A bit more window shopping had never hurt anybody. It wasn’t all in vain, as Hajime used his [Insta-Warp] card for the first time, learning not to freak out like a chicken on cocaine mid-transmission. The crowd sure had a story to tell for their peers. To think their beloved Farkas was even there to put up with such a grown man.
“Relax, take a deep breath.” Farkas rubbed his shoulders in comfort. Any more of this hysteria, and they’d probably have to try tomorrow instead, lest they miss their training program coming an hour away.
“Relax?” he said, sweating bullets across his face. “I could see my head exploding in the dead of space at any moment, bruh!”
“That’s gonna happen. Even if you see yourself deep in the planet’s core, your card won’t do shit. Just think of your most desired destination, and you’re good.”
Gaining a fair amount of confidence, Hajime straightened his back and closed his eyes in preparation. He held his card tightly as he envisioned the one place they hadn’t visited in Agrima yet: a local steakhouse. How far he would end up didn’t matter as long as it didn’t result in instant decapitation or other cruel mishaps. Focusing was key.
A bright, yellowish aura began to glow from his feet, traveling around him with numerous particles dissipating left and right. In less time than a housefly’s wingbeat, he disappeared in a cloud of even more “pixie dust,” as the citizens called it. He opened his eyes again, and sure enough, it was the aroma of sweet, savory beef cooked to perfection.
Farkas followed suit, twirling his card like a basketball. “I’m impressed. You’re getting the hang of how things work here quite fast. Just don’t overthink things next time.”
“Thanks,” cackled Hajime. The steakhouse proved far more spacious than he imagined, enough to have a fancy live band in the corner. Although they played some form of jazz, it sure wasn’t Kenny G and more like a jam session straight out of New Orleans. As such, he ordered a table where he could relish the fun melody not too far or too near. “By the way, how did you know where I was going?” he asked Farkas.
“Well, it’s because—”
“Okay, you know what, screw that dumbass question,” he interjected, slumping on his chair. “You probably just know this city like the back of your hand, but something has been burning inside my mind since that day. You might have a clue what it is already.”
“What would that be?”
“Why in the ever-loving Christ am I still walking on two legs after all that?”
Farkas indulged in a mouthful of ribs before answering the question, stuffing his cheeks to their limit before a hefty gulp. “It’s simpler than you think, really. I don’t know why myself, but no one truly dies when facing the horde. You will, however, die in any other circumstance.”
“Circumstances being?”
“Oh, you know, car crashes, falling off ledges, playing hero during a bank robbery, all the horrific stuff. Or at least that’s how it is for the average Joe walking by us.”
“Yeah, I noticed that while you were away for ketchup. Does this shit look average to you?” Hajime tensed his fingers, aiming to stab his plate with a butterknife. The blunt tip tore through his steak like floral foam before eventually shattering the plate into a million pieces. The result was good silverware firmly stuck two-thirds into the mahogany wood. “I guess we’ve got superpowers now, huh?” he said, never noticing the angered staff behind him.
Despite witnessing the most unorthodox behavior in a single day, Farkas brayed like a hyena watching a game show. “Yes, you’re right, but you’ll have to find that out later. I’m afraid it’s time for our training.”
“Oh, what? We haven’t even tried the chili fries! You’ll pay for everything, though, right?”
“Sorry, dude, but rules are rules. All players are obliged to grow stronger every day, you know?” Farkas shrugged. “Also, yeah, I’ll pay for everything. Don’t worry.”
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Hajime prepared himself again with his card at hand. The only thing he had to think about for their next destination was two words: training program. Like the steakhouse, he didn’t know where he would end up, but with someone like Farkas on his side, he was eager to meet the others. Hopefully, this certain Paulie was indeed a great guy to be around.
“So, you ready?” said Farkas, standing behind him.
“I’m ready when you are, dude.” He had a bit of fun echoing his words. He’d probably do it again if they finished training quicker than the rest of the P.L.A.Y. division awaiting them, a name that was admittedly too on the nose for his taste. One might wonder what contrived words they used for such an acronym.
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For the second time, the “pixie dust” led Hajime to a location he had never stepped foot on, or at least that was his expectation. Indeed, he didn’t know much about the training program, but at first glance, he immediately recognized where they stood. His eyes didn’t get deceived. It was the same open field where his shameful demise took place.
