One day earlier

05.09.10022

My shadow.

My ideal.

Was he a tyrant?

In that case, perhaps I should avoid him.

I was engaging in wishful thinking. There was no avoiding it, in truth. I was certain, regardless, that I would not become the tyrant someone else must have imagined me becoming. It was all good. After all, I was dead in my original world, and I was free to become anything in this fantasy world. Becoming a tyrant was indeed possible.

That said, what kind of tyrant should I become if not a ‘demon lord’ tyrant? That was the question, since I had already rejected a dark king’s offer. Politically speaking, I was an anarcho-capitalist; I believed in the stateless society, and in the democratic selection of corporatocratic figures, as based on proof of weight. Proof of weight meant the amount of status, merit and knowledge, as much as means, a person may have to throw around and vouch as important for any significant position.

Since I was an anarcho-capitalist, I did not like Ambrosia’s socialist system. That said, it was to my advantage to use the status table she gave me in order to control my Caecus affinity, and one day, become trustworthy. I did not believe in the state. Therefore, I would not choose to become a totalitarian leader, perhaps unlike the dark king. At best, I could be a tyrannical party leader. At worst, I could become a rogue. The latter outcome sounded dangerous to me. Becoming a rogue was the best route to crippling my chances of survival.

Therefore, I had to conform. I had to conform to the idea of good and evil as elaborated in some law I had yet to see, in the Thesis nation. I was an atheist at heart – a non-believer, a heathen. As such, the idea of good and evil simply escaped my conscience. I did, however, believe that some things had to be good, and ‘right’, while other things had to be bad, and ‘wrong’. This belief was not to conform with the game theory, where people chose things which were to their advantage. Heck, I was not even an adherent of the prisoner’s dilemma. However, seeing that I had not been in a prisoner’s dilemma situation, it was hard to say. I was a self-serving guy, which did mean I would choose my own survival all the same. I was a shameless survivor. So, maybe the prisoner’s dilemma did perfectly apply to me…

I was relieved, all the same. I had always had this feeling of not feeling like I had made progress. On the flip side, I was attracted to the idea of becoming more like a machine, when it came to completing tasks. Since I developed artistic tendencies, and faltered during high school, that character remained unmaterialized. ...Last time I felt like I was ‘my ideal self’ was during a presentation at university level. We ended up scoring good points back then. Of course, I was not naive enough to believe that my grimacing grins of embarassment, and my silent demeanor were any indication that I was meant for a substantially different personality. It was just great that I recognized I had control over what I wanted to do in life, and that I did have some minor achievements stacked up, alongside the meandering thoughts, many of which were abandoned, due to diminishing belief in their relevance.

I contemplated all this while looking at a golden sunset. The sun looked magnificent.

I was wearing a cobalt-blue tunic today. I was in the castle’s garden, in yet another convenient alcove. An alcove, by the way, was an arched opening, say inside a wall, or, in my case, inside a grove of trees. The castle spire rose in the distance, with the library section blacked out, because of the shadow the sunset cast upon it.

“Come to think of it, that ghost I met before coming across the goblin was pretty,” I said aloud. She must have been demanding of life, because simply telling her that I wanted nothing reflected back on her, and turned her dress gray, from yellow and white. She was suicidal even in death. That was something eerie, and yet breathtaking to witness. As expected, I did not know how to handle people like her. People like the goddess too. “What does she mean, ‘improve your trust attribute’? Should that even count as a stat? What a joke!”

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***

06.09.10022

09:00. Third induction room.

I did say ‘what a joke’, but I searched for the room dutifully. Upon asking one of the guards, who looked at me suspiciously, I was shown the way.

There, was the goddess. Ambrosia had auburn hair, and auburn eyes. It seemed to match the color of coffee. Today, she wore a yellow, round cape, which stretched close to midway of her upper arm – that was just as I remembered her to wear. However, beneath it, she wore a dark green dress.

“Hello Ambrosia,” I said. “It’s good to see you again. Sorry for taking your time when you have to be training the magicians and stuff.”

