Bonifacius, Bromy, Revenberry and MrFinland were making their way down the long, winding trail of flowers.

"I hope we get long-coats," Bromy said imagining his dream uniform.

"It has to be black... or maybe a washed-out dark green?" he continued.

"I for one am not excited about these uniforms, it would obstruct combat." Bonifacius sighed, he was happy with the badge alone.

"Yeah, I don't see why you're so excited over some uniforms... I mean I dig a uniform as much as the next person... but you seem borderline obsessive." Revenberry replied looking at Bromy.

"Tch - that's what someone without any uniform prospects would say!" Bromy exclaimed.

"Whatever... s... d... druid... stabby druid..." Revenberry said uncertainly.

"Fuck! Coming up with nicknames is hard." she thought.

"What the fuck did she just-... ohhh... I get it... that was supposed to be a nickname..."

A stupid grin spread across his face as he looked at her with a look of slight pity.

"DON'T PITY ME!" she exclaimed.

"I am pitying you," Bromy said looking with even greater pity.

"That's the same thi-... oh, wait, you didn't do the thing..."

Bromy turned the MrFinland, the fish-man.

"What about you suicidal-sushi? What do you think about the uniforms?"

"Don't call me that..." MrFinland pleaded.

"I like it, though!" Bromy exclaimed.

"And as for uniforms... I think they're cool, but like... propper army and or doctor uniforms, I doubt you'll get anything like those..." replied MrFinland.

"Thanks for the input, sushi," Bromy said scratching his head.

"Uhmmm... friends... we may have a problem..." Bonifacius said stopping in his tracks.

"A problem?" asked Bromy.

They looked at the trail of flowers and saw it split into two.

"How the fuck did Eric manage to walk in two ways at the same time?!" MrFinland thought.

"Aha! To you, it may seem like it is a regular fork in the flower-trail, but to my trained eye!" he kneels down and inspects the flowers.

"Hmmm."

"Uh-huh..."

"Mmmm"

Bromy turned to his party.

"Yes, one of these is an illusion," he exclaimed.

Bonifacius began to clap his hands.

"Amazing, how has thou done that?" he asked.

"It's a special skill I unlocked!" Bromy continued.

Skill Name: 'Pattern recognition.'

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

Skill description: "Allows the user to not be a retard and just fucking think for once!"

Bromy explained.

"I see..." Bonifacius scratched his beard in fascination.

"Hmmm, I wonder where he developed this skill..." Revenberry said looking at Bromy with suspicion.

MrFinland looked at them and back to Bromy.

"I think that was sarcasm..." he finally said awkwardly.

"Dear god! Another person with the pattern-recognition skill!" Bromy exclaimed taking a step back.

"How about we focus on the flowers!?" MrFinland suggested, he was clutching a bow since they left town, ready to shoot Eric.

"Right, well... you're the tracker," Bromy exclaimed gesturing towards the two paths.

He walked up to the first one and got down on all fours intensively looking at the flowers, then he looked at the second one.

"Yeah... I have no clue what to do..." he confessed standing up.

"Just use the tracking skill that is definitely available at level-whatever-you-are," Bromy said crossing his arms.

Beads of sweat began to form on MrFinland's face.

"Yeah... you see... I don't really have the skill..." he confessed.

"I actually got the hunter skill... not the tracker skill..." he explained.

Bromy let out a sigh, "Why did I somehow know it wouldn't be that easy?"

"Oh, that's right - pattern recognition!"

"Look, I'm sorry! I just really wanted to take Eric down!" he exclaimed.

"I'm sure Eric put you through something tough, but pulling a suicide-kill is just throwing a tantrum and saying "Oh no, my life is already used, guess I'll die" " Bromy sighed.

"Then what should I do?!" MrFinland demanded.

"Fuck, I have no idea! I just barely made it through the provisional medicine course in my country..." he thought looking as confident as ever.

"What would the boss do?" he thought.

A few years back in the game...

"Now, at some point, you're going to run into someone who questions your scientific creations!" exclaimed the black-haired man with a ponytail, he wore an overly long lab coat.

"For the last time, who are you and what are you doing in my guild-room!?" Bromy demanded.

"Tsk tsk tsk, I am Malagmus, and I have chosen you as my pupil!" exclaimed the ponytail man.

"Yeah... I'm good; thanks though." Bromy sighed.

