Ten days till Wedding, the temple of Neckbeardism.
No matter how many bottles of the fizzy goodness he downed, no matter how many bags of the sacred triangles he devoured, turmoil of his soul did not ease. And thus, his days of deep contemplation continued.
A fedora rested beside his rainbow-led-lit RGB keyboard, as Neckbeardman engaged, for the first time in eons, in a simple relaxed chat with his guild of internet goblins, fellow virgins, and closet normies. For the first time in over eleven years of knowing them, he eschewed the persona of an intellectual and truly got to know them.
He laughed. He cried. And he laughed some more, as evenings were spent on d*scord voice-chat, hearing about the most ungentlemanly hijinks his companions had gotten to since the apocalypse.
But even they could not truly comprehend his woes.
Days rolled on in the darkness of his sealed apartment.
Silent Feather’s messages went unread.
Her knocking unheard.
When all was lost and even D*ritos tasted like the industrial waste they were made of, when even studying his favorite escapism isekai mangas could not fully dispel the darkness in Neckbeardman’s heart, help came from the most unlikely and humble of beings.
“Your pizza is here,” called out a muffled voice.
With a peeling backwards slurp, Neckbeardman detached his arse from his fake leather chair, donned his trench coat, and waddled to the door. To ensure he could satisfy the courier’s desired method of pay, Neckbeardman prepared ten eurobucks and one of the odd octagonal gold coins with a hole that Silent Feather had filled his pockets with.
He opened the door, squinting at the blinding sun behind the brightly garbed young man. “Does doth desire the payment to be received in gold or the currency of the old world?” asked Neckbeardman.
“New chinamoney, thanks. Eurobucks are worth less than toilet paper.” The young man laughed, opening his square backpack to produce three cardboard boxes of gentleman approved sustenance.
Money was exchanged for goods.
The young man strapped his bicycle helmet back on. Garbed in tattered light blue apparel emblazoned with the logo of a long dead empire, the boy’s appearance was a flashback to yesteryear, to a time when his kind roamed the streets in great numbers, allowing countless gentlemen to continue their isolation training in peace. Neckbeardman paused to consider.
He couldn’t help but ask, “What compels one such as yourself to keep on going? You’ve no reason to go on. No reason to perpetuate this most peculiar task you’ve inherited. So why? Why do you keep on delivering?”
The man glanced at the city beyond the apartment complex, at the clear winter sky, and at the app on his phone that pinged him with a constant demand for deliveries. “Dunno mate. Guess I like it. Riding a bike and dropping stuff off feels good. Like you’re completing little quests, you know? Plus, it’s helping people out. Like that dude in that one video said, ‘Is this…’” He gestured at a poster with kow-towing instructions. “‘...how you wished to live?’ Heckers nuh, if some gangbanger gets to be a comic artist in the apocalypse, I sure as hell am gonna keep on riding, as long as it makes the customers happy. So, yeah, I should hurry the heck up to make my quotas! See you ‘round mate.”
There went he who couldn’t be stopped by an apocalypse or bankruptcy of the corporation he served.
There went the Last W*lt Rider.
He left behind three extra large extra cheese extra bacon men’s vegetarian pizzas and a profound sense of enlightenment that made Neckberardman feel one click away from an epiphany.
How you wished to live…
But Neckbeardman was already on his Dao. He’d already reached his cosmic truth and made it his own. If his way was not a true way to be, why had the world acknowledged it and rewarded him with authority over it?
No. Neckbeardman shook his head. He was pondering this much too deeply, straying from the spark that he’d nearly grasped.
This was simpler.
Dao was simpler.
It was not the measure of righteousness or correctness in the way of living. It was just the same as the former corporate overlords of the last rider. Though where the corporate maximized profits, Dao wishes to maximize the perpetuation of its own meme by rewarding its heralds with supernatural power. And if your way was morally bankrupt, who’s to say you couldn’t do as the Last Wolt Rider had done, and forged his own out of its ashes?
If even Daos are ignorant to such basic truths as friendship, how can I claim to be a true intellectual?
D*rito dust trembled. Glassware jingled. Pepperonis rotated. A sense of truth resonated within Neckbeardman, as the first to step on the Dao of Neckbeard took a sidestep onto another path as of yet untrodden.
Maybe all m’ladies don’t deserve protection? Maybe friends and loved ones are more important to me than strangers.
Mozzarella rippled like boiling lava and the RGB lights of Kevin’s crypto mining set-up intensified their dance until their rainbow went twelve extra colors past red and blue. Kevin’s hair and neckbeard thickened and the jaw beneath sharpened as he bathed in the revelation.
