Theo once came into the fray of battling the otherworldly intruders, hoping he and his lieutenant would make history with their findings. Frankly, they did, but he’d burn any history book detailing the horrid image of «Pronghorn Leopards» flayed alive beneath the flowers of hell, still clinging to the fading embers of their life with each low-moaning growl.
Not being a warrior of light, he had been aware of the game’s set of rules and the uncannily realistic existence of NPCs since he knew how to spell his name. Perhaps now, it was time to regret his indifferent opinion about them compared to the slew of reborn heroes, who deemed them artificial constructs made to kill for level progression. Their agony was accurate; their agony was palpable; their agony was hard to watch.
“Zuriel…” said Theo, carried by the tone of a soldier who had just seen all the horrors of the world, “do you have any «Red Nectar» to spare?”
“I do, sir, but why?” Zuriel replied, scrolling halfway through his inventory until he found the desired item.
“Heal them like you’re healing an infant, delicate to the touch. You’ve got my back if they start roaring at us after the recovery. It’s far worse than I thought. I never should’ve dragged you into this.”
“I’m not going anywhere, sir, but one thing still confuses me.”
“What? What confuses you?” Theo turned around, his eyes showing a thousand cries for the salvation of such painful sin inflicted upon the innocent, whether real or not. “If I return and tell them everything, they’ll become easy prey for those things out there. You and I stand a chance. They don’t. Not even the Brazen Couple or the newcomer can help us.”
“I grieve with you, sir, really. You have a stout heart,” Zuriel reassured, holding a bottle of «Red Nectar» shaped like an upside-down lampshade at the base. “It’s just that you seem to have forgotten the turtle we’re standing on. It’s still a boss battle.”
Theo had his eyes slightly lit up, realizing what they must do to complete their adventure for the day. No matter the justification, the continental behemoth had to perish in a bright explosion of pixels by their hands. His request might as well join the leopards on the other side, pointless until the end and depressing at that.
However, as any decent general worth their salt would be, he still had compassion worn on his sleeve. “Thank you, Zuriel, for reminding me what we should really do. But tell me, do you think any living being deserves this torture?”
“No, sir. Not at all.”
“Exactly, and we’ll leave it at that while you heal them. That’s an order.”
Zuriel bowed at his presence before moving closer to the bloodied scene, bringing a stench into the air the average Joe would quickly assume to be a landfill of rotting flesh. Tossing the «Red Nectar» high in the air, it levitated in place and rotated on its axis to sprinkle a glistening shower of the color in question.
In a world of magic, skill trees, and dual-wielding, miracles had the potential to be a dime a dozen. Upon contact with their exposed flesh, the leopards regained their hide like spray paint that had finished a freshly cut door, followed by patches of fur sprouting randomly. Theo always wanted to see their famed striped pattern tapering into spots near the belly, and it didn’t disappoint.
His heart slowly drifted into a calm meadow of thoughts, sighing with eyes closed, knowing a bunch of “unimportant” mobs would get to live another day. It could’ve been the flimsiest simulation of wildlife in the game, for all he cared. They needed help and relief, more than enough to sway his soul to justice.
The «Pronghorn Leopards» didn’t take long to notice their presence, with several staring into their disposition as though it signaled an appetizer battle before they’d hunt down the actual culprits. With his sword at the ready, Theo wondered if their predatory instincts were similar to the earthly leopard that caught his fascination a year ago. Swordland could handle at least some mundanity now and then.
Surprisingly, they continued to stare for a while, even as Zuriel threatened them with a bright surge of lightning in his palm. Then, the impossible rammed their senses into confusion. Some acted like house cats, craving a head scratch, while the rest disappeared into the untamed jungle without fanfare.
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
Theo chuckled, sheathing his blade, his cape swaying with the same indifferent breeze that brought light to their suffering. “An incredible sight to behold, wouldn’t you agree? My father would’ve sent them to purgatory faster than he could down a barrel of whimberry juice.”
“Yessir, indeed,” said Zuriel, wiping the worries off his forehead. “Now, how do we track the new strange-looking goblins?”
“Simpler than you think,” he replied. “I like thinking they’re not so different from our goblins, hiding under makeshift caves with boulders or sticks. That or they’re already standing to the right of you.”
