Blessed with the break of dawn, Agrima seemed like an untouched forest of peace and tranquility for a moment.
Hajime wouldn’t have thought otherwise if not for the skyscrapers and cable cars on the horizon, which the two had ridden for home. Farkas caught him with a slight blush on his cheek when the only option was the Lovers’ Deck. It didn’t stop there, either, as they stepped foot together.
“Jesus H. Christ, this is awkward,” he said, extending his shoulders on the other seat. “Don’t get the wrong idea. I just thought the pink color scheme was a bit much.”
Farkas chuckled at the rather strange remark no one would ask in the first place. “You don’t need to hide anything from me, dude, even if I can’t return the feeling.”
“Nah, man, that’s not what I meant.” Hajime reached for his pockets to smoke an equally strange brand name: Breathing Blues. “Back home, people have a saying about coming out of the closet, but I guess you have an idea what that means, right?”
“Kinda, yeah. In Lupinia, we instead say jumping the mountain.”
“Good, because I never needed to do such things. When I discovered both mom and dad’s nudie mags, I realized I didn’t care whose tits and ass were hotter than the other. I yelled out to them, ‘I love them all! So sexy!’ and got grounded for a week.”
Once again, they shared the laughter for a few moments, the joys of learning their first hint of the birds and the bees before their teachers could bore them to tears on the subject. Farkas shared his experience of a girl he met who snuck into her father’s shadow puppet tapes. Indeed, it was a big eye-opener for him to learn that Lupinians made such frisky content in that art form.
Even more interesting was the coincidence of their coming-of-age journeys going in full swing once they were in 7th grade. Hajime wondered if it was similar for Paulie, but Farkas laughed much louder than before, almost like he held back on an embarrassing tale so spicy that not even Mel Brooks could come up with.
Eventually, their conversation changed. It changed far enough that they no longer discussed personal stories and more into what occurred during the contest. He remembered every detail of his fingers catching a spark as though he were a superhero back from a freak lab accident.
“It was just weird, man,” Hajime continued. “I know I’ve got the [Way of the Thunder], but I don’t think I’m even level 1 right now. Also, it’s getting pretty warm here. Mind if you open a window?”
“Sure,” Farkas obliged in a heartbeat. “Anyway, let me rephrase what you said. You might have an idea why that happened already, but if you’re still confused, let’s say we players have a much different—”
The unusual heat inside the cable car returned with a vengeance, and the humidity only worsened each second. It wouldn’t be out of the question that it was like they were in a sauna with a broken thermostat. Opening more windows did nothing to alleviate the waterfall of sweat dripping down their foreheads. Seconds later, a cascade of waving shapes bombarded his senses, especially with the six-eyed Farkas before him.
Now was a good time to call emergency services, only for his friend to fall face-first into the metal floor, and his turn to do the same loomed ever closer. Although Hajime knew he gasped for any available oxygen in this metaphorical desert of misery, his body told him to give up one last time, and he did—with a pain too dull for his nasal bones to register.
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The wind howled. Hajime could only discern the softness of grass as his eyes peeked sluggishly in his surroundings. It was all too familiar, the tall fescue beneath his feet and nothing else whenever he fought the horde. There were also boulders everywhere, as expected.
He never liked jumping to conclusions, yet someone here had a definite ax to grind, and it wasn’t Paulie’s. In fact, the wind didn’t take long to present the culprit with a near-silent sway of their long black hair. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but the man before him had much to tell, judging by his tuxedo adorned with red flames like a fallen phoenix.
The man’s eyes weren’t any less mysterious. It appeared he had the perpetual look of an unfeeling judge ready to pass him the punishment of a lifetime. He remained silent for what would’ve been hours upon hours, and all he did next was a slow hand raise near his chest. Before Hajime could ask anything in good faith, he witnessed the same hand glow like a dreadful sun in the middle of the Sahara.
“Welcome to your torment, Kato,” said the man in a juxtaposing tone not unlike a cruel blizzard of disdain.
Hajime shielded his eyes until the man decided not to give him permanent blindness. He didn’t know what to expect from such a frigid presence, but he needed to ask, “Could you not do that again, please? I might jump you if you do. I ain’t got a lot of patience after what you did to my new bud.”
