Ci-cin.

I open my eyes.

I see nothing in the darkness.

«Crick-crick-crick.»

The insects continue their work. Although it is a background noise, when I wake up it sounds amplified. Could it be the excellent acoustics of the theatre hall?

My face is on the keys and I'm dusty.

I sit up and shake my head, fan my ears, and try to make myself presentable.

“Awwh…” I stretch, “I thought I could finish, but I fell asleep.”

My snake-headed tail looks at me, her eyes are blue like mine. Sometimes I have the impression that it is sentient, a sort of autonomous sister.

But is not so.

Ci-cin.

“Ewh,” I yawn again. Who knows how long I slept?

Maybe it rained in the meantime.

Better go up and check.

[Dungeon path] takes me back to the house.

Wood for wood, underfoot the one in the theater is more pleasant.

Coming from the desert, a blackish and slimy trail continues up the stairs. It arrives at the open door.

A figure in a black cloak sits at the table. It turns over a ferryman's pawn in its hands. A quick look at the board tells me where it came from.

Its appearance is intact, a sign that it died without decomposing.

Ci-cin.

“Welcome.”

I arrive at the door threshold.

The male guest slowly turns and looks at me. Long and pointed ears, his eyes are lined with heavy dark circles and the smell of metal can be felt up to here.

I have an affinity with the element [poison] and immediately understand that he has been poisoned. They must have burned him almost immediately in acid poison.

“Uh, are you the ferryman of this shrine? You're pretty.”

The individual smiles slightly. He's bitter, there's no doubt about it. He quickly looks away and goes back to focusing on the pawn. A black, decorated, closed umbrella rests next to him.

“Thank you.”

I'm not sure what to add. Silence falls.

Ci-cin.

“Oh, it seems I've managed to embarrass death. Remarkable? Or is death used to being embarrassed?”

Tok!

The individual places the pawn on the table. It's a small outburst of anger that he immediately dissipates.

I look at his iron breastplate and his spiked leggings. He is a warrior of some kind.

I ignore his provocation. He is not the first nor will he be the last impertinent deceased. My father intimidated them, but that's not the approach that suits me.

Under his sad gaze, I extend my index finger towards him.

“Scan.”

[lv: 34] [xp: 2505]

[name: Ilnerio Vinalka]

[type: Elf]

[job: Hero]

[hp: 2473]

[c: 2][s: 4]―[d: 7][i: 3]

[ap: 237]

[c: 2][i: 3]―[d: 7][…]

[malus: Deceased]

A [Hero]! Amazing!

I look at him.

His gaze betrays his astonishment. Evidently, he doesn't know what statistics are.

“What are you doing?”

“I evaluate your statistics, so I understand where to give you rest.”

The elf shakes his head and goes back to tinkering with the pawn.

“So, am I dead? I still have a hard time believing that. Well, it's better this way...”

I close the stats page.

Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

His miserable look and his listless gestures… as if there are something wrong. Heroes should rejoice in glories, in life and death.

“Can I get you something to eat?” I walk over to the cupboard and open it.

Ci-cin.

There's not much inside, maybe I'll have to get some berries.

“Leaves. I don't deserve these kindnesses.”

“Do not say that. There's no rush anyway.”

“You are very kind, as well as very pretty. If the circumstances were different, I would take it for an invitation.”

I don't quite understand his tone. What I did was an invitation.

On the one hand he speaks melancholy, on the other it is as if he were talking to me about a person other than himself.

Dying doesn't have to be nice, maybe he's just as confused as that dog.

“So, you don't want anything?”

“No, I don't want anything, thanks.”

His eyes are opaque, probably an effect of the poisonous gas. When alive they must have been bright orange. Like the horizon of the sunset.

He's still playing with the piece and I have a lot of time on my hands.

“Do you want to play a game?”

“Oh, a game?”

“Yes, a match. It's from before you flip that piece. I can teach you.”

The elf thinks about it for a moment. He looks at the pawn carefully. He depicts a gondolier with the face of a devil ferrying a coffin.

“You have to be a lonely person if you want to waste your time with a no-good like me.”

Again, with that ambiguous tone!

I have already met heroes, the welcome my father gave them was warm. We listened to their stories and escorted them to the great Whirlpool. Compliments abounded and I listened to them in amazement. “One day I will accompany them,” I said to myself.

That day has come…

…but this [Hero] doesn't speak. He doesn't seem happy.

“I have a lot of time, Ilnerio, don't worry about it.”

“I don't like these kid things. Please stop teasing me.” His fist is clenched around the piece, I can sense his irritation.

“So, you'll break it.”

“You think I don't know!? While I was waiting for you, I broke it and broke it again. This damned little piece that fixes itself!”

The elf places it on the table.

Ci-cin.

Silence falls again.

My curiosity and desire to listen to him wane, but I would like to understand. I would like to comfort him a little before I have to forget him.

“Sorry,” he mutters. “I'm not used.”

“No one is used to dying.”

Ilnerio raises his head then stands up and takes the umbrella with him.

He surpasses me by at least two hands and remains there, motionless.

“Please do what you have to.”

“All right. Since you are a hero...”

“Tse, hero. You're a funny little kitty.”

