"Carl, how are you this fucking interesting?" Volcatia demanded.

It seemed impossible, but every time she felt herself begin to get even the slightest bit bored, he always revealed some new layer that drew her back, something that…

One of the main doors of the garage screeched as the metal was wrenched aside by a bulky man wearing armor. A pendant of guardianship hung around his neck, marking him as a gladiator who was currently working to enforce the laws of the Empire within the city. Judging by the ease with which he'd torn the heavy steel away and the speed he'd moved, he was at least a little strong. Also, he seemed used to his strength and speed, which marked him as a veteran fighter.

Could he defeat Carl, who was also a little strong?

Would the fight destroy the chair Volcatia was sitting in?

She grimaced.

It seemed like this was going to be another fucking disruption.

"There you are," he said, his eyes fixing on Mina.

Volcatia stopped watching.

She hadn't been thinking very far ahead, otherwise she might have…

It wasn't that interesting.

Nah, these types of things were always the same.

"Fuck me," she grumbled to her friend. "I'll be back."

She groaned as she realized she would have to leave the chair.

At that moment, if she had to choose between fucking on a bed or just laying in this chair, she would find it a difficult choice.

Volcatia enjoyed fucking.

It was a great way to pass time usually.

There was the chase, the conquest, pleasure of varying kinds, and it could take any amount of time between a few minutes to a few days in total.

Time that she wouldn't miss once it had passed.

It wasn't her favorite way to waste time though.

Volcatia didn't have a favorite anymore.

She moved, then reached down and grabbed the man's armored wrist as he reached for the edge of one of the workshop's big metal doors. "Why?" she asked, wondering how it would be.

Maybe it would be simple.

She liked simple.

Simple usually meant boring, though, and she hated things that were boring.

The man jumped back, then stumbled and fell when his arm didn't move with him. "What the fuck?" He looked down at her in surprise, but his expression changed quickly to a scowl. "Let go. I'm guarding."

The statement was a warning. Interfering with the official duty of a gladiator guarding the city was punishable by death.

"Are you?" she asked.

Gladiators who were guarding the city didn't always act solely for the purpose of enforcing the law.

It wasn't honorable, but it also wasn't illegal most of the time.

"Official duty," he lied with a nod. He jerked his shoulder backwards, but his arm remained fixed in place by her light grip. "Let—"

Volcatia stopped watching.

She moved and grabbed the man's wrist. "Who was it?" she asked this time.

The man jumped back, then stumbled and fell when his arm didn't move with him. "W—"

"Right, right," she interrupted. She had a considerable amount of time to waste, but she hated when people wasted that time for her. "But who sent you?" She squeezed slightly harder.

The man scowled down at her. "I am Decimus Cincius Ivmarus, ranked twelfth in the arena. If you're seeking a fight, you've chosen poorly."

"Is this a fucking joke?" Volcatia asked as she started to laugh.

She always asked when this sort of thing happened.

One of these times it had to be a joke.

It made her laugh, didn't it?

The man growled, and his knee came up to—

Volcatia stopped watching.

She was getting bored.

It was a simple fucking question to answer, wasn't it?

She moved and grabbed the man's wrist again. "Who was it?" she asked again.

Tedious.

This time she used her grip as leverage, drawing the man forward and then smashing his face into the nicely-paved road. She stomped on the back of his head a little in case he didn't fully understand that he was weak.

He let out a grunt when his face dug farther into the hard, black surface.

"Tell me. Who?"

"Fuck you," the man growled, trying to push himself up with his free hand. "Official. Business."

"You're lying. I have a skill."

Sometimes being direct was the only way.

"Now who's lying?" he grunted. "A skill like that can't exist."

Sometimes it wasn't.

Volcatia stopped watching again.

How many fucking times was this already?

She wanted a drink. Maybe some of that wine she knew Carl had stowed away with his Inventory skill.

What a great skill.

Maybe she'd learn it.

Could be a good way to waste time.

But now she'd give this one last try before she gave up and made the idiot fuck off.

She moved, grabbed the man by his shoulder as he reached forward, and shoved him over onto his back.

The street shattered under him from the force.

"Who sent you?" she asked, letting a little of her impatience crackle through.

The man's eyes bulged.