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“Who said I would listen to the wishes of your ilk? That was a small taste of your torment, but you need not worry about your friend’s whereabouts. He is as sound as a newborn rabbit back in his bed. Now, before we begin…”
The man lowered his head for a polite greeting of his name: Feuer von Hans Freidrich Axel Hildebrand. He emphasized never to say it in full before pacing himself closer. The mysteries surrounding him remained, but he was kind enough to share his resume of fighting the horde for five years before his arrival.
Even with this charade of questions impossible to answer right now, Hajime raised both eyebrows in realization. “Oh, I get it. You’re one of the guys on top who thought I looked like a jackass on my first try. If so, you should probably eat a Snickers before you try to reclaim your dignity.”
“I do not need such games and insolence, Kato,” said Feuer with the same indifferent face. “If the P.L.A.Y. had any bona fide dignity beyond their vulgar delusions of pride, you may as well be their idol. They turned disheartened because you met your demise too quickly. As for me, however, I have nothing to give but all my resentment straight to the heart.”
“All right, so what are you really here for?” He gave Feuer a fair glance of his confidence and ego, only to vanish as soon as he realized he had conversed with the air.
Any sign of the bastard became no different from pure imagination. That was until a prickling jolt bristled his chin, a warning that came flashing before his eyes in the form of a fist clad in radiance and heat. The gash on his cheek went so deep that his tongue could dangle out of it.
The intense glow of Feuer’s hand dimmed again for the next blow, cracking each of his knuckles with inhuman twists and bends like a mangled puppet. “To quell my disgust, Kato,” he answered. “What more should I reveal beyond your torment? Stand tall if you can.”
Once again today, Hajime shined a pearly white grin at something brewing to be tons of fun. Feuer’s threats were like a sign that he really was in another world filled with people right out of a low-budget fantasy movie. He could only hope Feuer’s true vendetta matched his own, shaking his head with a continuous tsk of his teeth.
Feuer stopped in his tracks, raising an eyebrow. “What disappoints you so?”
“A lot of things, Mr. Shakespeare,” he said, ready to choose his favorite upgrade on the screen. “You think you’re the first motherfucker in my life to show me this dogshit sense of superiority? Whoever you think I am, I am not. Why? Because that’s how growing up works. But if you wanna know why I’m humoring your request, it’s simple: you disgust me too.”
{Welcome to Beware the Horde} [Way of the Thunder] Selected Slime Wave Incoming
Feuer responded accordingly to their duel, only that his hands appeared to stop glowing a hellish yellow. Whatever the case, the other option he picked made him draw an unassuming blade from an unassuming scabbard. There was no doubt about it; he chose the [Way of the Sword], the most basic upgrade available.
Hajime sighed, still wondering why such a man could be so committed to the cliché rival trope without irony. “I could care less how much you look down on me, man. That’s my forte against the horde, anyway. Even if I die a million times, I’ll at least have what we earthlings call fun.”
“Oh, but that is far from my intention, Kato,” said Feuer, readying his stance with a pointed thrust. “I merely yearn to see your head flying into the sun. You recall one of the [Blessings] you unlocked, do you not? Nine lives for nine tries.”
Admittedly, he didn’t expect the surprising twist. Since there was no point in delaying the inevitable with another meandering conversation, he took the opportunity to use a super skill for the first time—the almighty [Zeus Railgun]. Time began to flow like molasses through his eyes, and the surge of pure lightning in his hand grew in unruly intensity with each microsecond.
What Hajime needed to do next was simple. A row of seven rings aligned perfectly on his palm before he would create a single tiny bolt at the start, which still screeched like a thousand electricity pylons in unison. In his words, it was to be the “coolest shit in history,” and it would’ve been if he didn’t feel a sharp sting from the neck down.
Feuer, who suddenly stood behind his back a few feet away, grabbed a handkerchief from his pocket to remove the crimson stain of his blade in one swift motion, as swift as his victory. It wouldn’t be the last when he demanded Hajime to get up quickly, who came back to existence in a shroud of the ever-so-familiar “pixie dust.”
Eight kills in, Feuer showed no mercy again. Seven kills in, he switched to his left. Six kills in, his method had yet to change.
Five.
Four.
Three.
Two.
One.
GAME OVER
The wind howled, especially back in the city. All the slimes that tried to attack the two players during their duel had either met a zapping end or burning demise whenever they got close. Frankly, they never noticed their presence, but Feuer achieved the highest kill count because of the victory he would relish for a week. Silver clouds flew overhead as his gaze turned to the sky.
“My sincerest apologies, Maria, but they will never be you. Never.”