“What? What do you—”
Incredible. Once Theo gave up their nearly silent stealth under the shrubs and over the canopy, they charged with rage, screeching a “battle cry” reminiscent of a thin old man choking on a piece of broccoli. In contrast, their sprint cycle was reminiscent of a cheating athlete on all sorts of enhancement pills.
“Jump, Zuriel! Jump as far as the moon goes!” he said, steeling himself for the initial wave. More importantly, he didn’t think his lieutenant would accept his command without question, following his leap toward the heavens not too far behind.
They had no reason to doubt the other at that point. The downward slash from a single goblin wielding a rusted blade managed to awaken their eyes to the fact that size didn’t matter much in many instances. It wasn’t a case of trees getting uprooted with as much ease as pulling weeds from a garden. They merely vanished upon the shockwave, slicing through the air at a ten-mile stroke, which only their screen’s digital map could show its entirety.
Landing back into the fight, Theo combed his hair with slight difficulty due to wearing the metal gloves. “Summon a thundercloud, a massive one.”
“Your wish is my command, sir.” Zuriel moved his hands close to each other, closing his eyes in concentration. Eventually, the skies dulled into a pale shade as if a storm was about to rain down on their heads.
Unfortunately for the goblins, the only thing raining down on them was a blinding strike of nature’s superheated plasma that increased in number by less than a millisecond. Those lucky enough not to turn into charred modern art pieces until the wind took them in dust had instead suffered a frenzied, twitching “dance” on the ground. One strike, two strikes, and even twelve at once, they dwindled.
Theo quickly stepped in and showed his enemies that lightning wasn’t the only thing that would rain down on them today. It was a matter of whenever his mind decided to do more than slicing them to ribbons with his lone blade. Now, with his deified power aptly named «Essence of Sword», the electric storm disappeared at his command.
As though he had kickstarted Armageddon from above, the goblins met their end through a swarm of blades of various shapes and sizes. They ranged from being no shorter than a standard dagger to being the size of the Hand of the White Maiden. On the plus side, the attack always left a clean cut on their heads.
Many other goblins charged at them from behind. It would’ve succeeded without their deafening shrieks, but to their credit, they turned a hundred more acres into a dilapidated area of sadness in retaliation. Theo made sure not only to return the favor tenfold but to begin using one of his favorite moves, albeit named by his late grandmother.
“Needle Party!” he shouted, raising his hand in front. The trembling ground proved he still didn’t lose his touch, summoning a field of everything sharp and pointed beneath their fungus-infested feet. Their heads came rolling, their hands kept tumbling, and their bodies came flying.
Theo would’ve loved to continue the fight until the goblins lost their allegiance with the «Zaratan» forever, perhaps in an hour or two. It was too bad his daydreaming in the middle of battle got robbed by an equally encompassing situation from above. If anything, his heart raced, and his forehead flushed with more worries than his lieutenant.
As the remaining goblins ran with their tails tucked between their legs, countless orbs of pure white energy began growing in the sky, pulsating with spikes as it intensified in brightness. No amount of human-made magic could explain the next Armageddon aimed at their presence, but he gasped in brief thought, dropping his treasured sword with a quivering hand.
“Stay close to me, Zuriel!” he said, running toward him like a doting father ready to shield his beloved son. In fact, all they needed was a shield for now, with many blades emerging from the earth around them until they curved into a tightly sealed dome.
The brightness overtook them from the inside, but losing hope now would be suicide.
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A meandering silence remained unchanged back at Castle Brand. Told to wait for the general at his “special reception room,” Hajime and the Brazen Couple got tired of helping themselves with the next plate of oatmeal cookies and almond milk from a neat little chest on a coffee table. Indeed, it was a scrumptious delight at first, not so much on the twelfth serving.
It didn’t help when the only other thing he had to witness was Tokiwa killing time by making origami cranes with the napkins. Even with a giggling smile for her fiance, she went all teary-eyed through her lengthy yawn. Haruto soon followed, twirling his pistols with such speed that they seemed frozen at certain angles.
Hajime had his own self-entertainment, brought by an urge to catch any fly or mosquito passing by. Their wing beat reverberated in his ears as clearly as premium headphones, and as usual, the hair on his chin tingled from the slightest twitch. He caught both of them by their legs and inspected them closely with his sagged gaze.
Man, what am I doing with my life?