Hajime never expected to wake up in the same dimly lit bedroom again. His friends wouldn’t hear the end of it if their voyage went smoothly, so perhaps it was for the best it didn’t. This world needed a competent warrior of light, a paragon immortalized in the books, not an airhead who let measly slimes get the better of him.
Surprisingly, he didn’t catch a whiff of any more crusty bread on his table, appearing to be beef and peas on a wooden plate. All that was missing now was his good old rum still inside his inventory. Virtue Box never failed to emulate every necessity for a Horde player’s reality trip.
Still, he had to make do with only twenty available slots. The potential for it to become a nuisance in the future loomed over his head until a cacophony of noise echoed outside. They were the voices of the Green Wolves, begotten of an argument that grew worse in tone and language each minute. Some even resorted to speaking their native tongue, which had grown on him admittedly.
The winding stair didn’t seem that bad, after all. It took Hajime a small flow of his power on his feet to cover the entire flight of steps as though he had become the master of instant transmission, a term he always loved in his favorite show. Unfortunately, the starving children on the walls had become more of a twig than any anorexic supermodel.
The voices led him to the double doors once guarded by the tall man, Hagel. Although he was thankful for remembering his name the first time, it blared on the other side, coming from a few distraught members. He didn’t even make the doors creak open, yet his ears could now choose whether to detect an ant crawling beneath his feet or their ongoing discourse.
Hajime discerned a few words, starting with Hagel shouting, “No! We must go with this plan. Do you want to end up like Maki and the new guy? We hide, outrun them, and hide again, simple as that. There’s no point slaying one of them when twenty more will come for our heads!”
“And that’s the ‘superior’ strategy you guys came up with!?” said a member, his cape swaying as he pointed a long finger. “These things can track our very scent. I say we give all that we’ve got or die trying!”
Amidst their disagreement, another member protested, “They outnumber us in the thousands, you moron! What are you gonna do: make target practice out of them with your tiny revolver?”
“Well, at least I’ll do better than you twirling your staff one fireball at a time, coward!”
“You take that back!”
“Make me!”
Hajime decided to go inside, even if the scene wasn’t the prettiest. The two members began crawling on the table to sink their teeth at each other, now at the mercy of desperation and anger. Hagel quickly broke up their quarrel with his broad hands with what appeared to be little to no effort.
The room went silent in his presence to the point a drop of water from the crumbled ceiling sounded more like two drops. Perhaps that was the perfect analogy of the Green Wolves and their situation—a guild crumbling to one of the most feral attitudes known to humanity. It helped no one, but it was impossible to resist.
“Geez, guys, even I could never hope to be this violent,” said Hajime, stashing his hands inside his pockets. “Where’s Maki?”
Hagel loosened his grip on the two members and bowed at a nearly forty-five-degree angle, befitting his size. “I’m sorry you had to see that, mister. I’ve heard from her that your people often apologize like this.”
“Well, you’re not wrong. Just don’t overdo it like you are now. Anyway, where is she?”
Hagel stood straight, showing a face of slight embarrassment before pointing toward the exit. “She’s in her room past the hallway to the left. I must warn you, however, that she’s not in the mood.”
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“Good. Why would she be? If you heard a quarter of what I said to her, you’d despise me, too.”
“What do you mean? Maki didn’t mention anything that happened on the surface. We found both of you choking on your own blood.” Hagel presented his hand, conjuring runes over a few scars. “I never teleported people this fast in my life. Those creatures almost got me, but it was urgent. We even thought we’d never see her again.”
“Okay, so what’s this about?” asked Hajime, scratching the back of his neck.
“Well… she just yelled at us in tears. We didn’t fully understand what she said, but it was something about our fate now written in this place that won’t hold for tomorrow. We’ve never seen this side of her.”
“Oh, I think you already did when she told you guys to jump out in the fray. I’ll see what I can do.” Hajime turned to the exit, his hands still in his pockets for no reason other than thinking it made his Hawaiian shirt slightly more fashionable. “Thanks for the meal, by the way. The kids loved it.”
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He walked at his own pace toward the desired location, ready to knock at a dilapidated door with a tarnished copper knob. It had a note in front, written in Swordland’s language, which, according to the universal internet on his phone, turned out to be interchangeable with Scots Gaelic. He was surprised the only difference was their non-Latin script, which appeared more like Arabic mixed with Thai.
The words roughly translated as “Do Not Enter or Die” like it was an angsty teen’s bedroom. Without further ado, he knocked thrice, hoping to get a response without needing to wait for eternity or give up altogether. Thankfully, Maki spoke after only a moment, but it wasn’t pleasant.
“Go away, Hagel! I don’t want to hear any more of your stupid plans!” said Maki, still not as muffled as Hajime expected despite the thick walls between them. “It’s over. We’re done for.”
He chuckled, shining a pearly white grin, even if their circumstances were beyond grim. “Then, how about a chat with an arrogant rookie?” he replied.
“…Hajime?” Maki opened the door to sneak a peek, eyes showing years of misery and sorrow. She let him in without another word, her armor resting on the corner.
Hajime sat on the foot of her bed while Maki returned to curling into a fetal position. Even as he witnessed more and more sadness, he continued smiling as if his life depended on it. “I guess you have a thing with black pajamas, huh?”
“It’s our uniform,” said Maki, wiping some waterworks in her eye. “It wasn’t this tattered when we came here.”
“Came here? Isn’t this the tutorial level? What is this place anyway?”
Maki got out of her position and into a more relaxed posture, staring at a lone candle beside her. “The general told us to find some missing children near the [Starting Forest]. Those sun worshippers have gone too far this time. We found them eventually, but we went face-to-face with an even worse enemy and sought refuge in this abandoned stronghold.”
“Wait, why would there be a stronghold here? That doesn’t make sense.”
“I’m as confused as you, honestly. In the end, we were happy to live another day, but I’m afraid that ship has sailed. We’re all gonna die, and it’s all my fault.”
Hajime caressed his chin, wondering how someone who massacred slimes with a smile would suddenly be reduced to a pile of anguish. “You seem quite down in the dumps right now than before. What gives?” he asked with a bit of confidence.
“It’s easy for you to say,” Maki wiped another tear. “Do you know how long we’ve been trapped here?”
“Um, ten thousand years? One metaphorical nanosecond?”
“Five weeks… five weeks of accomplishing nothing. The world’s completely forgotten about us, so we might as well have our last dinner while we’re at it.” Maki took a swig out of a liquor bottle resembling whiskey, merely stopping when it was half empty. “Here. It’s disgusting, but it numbs the pain of an empty stomach.”
Hajime refused politely, if only because such a scenario would happen to him later than sooner. “What if I told you I can summon Big Macs whenever I like? Will your last dinner become slightly more palatable?”
Maki emptied her bottle, staring at the candle again, which continued getting smaller each minute. “Yeah, right. Multiple powers are very rare here. Even my «Essence of Past» can only reverse a few things before my meter is depleted for the day. Why not just—”
Incredible. Although Hajime seemed to be a genie in her presence, he believed everyone had an obligation to try its succulent, meaty goodness at least once. Maki snatched it from his hand like a capuchin monkey in a tourist spot, wolfing it down with even more waterworks flowing through her ducts. The average Joe might say it was a stroke on a bun, but this was a slice of heaven.
“What can I say, kid?” he said, smiling with a shrug. “I’m no hero, but I can’t just leave y’all behind. After all, friendship doesn’t happen overnight. Let’s have a wonderful dinner, and maybe after that, y’all can live five more weeks of happiness.”