"So if anybody ever questions what you do, there is a three-step solution," he explained.

"My God, he's still talking...." Bromy sighed.

"Step one: use a metaphor to sound deep," Malagmus advised.

"So let's say I'm stabbing you and somebody walks in, I say..."

He cleared his throat and put on a theatrical serious-face.

"I cannot let this man be the only sun-dried tomato in the bush..." he exclaimed.

"That... is fucking stupid..." Bromy sighed.

"What?! No, I'll prove it works!" he said suddenly looking flustered.

"Call someone for help, say "There is a stranger in my guild-room" or something."

Bromy walked up to the door "There is a stranger in my guild-room! He's doing some weird teacher thing!" Bromy exclaimed.

"Oh fuck it's Malagmus again." said one of the heavily armoured people heading towards Bromy's door.

The large, black-bearded man with side-burns entered the room, he looked around and saw Malagmus.

Malagmus cleared his throat.

He sat opposite the window such that the light from outside made him look cool and flicked his hair, saying: "Think of life as a canvas, you can paint anything onto it - but I just want to make sure nobody paints over yours, go ahead, burn it, or stab it, but if anyone, you'll be the one to destroy your canvas." Malagmus said shooting finger-pistols at Bromy.

Bromy not looking impressed looked to the armoured guy and then to Malagmus, eagerly awaiting his removal.

Moments later the armoured man burst into tears before logging out.

Bromy looked around in confusion, he was stunned.

"Next you're going to say "How the fuck did that work?!" " Malagmus put on a theatrical pose, covering his face with one palm and pointing at Bromy with the other.

"How the fuck did that work!?"

"OH SHIT!"

Bromy looked at Malagmus who seemingly awaited some form of laughter.

"What?" asked Bromy.

"Tsk... I hoped you'd get the reference..." he sighed.

"What reference?"

"...nevermind..." Malagmus sighed.

The next day.

"Alright! Lesson two!" Malagmus exclaimed upon seeing Bromy enter the room.

"Oh, wow, you're actually still here..."

"Yeah, you locked the door, and I can't teleport out of guild-protected land, so thanks for that," Malagmus replied, his grin never wavering.

"Oh... how was that?" asked Bromy.

"I've been pissing in the corner, over there." he pointed into one of the corners of the room.

"This is a game... you didn't have to piss in my room."

"Yeah, you did lock me in here."

"This is my room." Bromy rebuked.

A while of awkward silence occurred.

"Diversion technique, level two!" he exclaimed.

"Still doing this I see..." Bromy thought.

"If you have to justify something you do, use a small child in the story, go ahead, call for help." he gestured towards the door.

Bromy let out a sigh.

He opened the door slightly and called out into the hall.

"Hey, guys! It's Malagmus again, he won't leave me alone!"

Moments later a mage, wielding a long wooden staff with a red gem and wearing grey robes with a golden trim entered.

"Alright, you have to leave," said the mage with as sigh,

Malagmus turned to him, once again putting on a theatrical depth to his performance.

"Damn, it - WizzRd32! I once knew a boy by the name of WizzRd31!" he exclaimed.

"He's not even bothered to change the name?!" Bromy thought.

"Poor bastard died, fell down the stairs and lived as a vegetable while trying to remove a handsome and non-aggressive man from the room of a close friend... please, learn from my mistakes! Don't make me go through this... again..." Malagmus forced a single tear to roll down his eye.

"I - I never realised... I'm so sorry..." the mage quickly shuffled out of the room leaving Bromy in awe and Malagmus extremely proud of his performance.

"...How do you do that?!" Bromy exclaimed.

"Finally caught your interest, eh?" he asked.

Bromy nodded.

"I shall teach you the art of madladdery and medicine, in return, I ask you keep this world interesting in the future!"

"Now then, advice number three!" he exclaimed.

In the present day...

Bromy remembered the words of his teacher, and he finally spoke up.

"Technique three, if you can't get them to think your actions are deep and you can't have them feel guilty... make them laugh!"

He cleared his throat.

"I threw a boomerang a few years ago..." he began, his voice sounding stiff.

"Now I live in constant mental-agony!" he exclaimed.

"I mean constant fear!" he exclaimed.

Bonifacius performed a fake laugh out of pity but Bromy knew he didn't have the charisma and confidence Malagmus had.