Chisel just wanted to curse. What the hell reason is that?
The anchor considered, frowned, and read his prepared words: "Is that necessary? Why don't you just make it up?"
And is the backstory of a CCG game really that important? While Chisel used to care about that, and a lot of gamers do, more people are drawn to CC because it's fun and chaotic, with endless gameplay possibilities.
"That way, there's no soul." The professor retorted, "Not true enough."
"I don't think players are looking for reality in a fantasy world story." Chisel controls his voice from sounding too impatient.
"It's not the players, it's me." The demon pointed to himself. "To tell you the truth, I am the one who put those story materials into concrete words for you players to see. But I don't have the talent to create.Learning about tragedies in different worlds is my greatest pastime. And on top of that, it's fun to take them, to take those raw materials and rework them into stories and card introductions."
"My job is to spread happiness, my friend, and if I can't be happy, the words that pass through my hands can't be happy."
"You are serious," You are crazy.
Chisel felt a surge of anger. But the anger was impotent. The thought of this demon taking a real tragedy and making it into a game to please the player is evil. But even knowing this, knowing that the characters on the cards had lived and that the sad stories had happened, the current Chisel could not muster enough empathy.
Perhaps it was because he had been touched by the stories once before and was somewhat immune to the grief.
But how can one be immune to the suffering of others? Better to just admit that your compassion is sick.
Chisel felt there was room for effort: "You could outsource it to good writers, people who have long been known to write stories that move people more than reality."
"But they won't touch my heart." The professor refused. "Besides, their souls have places to go, and they are hardly in my charge."
"I remember you could do that in The Master and Margaret, couldn't you? Talk to the dead? " Chisel frowns.
"But I didn't go to Moscow that May." The professor smiled broadly. "My friend, that book is Bulgakov's work, and I am not one of his characters. It's just that I read the book and found the character of Professor Woland interesting, so I borrowed the name and appearance. It was just a cosplay."
"Cos...Play?"
"That's right, and recall, did your old friend Behe exactly fit the description of that book?"
Chisel then realized. In that book,in human form, Behemoth the black cat was a thin, jesting teenager, not a strapping black man.
"I see in your face that you do." The professor clicked his fingers. "He liked the image of the black cat. He liked the story. But he had always felt that the skinny teenager's shape didn't fit his idea of himself, so he reinvented it and became a big black man."
"Creation is so much fun, so would you be interested in helping me with my creation?"
"To be honest, I'm not interested, sorry." Chisel flatly refused.
This is a fart creation.
"Don't worry, I haven't explained to you the working conditions and remuneration I have prepared for you." The demon was still laughing, and Chisel thought his smile abhorrent. "I will offer you my blessing, which will guarantee keep you safe, but allows you to survive without eating or sleeping. Of course, you can eat and sleep if you want."
"No guarantee of life? Does that mean I'm in danger?" Chisel laughed too. The demon was genuine.
"Well, the laws against the cross-world use of power by demons have been passed centuries ago, and the places I need you to go are the dangerous ones. If the world falls apart naturally, I can apply for your rescue, but if it's a simple crisis, I must admit that I can't save you." The professor was very honest indeed, "but I can protect myself by providing you with the power to turn your card pack into your power and use it on those worlds."
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
"That sounds very appealing." Chisel shook his head. "But it's still too risky, and I still don't know why I'm doing it."
"And my conscience won't allow me to make entertainment out of the destruction of other worlds."
"Perhaps it can be saved from destruction by your coming." The professor refused to give up. "Just like the story of the Return of the Leave, the world has been saved from destruction by you, the players,the collectors. You will have the power to potentially save the world, think about it, save a world that is going to be destroyed, be a hero, save innocent lives, don't you want to do that?"
"...It's tempting, but I'm not the person who can do it. Why don't you find someone better to do it, instead of me?" Have to say, Chisel was a little intrigued.
"Don't sell yourself too short. You're excellent. You have what I need.And I did invite other people, so you don't have to worry about your journey being too lonely. There are six invitees including you. Two of them have already left." The demon seems to have a winning hand.
"Who are they?" Chisel had to admit he was curious.
"Old acquaintances of yours. They are Nightmare, Apprentice, SaintKing, Poet, and Lady. The King and the Poet have accepted my proposal. The Poet has set out for the world I have prepared for you. SaintKing is making preparations." Woland seemed extremely proud of the fact that he had persuaded them.