Like weights, unnecessary pride peeled off his soul, leaving behind only pure appreciation for the waifus and other higher culture, but also a yearning to gently share his passion with others without snobby prejudice. As truer enlightenment settled in, Kevin pulled out his cellular telephone and typed a message.
Kevin: “Hello, Titan. Are you still up for that heroes rematch? Next Saturday.”
Kevin hesitated, then deleted ‘Next Saturday’ and replaced it with ‘today’, before pressing send.
Reply pinged his phone immediately.
Titan: “Sure. Got eight sets left of today’s training. Mind if Nelly comes over too?”
Kevin: “That’s perfect. I’ve got exactly three pizzas ready.”
Titan: “Alright. See you in a bit, friend.”
Kevin closed his phone, looked at his apartment, and sighed. Unfortunately, his new Dao was not that of swift cleaning, so he had to tidy up the old-fashioned way. The days of using [Neckbeard Aura] to make reality conform to him were over. Now began the days of self improvement and hard work.
To truly begin the clean-up and let go of his past errors, he had one more message to send.
With a heavy heart, Kevin typed out an apology to Silent Feather, telling her that they couldn’t proceed with the marriage because he’d seduced her with [Neckbeard Aura], rather than his true personality.
She refused immediately, claiming to still want him because of his powerful Dao cultivation.
He rejected her refusal on the basis of having dishonored her. He’d not been a true gentleman, but rather acted as if he’d been influenced by the path of the dark pills.
Silent Feather replied with a flood of outraged emojis.
For the next twenty minutes, Kevin tapped into his Dao to empower his thumbs to match Silent Feather’s texting speed.
Kevin had to bow out of the chat when Titan and Nelly arrived. Other than the somewhat peculiar aftertaste of the pepperonis, good times were had. And by the end of the day, after opening up and sharing his woes with his friends, Kevin found his answer to Silent Feather.
Kevin: “Though we may be built on an uncertain foundation, if m’lady will allow it, I shall attempt my best to court you before our wedding day, to see if we are to be waifu and husbando in more than name.”
3D Waifu: “<3 This one approves <3”
Kevin: “Allow me to begin by inviting you on a date. What say you to enjoying a few choice blue-rays of romantic anime, followed by…”
Kevin’s finger paused. What exactly did Silent Feather like? Before his shame could be put to words, a message pinged.
3d Waifu: “This one suggests a shared lesson in the ‘Flight of the Thousandth Feather’ dance, as it is rather enjoyable and required of us at the main ceremony.”
Kevin agreed.
Days whisked past at the speed of thought. Spark of something ignited in Kevin, something he’d thought only normies could ever experience.
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
Life took turns he’d never imagined it could. He and Silent Feather even visited Happyland, attending couples' therapy. By the third session, she wept, realizing regrets suppressed by a mask of a power hungry young cultivator.
Despite both of them turning out a little awkward, more than a touch manipulative, flawed in more ways than one, they were eager to improve together spiritually. Wonderful days danced on, leading up to the glorious moment, where Neckbeardman invited Nelly and Titan to his wedding.
***
Few days later, midnight. Happyland Asylum.
Stabbing pain to my abdomen woke me in the middle of the night. The wound to my guts throbbed hot red and the internals below felt like they’d just been minced by an industrial blender. When I touched the old wound, my palm came back slick with blackened blood.
Four months had been an optimistic estimate.
Based on the worsening shivers, I suspected I had two weeks until the mortal parts of my biology lifted their last rep.
“Not the green pirate, you dum-dum…” Nelly mumbled happily from beneath a mountain of blankets.
Gently, I disentangled her hand that clung onto my boxers, plucked a lock of oaken hair from her mouth, and rose from our bed, lingering to drink in her peaceful sleeping face.
Sometimes, I still wondered if this was all a drug fueled delirium, and we were still confined in the Asylum. Nelly’s return to sanity had been and was a dream come true. Eight days had gone by. Eight days of catching up.
We’d gone to cheer Grog and Maxman at the tournament, where they claimed silver and bronze, respectively. We’d visited the abandoned amusement park rides that I powered with my muscles. We’d gone shopping at the abandoned mall, where Nelly lured me to spend an entire day at a certain lingerie store’s fitting closet. We’d gone sledding at the nearby mountain. We’d played all the fun winter games and activities I could think of and then some.
A year’s worth of catching up was compressed into those days, and it felt nowhere near enough. Nothing could ever be enough to make up for the time we’d lost, but we didn’t dwell on it too much and simply enjoyed our time together.
It had provided me with a bit of a breather from progressing, one I welcomed.
Improving is all well and good. But it does good to clear the mind every so often. To reassess your goals, your plan, and your path.
Never is this more true than when we’re pressed for time, for urgency without clear focus is the ragged uncle of mediocrity.