I move my ears, instinctively I want to touch them. For some reason, I feel uncomfortable but I try not to show it.

“I have to accompany you to the Whirlpool. Your level is high. I ask you not to be scared. It's dark and there are noises down there.”

The elf says nothing.

I place my hand on his and use [Dungeon path].

Darkness envelops us and the [Hero] has a moment of hesitation.

Beyond, here is the deafening noise of the Whirlpool.

The dark waters swirl at such a speed that they generate wind. The only place in the entire dungeon where the air isn't thick with dust.

Even without light, there is some visibility here. The Whirlpool itself is like a dirty crystal, impregnated with a luminescence that struggles to escape.

No one knows how vast the Whirlpool is, we only know that its waters are always stormy – invigorated by the two underground rivers. At the bottom of the Whirlpool, there is the Ocean and no one knows what happens there.

Ci-cin.

Suspension.

Fright.

The [Hero] holds my wrist.

My tail becomes alarmed and wraps around him. One grips the offending arm, the other the neck.

“Ngh!”

“Sorry, sorry.” My tails free him but he doesn't release his grip on my wrist.

His gaze is indecipherable, vacant. He has a sudden outburst, seems to come to his senses, and leaves me.

“Excuse me. This place scared me.”

“Yes, you are not the first. The Whirlpool is the place where heroes rest.”

He clenches his fists again.

“Mpf. Heroes...” While he speaks, he passes a hand on the handrail of the bridge.

“This black iron bridge leads from the port to the beginning of the Whirlpool. I would like to tell you more, but I don't know.”

“Goddess of Death, stop. I beg you. Do what you have to and let's get this over with.”

Ci-cin.

I grip my wrist with my other hand. There are no signs, but the strong grip is as if I can still feel it.

There is something about Ilnerio that makes me unhappy. As if I couldn't do my duty, I wasn't capable.

I would like to pay him the right honors and reassure him. But he seems to reject me.

“Why are you doing so? I've never met a hero like you. Has your religion made impossible promises to you?”

It wouldn't be new, but in this case, I could adjust the aim. Find a place to talk.

“Religion? No-no. Don't take me for a fool. I have desecrated more chalices than bodies.”

Even though the reference isn't clear to me, I think I understand.

“Okay, then…”

Finally, his gaze seems to brighten up.

“Wait.”

“Sure.”

The elf hands me the umbrella and I take it.

I'm perplexed. I must have made a strange expression because he looks away.

“Don't you want to take it with you?”

“I won't need it anymore.”

“True, but…”

“Accept it. It is compensation for the favor I ask of you. It looks like an umbrella, but it is a legendary weapon. I have nothing else to offer you.”

I weigh the object in my hand: it is light, made of lined silk and wood. It doesn't look like a weapon to me, but it's still a beautiful umbrella.

I'll scan it later if I get the chance.

“There are things I cannot fulfill.” I look down, afraid that he wants to ask me to come back to life.

Some deceased people do it, but it's not possible.

“I am not foolish. There is a war on my planet. I hate to take sides but… well, I've dealt a mortal blow to the enemy champion. Unfortunately, his magic was acid. I died before I saw it fall.”

Finally, he opens up. But there is regret in his voice.

“Do you want to know if it is deceased?”

“No. It is. It will arrive soon for sure. I am not a saint, nor the hero you say I am. But there's no point in stealing if the world itself ends.”

“These words are clear to me…”

…my father welcomed others from the war he mentioned. I think I've met other elves like him.

But I can't tell him. I don't want to interrupt Ilnerio. Not now that it's opening.

“Well. If it is clear to you, accept my gift and do me a favor: avenge me. That beast with the crow's head, take it off. Do what you will with us, pretty goddess of death. But avenge me.”

What weird words.

Seeking revenge for someone you think is dead.

Unfortunately, I can't…

“Ilnerio, listen to me. I accept your gift, so have no regrets.”

He nods. “Thank you.”

At that point, we are at the mercy of the wind. The roaring noise of the Whirlpool.

I raise my hand towards him and use [Judgment].

…

[Judgment: Nightmare]

…

What!?

[Nightmare] for a [Hero]!?

But what does it mean?

“Little goddess, is there something bothering you? Your face has changed.”

“I-I… I-I don't know… I don't understand.”

The elf raises his eyebrows.

“I am about to condemn you to an eternity of horrible nightmares.”

“Ah, ha-ha, this is beautiful! You are a great actress!”

“But it's the truth! Horrible, it will be...”

“You don't need to pretend to care. I know how mean I have been. I am satisfied with the favor and do not ask for anything else. So, throw me into these nightmares.”

I tremble.

I do not understand.

I cannot understand how this is possible.

On the other hand, the System is not wrong. It never makes mistakes. [Judgment] is a perfect tool, I can't doubt it.

I do it and Ilnerio's body immediately begins to melt.

He bubbles and drips, slipping into the bridge grate. In the Whirlpool, he is dispersed by centrifugal force and nothing remains of him.

Nothing but the umbrella.

And so, he was no [Hero].

I remain contemplating that dirty luminescence, that whirlwind of cosmic power.

Some heroes deserve the worst of fates.

Unhappier even that my loneliness.

Ci-cin.