The names represent five well-known players, not game nicknames, but titles given to them by other players that represent their style and identity. Among them, Nightmare, Apprentice, and SaintKing are three winners of the Collector's Catalog World Series. This competition is held by the Magic Classroom, the prize money is rich, has been held for three times. "Poet" and "Lady" are remembered by the audience for their unique personal style.
Chisel did know them. The Poet and Lady were his friends and they worked together. He also competed in those three competitions and was defeated by Nightmare, Poet and SaintKing in turn. He was lucky enough to win Lady once, and was beaten by that woman outside of the competition. As for the Apprentice, Chisel hadn't met her in a contest yet, but he didn't think he could beat her. In any case, he knew the players more or less.
The SaintKing was a difficult creature to understand, and nothing she did seemed strange to Chisel. And the poet, who was a romantic, dreamy, artistic man, might actually be persuaded by what Woland had just said.
He tried to speak again, but the professor interrupted him: "I know that you may not be satisfied with what I have just said about working conditions and colleagues.But I'm sure I'm making you an offer you can't refuse."
"You may say so." Chisel was no longer panicking, no longer nervous, no longer shaking, no longer angry.He felt that he had accepted it all as a normal and failing collaboration.
What can you offer me in return?
"The reward I am prepared for is the fulfilment of one of your wishes, which must, of course, be within my power."
Chisel raised an eyebrow. "If your partner is told after he finishes his work that you can't grant his wish, he can't find a place to defend his rights."
The professor took no notice of Chisel's distrust in his question: "So I'll pay them upfront and give them half of what they want first."
"But how can a wish be split in two, fulfilled and only half fulfilled?" Chisel couldn't understand and spoke out.
"It depends on what the wish is." The professor thought for a moment and gave an example. "Like, I mean like."
"The wish of one of my partners is to resurrect his parents who died trying to save him to live a happy and safe life."
"I will revive his parents, give them money and happiness for various reasons, and secretly protect them so that their happy life can continue for a long time."
"If my partner defaults, I will stop protecting his parents and will not continue to grant them extra good fortune."
"But rest assured and ask my father to guarantee for me that I will not retaliate against the elderly couple. As long as they don't make mistakes, they can still live the rest of their lives in relative prosperity."
"Of course, the death of a partner, failure does not affect the performance of my commitment, I will not pursue it. As long as he does not voluntarily give up his job or report me, my protection for his parents will remain in effect."
"My promise will continue to protect the couple who gave their lives to protect their son, to protect them from pain, to protect them to the grave, to the end of all things and to 'tomorrow'."
"Well, are you attracted?" The professor finished, beckoning Chisel, who had already turned pale, to reply.
But Chisel could not speak. In fact, his mind had completely lost control of his body. What the demon had just said was more terrible than anything that had ever happened before.
He was forced by those words to remember the rainy night five years ago. His newly kindled courage was more fragile than a piece of paper in the face of the guilt that had tormented him for more than fifteen hundred days.
He saw his failure and realized that he had never been able to win. The demon is just so terrible, and man is just so fragile.
Chisel's heart stopped for a second when Woland said the word "resurrect," and then gave in completely to the demon.He was utterly defeated, unable to struggle, and had no choice but to surrender.
There was a long silence. Then Chisel said weakly, "They won't be happy if I'm gone."
"Don't worry about that. I can create a substitute for you. He will satisfy your parents' emotional needs and desires, protect them, fulfill his duties as a son, and be their pride."
Chisel's consciousness is brought back to the day of his mother's death.At that time, his father's heart had stopped beating and his mother was dying.
He remembered her last smile, her weakness, her words as light as feathers.
...
"I know, Jeremy, you've always had low self-esteem."
"You feel guilty about not being good enough.But it shouldn't be."
"Don't sell yourself short. You're great. You're unique.
'I don't have the strength to comfort you anymore. I just want you to remember one thing, my dear.
"You are our pride."
...
At some point, Chisel felt like he couldn't breathe, felt like he was dying, and then realized he had tears running down his cheeks.
He covered his eyes, gasped, struggled, but could never win back the dominance of his body.
After a few minutes of silence, he spoke in as smooth a tone as he could to the ever-smiling and quiet
"I agree."
"I agree to the deal you said. As long as you can finish what you said and resurrect my parents and give them happiness."
"Then take my soul."
"Demon. You are victorious."