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Chapter 23: Lifting Feathers

Chapter 23

Lifting Feathers

About three hours later we were absolutely exhausted. I felt like I’d been weight lifting all day, not lifting something as light as a feather. My body was dripping with sweat, pooling down into the poor and unsuspecting couch. It deserved better.

All my sweat and straining had given me the ability to move the feather an inch off the table, and with one eye open. For about five seconds.

Stephen could make it fly pretty far up, but it wasn't steady and as soon as he opened his eyes he lost it all. Neither one of us seemed like a well of energy.

“Great work, you two. That’s enough for today. I need to assign you your homework before you get whisked away to the belly of the beast.”

I was glad to have an excuse to stop. I fell back into the chair, almost drowning in the pool of my own sweat. Stephen similarly collapsed.

“You look like shit,” he said.

“Believe me, we both do.” I said, panting.

“I can confirm that.” Kenzo supplied his third party viewpoint, convincing Stephen that, yes, he did indeed look like shit, too.

“Did you do what I asked yesterday?”

“Yeah, but it didn’t go over too well.” I sent him the message we wrote and the 100% rejection messages.

“Hm. We have a long road ahead of us.”

“Do we really need help?” Stephen asked.

“Yeah, you’re turning us into Magic super soldiers, why do we need anyone else?”

Kenzo laughed. “Everyone needs help. Even the strongest person can not always stand on their own. So, yes, for our purposes we will need help.”

“They clearly don’t want our help.” Stephen crossed his arms. “Besides, the average battle royale enjoyers are, uhhh, not the best kind of people. We are better off on our own.”

The man wagged his finger. “Don’t be so quick to judge. You need them if you want to take this beast down. Trust me, for now. I’ll reveal our battle plan in due time.

“But between now and then, your homework will always be the same: recruit the others.”

Stephen grumpily crossed his arms harder.

“How are we supposed to do that?” I asked.

“Talk to them.”

“While a monster is after us?” Stephen said.

“While everyone is either fighting the monster or killing off one another?” I added.

“I didn’t say it would be easy. But you have today and then six others. Plenty of time to get to know your fellow strugglers. Observe them, try and talk to them. In and out of combat. Make connections.”

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“You know how anti social Stephen is,” I said. “Maybe you’re hoping that I’m not as bad as he is and can lead us through this but, no, I am just like him. Maybe worse.”

“She’s worse,” Stephen unhelpfully added.”I at least have some writing buddies.”

“You keep saying that, but I’ve yet to see anyone at that writing nook. Is the robot bartender your best buddy?”

Stephen opened his mouth for a retort but Kenzo cut him off. “I know you are both introverts. In all honesty getting your enemies on your side might be harder than anything I teach you here. And unfortunately I can’t provide much hands-on direction with how to make friends. But you both can do it. You made friends with each other. Now do that almost a hundred more times.”

“How did you say that with a straight face?” I asked. “We are doomed.”

“Would it help if I made it a quest?”

[ Teacher’s Quest 1: Get out and be social!

Make one friend

Friends made 0/1 ]

“Oh yes, that changes everything.” I sighed and moved the quest marker out of my vision.

“I suggest you both clean yourself up and prepare yourselves. I will see you again tomorrow. And, again, don’t get discouraged by the gargantuan task you’ve been given. Today, focus on one thing. Make a friend.”

WIth that, we were dismissed and Stephen and I went back to his writing nook.

“Make a friend?” I said. “It took me like twenty years to make you, how the hell are we gong to make one in a day?”

Stephen collapsed into the booth, shaking his head. “I have no idea. And don’t forget–that’s just the beginning.”

I fell into the booth dramatically. “Ninety-six friends. I can’t even go there. That’s just, that makes me want to throw up.”

“Should we give up?” Stephen asked. "I'm sure there are lots of people who have already."

I shook my head. "We've been working at this since we met. Which, okay, hasn't been the longest time, but still. If we don't gain entry here we are barred from trying the normal way. We can't just give up."

Stephen sighed. "Why the fuck did we have to go into that stupid cave?"

I didn't know. The tournament was our first hope in decades on improving our crappy place in life. It just seemed cruel we would be given this impossible task to complete and, if we failed, it would all be taken away.

An alarm went off, scaring us both. A timer was in both of our vision.

[ 10 minutes until match start. Prepare yourselves.

Also: your full inventory will be available every day in these matches so give you a fighting chance. Good luck! ]

How nice of them. What could we possibly bring that would do any good against it? I didn't think anyone was packing a nuke.

I watched the timer slowly counting down. Stephen was in a similar trance, likely filled with his own worries. At five minutes remaining he spoke up, “Do you know what you’re bringing?”

Having gotten used to the silence, his sudden speaking startled me. “I’ve only got one truly great item.”

“You do? What is–,” Before he could even finish speaking I equipped the fishbowl and grinned at him. “Darcy, please, you gotta abandon that stupid thing.”

“I refuse.” I crossed my arms.

He just shook his head. “You realize just one poke of that monster would kill you with that on, right?”

“One hit will kill anybody, no matter how much armor they have. So what’s the big deal?”

He had no retort to that.

“I’m gonna make this helmet a thing. People are going to love it one day.”

Stephen laughed. “If that day ever comes… I don’t even know what I could offer as a bet.”

“Sam.”

“What?” He asked.

“If I make the fishbowl a viable option for people you will actually make an effort to befriend Sam.”

“That's what you want? For such a gargantuan task as that, all you want is for me to be friends with a salmon fillet?”

“It’s a big ask, isn’t it? Are you saying it’s not? You can do it already?”

He waved his hand. “No, just our brief peace the last time I saw him was difficult. You want me to be friends with him? Impossible… as impossible as making that helmet anything other than a joke, So, okay. You got a deal.”

I already held my hand out to him and he took it, sealing the deal with a shake.

“Sam is going to be so happy.”

“You just effectively sealed the deal that we are never going to be full friends.”

“We’ll see.” I let go of his hand and sat back, happy for a brief moment, forgetting all about the trials we faced. But the timer reached its final countdown, bringing me back in full force.

“Ten seconds,” Stephen said.