is in session."
But as the God joked out loud, his hand forced into Henry's view covertly signed three words. 'Wrong. Watch. Remember.'