And to tell the truth, my Big Brain stage had not been completed as perfectly as it could have. I’d rushed the process to avoid death. A mistake. One I would avoid with the Chadorgan stage.
I procured a handful of frozen rocks from the outside, several protein powder bags from the kitchen, and cooked myself a gravely protein porridge elixir for a midnight snack. My stomach welcomed the challenge with a rumble, twisting and turning as it punched the rocks with tiny little hands protruding from the walls of the organ. I’d still need to find ways to reinforce my heart, lungs, kidneys, liver, spleen, pancreas, and bladder, but the combination of good old Chad Alchemy and Nelly’s spring-like vigor more than took care of my digestive tract and the downstairs Titan.
I told the stomach to leave some action for the intestines and continued my way to the reinforced isolation cells. They were guarded by both Protective Chad Formations and a strange demonic Qi barrier that the doctors had cooked up.
“Who approachesssss?” hissed the demons in the shadows, rising to take a peek at me.
I waved at them. “Hello.”
“Chad…” “It’ssss Chad.” “Chad it issss…” The demons flattened and melted into the darkness.
I used a small amount of ambient Big Dick energy to intimidate the broken lock to open, entering the cell of our captive kitsune.
“My my, a nightly visit. I do prefer these types of interrogation, I do,” she purred, assuming a lazy lounging pose on her bed. The patient’s shawl she’d been loaned looked perilously close to slipping off. Her admittedly fetching appearance combined with Qi infused pheromones and mind-altering powers made a dangerously seductive combination.
Out of the residents of Happyland, I was the only one with the power to resist it, which had unfortunately prevented the use of demonic Qi interrogation techniques.
Rhie continued to try and ensnare me with her spell, weaving her legs and tails through seductive techniques as she shifted her pose in an attempt to bait my gaze down to her foxy bits.
“Mm. You could’ve brought the girl with you. I wouldn’t be against serving two such…” She licked her bright lips, moaning through a soft sigh. “...gorgeous masters. Put me on a leash and gag my mouth if you’re worried. In fact, I’d quite like that. Wouldn’t you? Don’t lie. You want to see me squirming against her. She’d like it too. Oh, I promise you that. No reason to deny your cock a willing conquest, unless… You’re afraid you couldn't tame me?”
A tongue peeked through her coquettish smile, achieving maximum playfulness in her taunt.
I saw through her play.
“Save your breath, fox. Alpha Cultivators are immune to thottery.”
“Aww…” Rhie groaned, leaning a cheek against her palm while fiddling with her the chain of her collar like a bored succubus. “Why else could you be here? Nothing you or your little fake demonic cultivators can do will make me fear you more than my Queen.”
I gripped the thick metal chain made out of Qi-reinforced titanium alloy that the local smeltery had managed to produce with the cooperation of reformed cultivators and PhD metallurgists. Links crumbled and snapped.
“Go home.”
Rhie leaned back, raising a skeptical brow.
“Go back to your Queen, or whomever is in charge of you, and let them know what they’re up against.”
Her eyes narrowed as the kitsune slinked off her bed. “No wonder you live in an Asylum. My poor adorable fool, you think I’ll show you mercy, when my elders have their teeth on your neck. Well… if you beg, I might, that’s such a delicious image it might make me do any—”
Tired of her voice, I poured a fleck of Big Dick energy into [Eyes of the Alpha], and said with no small amount of gravity, “Go.”
Her body whirled inward in a flash of colors, diminishing into a tattooed blonde fox, which sprinted through the halls and disappeared into the night.
And so, the preparations for my journey after Happyland were done.
While Kevin’s wedding was all but guaranteed to go sideways and provide me with plenty of insanely powerful cultivators to battle against, I needed opponents after that. Opponents who would follow me wherever I went and keep on sending me more powerful opponents with whom I might forge my Chad Core. A mysterious Queen of lesser deity rank set on capturing Nelly was the perfect fit for such a role. With her, I’d be able to ensure smooth escalation of stakes all the way up to lesser deity power-levels.
A surprise attack slammed into my face behind the corner, filling my senses with flowers and spring.
“Ti-taan~” Nelly whisper-shouted, her voice as bouncy as what she was rubbing in my face. Her ankles locked behind my back. “Hey, guess what? Guess what? I was dreaming about sailing a green pirate ship, then when I woke there were flowers and vines all over the room again — I should reeeaaally start training one of these days too — but anyhow, I was thinking, what if I learned to do some Qi magics on the Asylum, or some other building, and gave it tree legs. We could have a living, moving base. How cool would that be? Or like. What if I made a forest dragon or something and we built a base inside that?”
While speaking, she slid down along me like I was a fireman pole.