She took a step forward and placed her foot on his chest. His armor changed to ash, and the flat tread of her shoe pressed into him. "Who?" she asked once more.

Rhyming was fun.

There were few things more satisfying and funny to her than telling someone off while rhyming.

Something about the difference between her speaking in rhyme and another person struggling to respond while just using normal speech…

It was just too funny.

This wasn't the time for that though.

She only wanted to hear the answer she expected to hear.

It was another boring situation.

She was sure of it.

"B-B-Belenus's wife, the Char," the man stammered.

Volcatia stopped watching.

It was just as boring as she'd expected.

She moved behind the man and grabbed his shoulders as he reached forward.

"Wha—"

Before he could finish saying whatever she didn't care about, she tossed him back towards D-one in a high arc that she knew would take a while to yield its results.

Volcatia wasn't a very smart woman.

Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.

She knew that.

If she'd been smart, her life wouldn't have gone the way it had.

She really wanted that fucking drink.

There was the option to do something with what she'd learned.

She thought about it briefly, but she decided she didn't really care.

She wasn't a hero.

----------------------------------------

Volcatia lay on the roof with one foot crossed over her bent knee and her arms crossed behind her head.

Things were getting too intimate, and that made her uncomfortable.

She'd said she'd have Carl's children.

It was mostly a joke.

Maybe she would.

Great way to waste time, she imagined.

Probably not, though.

Too tedious.

Yeah, it was a joke.

He recognized it as a joke.

Obviously.

What kind of fucking idiot would have ten or twenty kids?

Then she'd joked about being friends.

It was a joke.

Wasn't it?

She'd meant it as one when she said it.

She was sure of that.

But then Carl, being as serious as he always was, took it seriously.

It was weird.

She didn't have friends.

She used to, yeah, but that was a long time ago.

That was before she'd had a dream.

Before she'd sought victory.

She'd had a family then too.

If anything, Carl reminded her of her older brother.

Just a little.

He'd always been too serious.

That was too depressing.

Volcatia didn't like it.

She lost herself when she got depressed.

What to do…

Friends…

Weird.

She had acquaintances.

She had a lot of them, when she considered it.

She'd wasted time in many places, and it was hard to do that without learning at least a few names.

Some were everyday acquaintances.

They were the ones she saw regularly.

She'd seen some of them today, in fact, though only one had recognized her.

Maybe.

Others were closer, usually lovers.

They ranged from a minstrel with a pretty voice and prettier legs she'd coupled frantically with behind a tavern one night, to the betrothed son of a wealthy noble she'd seduced in a harbor city for a week of amusement, to the girl he was betrothed to—just for fun—for a few days after, to an older man who called himself an 'adventurer' she'd hired as a guide for something or other after catching sight of his glorious, forged leg muscles on a hot afternoon, and then there was even an elf on one occasion when she'd decided to see what that was about and tracked a group of them down.

She'd tried to add one of the so-called demons to that list of acquaintances one time, but they weren't really that welcoming.

There were others, too, but…

Volcatia frowned.

She knew she'd been thinking about something else, but she couldn't remember what it was when she went back to it.

Legs?

Probably.

She was usually thinking about them.

She'd seen some good ones today.

Carl's were decent, but she really wasn't interested in him like that.

Mina's, she imagined, were cute, but she was too…

There was a reason why she wasn't drawn to the girl, but she couldn't place it.

Fun to talk to, though.

Spoke like one of the Imperatrix's adjutants, and Volcatia had the feeling that she was Smart, which was interesting in its own way.

The ones of the so-called automaton fornicatiēns were perfect, she imagined based on the fit of her overalls and her sense of things.

Her interest was cooled significantly by the blank stare she'd gotten on their most recent encounter.

Disappointing since it had horns, which were new and interesting.

There were various people she'd seen walking around the city.

None particularly worth calling out to, which was just as well considering the bargain she'd made.

Now she remembered.

But it was so awkward!

Volcatia scowled.

Things were continuing on like they should, but it was seeming like she'd need to come back to Onyxfell again in the future.

It wasn't time yet.

There was more time to waste.

There was always more time to waste.

So boring.

City of Wrath?

Now that was a joke.

The city was nothing like it had been.

Better in some ways, yeah, but worse overall.

Not that she really had anywhere she'd rather be.

One place was as good as any.