“Greetings, Aidan. Same goes for me. I’m glad you are doing okay.” She smiled. “Don’t worry about the training of the magicians. That is needless concern, since you are not responsible for their lot, and I volunteered for it, anyway.”

“Quite an unkind way for you to dismiss my concern,” I said, surprised.

“Indeed,” came the reply. I got the feeling she was trying to be tough with me. ‘Whatever floats your boat,’ I thought. “Oh, and I think you are early.”

“I would not know about that. By how many minutes am I early? It was eight thirty when I checked in at the cafetaria,” I said awkwardly.

“You can check it out yourself. Use your voice to say ‘command: time’. Your button on your left should light up. Press it, and you’ll get the time for right now. By the way, you sound like a fast eater. Take your time with food, okay!?”

“Don’t nag at me for my personal habits, will you?” I looked at the translucent button to my upper left. “Command: time,” I intoned. As she mentioned, the button lit up, with a dull blue color. I touched the button.

“[08:50]”

Ten minutes early. That was not too shabby. “It says ten to nine. I would consider that standard fare,” I said.

“Good to hear that. Let’s hope you remain a stickler to caution,” Ambrosia returned.

I shrugged, my palms up to the side. “Anything goes.”

Ambrosia frowned, then sighed, “You are a bit troublesome, ain’t you?”

As we talked, three persons entered the induction room.

The first one was Dalton, the man who had accompanied me to my containment room the first day I had been summoned. He was in company of a black-haired woman, with a demure look, and a red-haired guy. They paid respect to Ambrosia. “Good morning, goddess Ambrosia,” they said in unison.

Then, they looked in my direction. “Hello, I’m Aidan Alastair. I’m a demon lord apprentice. As such, my spells revolve around Caecus. Nice to have you.”

“Nice to have you, man,” returned Dalton.

“I feel like I’m gonna fall asleep a lot,” said the black-haired woman.

“Handle yourself, Catherine,” said the red-haired person.

“But he looks like he’s gonna be a boring person. Plus, he’s narcissistic, having rejected the goddess’s offer once,” replied Catherine.

“Not everything has to be about myself. I am more sensible than that,” I said. True, I could notice whenever someone else was dismissive of my own details, or that of someone else. “And I don’t care about labels, so make sure you don’t keep pushing them on me.”

“That’s a demon lord apprentice for you,” Catherine said victoriously.

“You make quite the impression with these words, Aidan ...Indeed,” Dalton said. “However, you must be soft-hearted.”

‘Me? Soft-hearted?’ I thought. “I’m as stubborn as they come,” I said. “You should know by now, given that I rejected the goddess’s proposal once.” ‘And a second time, which you need not know. She fought me to the ground,’

“Okay, that’s about enough chitchat for today,” Ambrosia sighed. “I’m going to be busy for today, which means I won’t be taking much of your time. So, let’s get to the point.”

“Agreed,” said Catherine.

“Uh-huh,” mumbled the red-haired guy.

“So, first introduce yourselves,” said the goddess.

“Hello, I’m Dalton Dakota. I’m currently a level 1 hero, whose ability is make shields, and therefore, I’m gonna be a tanker,” said Dalton.

“Also level 1 hero. Name’s Catherine York. I can move fast and strike swiftly. I use a sword, so I consider myself a duelist,” said the black-haired woman.

“I’m Benjamin Crawler. A level 1 hero, as I’m sure the whole party is. I consider myself an archer.”

“There’s a fourth guy, called Basil Foster. He is not ready for this mission, since he is trying to manifest his power,” Dalton explained.

“What about me then?” I asked, perplexed.

“Let me take over,” Ambrosia said. “The dungeon you’ll be going to is gonna be fairly easy. You are a ranked hero, Aidan. So, surely, something will happen, that will cause you to manifest your power. I just don’t know what your power is going to be.”

“That sounds risky. But if you say I can, then I will. I’ll retreat if it gets too tough,” I said.

“Great! That sounds more convincing, now.”

“Does it?” I said, vexed.

“So, the place you’ll be going into is called the ‘dungeon of flowers’,” said Ambrosia.

‘Flowers?’ I thought. ‘Odd name.’