Oh, shit, not again! Hajime clenched his fists, more than ready and careful not to underestimate the gooey bastards surrounding them under any perceived notion. Taking no chances, he lunged at the nearest slime in sight. That was until it met a different end before he could even land a hit.
As the slime tried to jump as a counterattack, it caught itself between an invisible wall, frying its whole body like magma until it was a pile of ash on the ground just a foot away from him. For the first time, and maybe the only time, Hajime had his jaws dropping for such a vicious species.
“I’d advise you not to get close to the barrier’s edge,” echoed a voice in the distance. “It’s a powerful skill created by one of our best of the best. As your proud mentor, I welcome you, Mr. Hajime. Disappoint me or not, you’ll always be a player in my eyes.”
He turned around, noticing Farkas being too ecstatic to introduce him to their titan of an instructor. No other word would’ve described the man he gazed at for a few moments that day any better. His shoulders were broader than a fire exit, and he towered more than the tallest lampposts. Additionally, his full red beard would put any lion to shame.
“I’m Paulie, pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Hajime. Farkas has told me a lot about you on the phone.”
“Well, the pleasure’s all mine,” said Hajime, scratching his head as he walked closer. “Sorry if this sounds rude, but it’s just that I’ve never seen— Wait, you guys have phones?”
“Of course! It’s mandatory for the game we’re in.” Paulie let out a hearty laugh, resting an ax of appropriate size on his shoulder. “Just hold up your hand like you’re holding a real one right now.”
He did as he was told in a heartbeat, curious about what spin the otherworld had on such complicated technology. Thankfully, it exceeded what he could think of in a lifetime. He witnessed the same “pixie dust” appear on his hand, slowly manifesting into a display screen, a few side buttons, and finally, a metal casing. A navy blue color scheme would’ve been perfect, but gold wasn’t too bad.
His new phone had everything, to say the least, down to the always familiar icons for music and web browsing. The most striking difference was an application that resembled a typical fantasy mobile game, showing all kinds of monsters. Without a doubt, it was a game within a game aptly named…
{Welcome to Beware the Horde} 3 Blessings Unlocked Harder, Better, Faster, Stronger Defeat your first wave. Gain the ability to choose an upgrade at the start of the game Who Is Your Favorite Fearless Hero? Kill 20 monsters in a single attack. Gain a total of 9 automatic revives Witness Me! Survive your first boss for one minute. Every hit from the enemy counts as a kill
Hajime had amazement written all over him. The game’s idea of progression seemed too good to be true, too overpowered, even if a trillion enemies would flood the field at any moment. But as always, the pop culture references were tacky at best. “Man, I wish they picked movie quotes from other planets instead.”
“You’re not missing out much,” said Farkas. “We Lupinians, for example, lean more on patriotic biopics than any other genre.”
Paulie cleared his throat, calling everyone’s attention near the center. He began by spinning his ax up and down—round and round—and up and down again. It was quite the show for a man his size, appearing more like a ribbon dance of the highest elegance before it finally landed back on his shoulder.
“Good day, everyone! My name is Paulie Phoebus, and I’ll be your teacher for today. Please, call me Paul if you must.”
“Hi, Paul!” said all the players in unison.
“All right. Before we begin, I’d like to say a few things in my mind. One, I love a good leg of salted pork. Two, anything with too much sugar is a no for me. And three, we can all agree that if Mr. Hajime didn’t have his head up his rectum, he would’ve won no sweat. Any questions?”
The P.L.A.Y. trainees exchanged glances at each other until the air filled with the mixed sound of laughter and agreement. Never before had they seen a prime example of a gifted man flying too close to the sun, only it was a surprise attack from the weakest boss.
If Hajime were in his puberty years, several veins would pop on his forehead in retaliation, and not in a comedic manner. Fortunately, being not a fan of hospital bills for an aneurysm, he reveled in his own folly the loudest, shocking all for the rest of their days. “Paul, do me a favor.”
“Oh, s-sure, what is it?”
“…make me a better killing machine.”
There it was: the maniacal, pearly white grin foretold to Paulie beforehand. Not an ounce of Hajime’s self-esteem got crushed to oblivion. If anything, it had doubled, yet he couldn’t help but return the favor with his own excitement. “You bet your sweet ass I will!”