“So yeah, had to come tell you that before I forget. Couldn’t find paper or my phone or any paper, so figured I’d use your big-brain as notepad instead of drawing on the walls. The overgrown pirate ship was pretty cool, and what kind of power couple would we really be if we don’t get a super cool moving base?”
“Those are some cool ideas,” I admitted, meeting her smile with mine.
Nelly’s dark brown eyes squinted into illegally adorable slits, then drew wide as her eyes caught something. “Oooh? Now that we’re both up, how about we continue ‘catching up’ a little more, hm?”
She brow-waggled and winked continuously with both eyes, looking more silly than seductive, but turned the move into an effective Chad-slayer by tugging on her neckline and reminding me that my borrowed sweater was the only thing she was wearing.
My mind returned to the basics of Dao of Chadness.
No regrets.
No misstep.
No hesitation.
Only Chadness.
Once again, Nelly and I spent much of the night making up for the lost time.
I stirred inexplicably in the early morning, woken by a sense of nostalgia I could not place, as if someone I’d never known, yet had known all my life, had just passed by. At breakfast, Batman made me aware of a strange stone that had appeared beside the main gate.
On the surface of the three ton tablet, inscribed in Chad-Glyphs, were a few powerfully expressed Chad buff techniques, as well as a simple message.
Lesser Deities coming to the wedding. My [Deux Ex Chad] will hold them for three days. Advance before then, junior bruh.
—The First.
***
Several days had passed since Icemane, the first disciple of the Frostcrowned King embarked upon his mission to wipe out the Dao cultivator suspected of having connection to the Memetic Immortals.
Icemane sniffed crisp frozen air and locked on the subtle scent of supernatural masculinity amongst a millions of scents and thousands of Qi signatures. He continued towards the mark, wandering sparsely populated outskirts surrounding the urban center locally known as Townberg. With his aura and Qi perfectly concealed, not even the snow noticed Icemane’s passing. Flakes drifted through him and no footprints remained to remember his passing. To the mortal men and beasts, he was as a gust of wind.
The scent grew closer as small family homes gave way to several story tall concrete blocks of hideously barren design. It was then, whilst passing past the shadow of the dark giants, that Icemane chuckled.
No souls dwelt in any of the buildings. The mark remained unmoving, waiting on the other side of the building before him, as if he was trying to lure Icemane to him.
Amusement rumbled in the man’s breast. Who did he think Icemane was? Eight wolfsnake pelts wrapped around his traditionally beautiful form stirred, their tundra-blue eyes flashing with the same cold bloodlust as his, as Icemane released his Qi and let his aura manifest. Let the man see what was coming for him, it was too late for the Dao cultivator to run either way.
Qi swelled his form as air echoed with the roar of a primordial God from the Endless Tundra. Icemane’s silky white hair exploded into a coarse mane rougher than that of a glacierbear, and coated all but his pale-gray face. His teeth grew predatory and his nails cracked into claws. And finally, the eight wolfsnake pelts came alive. Icemane’s Qi flooded into them like a winter storm, filling the flappy hides with power beyond anything they’d wielded whilst alive. An idle stretch of one of the heads collapsed an eleven story building. The roar of another flashfroze a second building in a two meter thick coat of Qi reinforced ice stronger than most immortal grade metals. All eight wolfsnakes coiled around Icemane, wrapping him in an absolute layer of offensive defense that trumped even all the countless techniques, body reinforcements, and his spirit reinforced body.
Puny efforts of the human ‘aircraft carrier’ and its support fleet had had all the effectiveness of metal coffins against Icemane’s strength. Rare few were the fellow immortal realm cultivators who still dared to trade pointers with him either, for he wasn’t many stages from ascending as Lesser Deity.
Claws clasped behind his back, Icemane strolled to the mortal playground, where the mark arrogantly sat with his back against him.
With a flick of his mental wrist, a wave of Qi washed over the playground and the man, entombing him from neck down in ice cold enough to freeze a volcano. With that, he was as good as dead, but Icemane was not satisfied with a task well done. He aimed for perfection.
A slight alteration to his Qi infused the temperature with his aura to cause mind shattering pain, leaving the Dao cultivator silent from sheer shock.
Icemane eased the pain as he approached the oddly angular man. “This one’s name is Icemane of Northwind. Speak all that there is to know of your sect and its members and their whereabouts, and this one shall grant you a painless winter sleep. Withhold information, and you shall be encased in agony within the Glacier Vaults of Frostcrowned King.”
Sun was shining behind a building and hit the frozen man’s face. He had angular stoic features to match his muscles, unnaturally so. The man’s eyes were deep blue, his hair thick, his beard white, and his wrinkles a result of a hundred lifetimes of smiles, one of which now tugged his lips.
“About time,” said the man, his voice an avalanche. “I was starting to worry you hadn’t gotten the invitation.”