The days passed by, but most of them were boring.

Maybe she'd try this friends thing?

She tapped her raised foot to an imagined beat.

No need to decide now.

The day was over, she decided.

Carl was being a father to the girl he'd saved.

Was Carl a hero?

That seemed like the sort of thing a hero would do.

Volcatia didn't really care one way or the other.

It wasn't what made him interesting.

He was interesting though.

Whether in the way he'd landed on his face and then claimed it was "just how he jumps over walls", which made her laugh way too hard, the way he seemed to not care at all about the System that so many people worshiped, or…

Maybe the most interesting thing about him was that he didn't try to use her.

Volcatia was strong.

She was the strongest.

That was just how things were.

When she'd showed people in her travels, they reacted the same way.

The pretty minstrel called her a deity and wanted to write songs to worship her.

Weird.

Volcatia was still a person.

A human.

The noble's son hadn't been worth telling, but his betrothed had asked her to kill the young man and run away with her.

Manipulation wasn't something Volcatia was skilled in, but she recognized it.

Her skills helped when it was too subtle for her.

The old adventurer wanted her help in killing a dragon.

A real, living dragon, he'd claimed.

Volcatia had met the dragon.

It talked too much, but she didn't really feel like killing it.

If she killed creatures because they annoyed her, there might not be anything left.

The elf had been the worst of them.

He'd wanted a kingdom destroyed.

Volcatia wasn't a weapon.

She'd spent three months in the forest relaxing with whatever the pretty elf's name was, and the peacefulness had been interesting.

Then she was suddenly supposed to get angry on the elf's behalf that his family had been captured?

She grimaced at the memory.

Maybe if it had been a few years earlier when she was less tired of everything.

She'd been more driven by passion when she was younger.

A younger her might have stormed in and made a rescue.

She wasn't young anymore.

She was past the time of being moved by her passions.

She hadn't felt like helping.

She'd done that already, and it was no longer interesting.

Was that what a hero would do?

Help the pretty elf, rescue the other elves, kill those that needed killing, then relax in the forest forever?

Boring.

She'd checked on the off-chance that she was wrong.

The doing was easy enough, but then what?

There was no rest.

She'd watched as she was then begged to rescue more elves.

There were always more.

The elves were people who didn't even want to be rescued.

Their minds were damaged or broken, and they wanted nothing but to fuck even when they'd been returned to wherever they needed to go.

The pretty elf was happy at first before growing angry, accusing Volcatia of not helping enough, not doing everything to save their minds.

There was no enough, and Volcatia had stopped watching.

Sylmare was only an acquaintance, and a couple months or so of talking, kissing, and occasional fucking wouldn't change that.

The fact that she'd bothered to think about it at all should have made the elf happy, but…

Tiring.

That's what life was.

It was just tiring.

There were the fun parts and the boring parts, but mostly it was exhausting.

What was even the point of being this strong?

Volcatia decided to stand up.

These thoughts were all too boring.

She was losing again.

She needed to find something fun to do.

Carl was busy, probably, and she wasn't sure she wanted to spend more time with him today after already getting so close.

After already doing a number of things she probably shouldn't have.

Why did she bother helping him?

He probably was strong enough to handle everything she'd helped with in some way.

She pondered it, but her thoughts continued to stray.

It didn't really matter.

Her thoughts turned to something that might matter.

She wanted somewhere to sleep tonight.

She knew that she didn't need to stay here.

There would only be that one idiot…

She'd already forgotten his name.

She used to remember them all, but it seemed useless to try when she knew she would never become acquaintances with someone.

Volcatia had already stopped thinking about him.

She was now thinking about Atilia Liberalis, the young bookmaker from D-four she'd met at the lower track that afternoon.

Being with a woman two days in a row seemed like it might verge on being boring, but Liberalis had pretty legs and a pretty face.

Yeah, she had a lover, and she'd said she was completely devoted to him and wasn't interested in anyone else.

The pretty woman had lied about the last part though.

That was fine.

Maybe Volcatia would find out her lover's name and spend time with him as well to balance things out.

Both of them at the same time might be fun as well.

That might be even less boring.

No matter how it ended, she'd found something vaguely interesting to spend time on.

Volcatia moved, then walked out of the tunnel at the lower track.

Her time had ended.

For now.