Doc’y Talky: Another chapter! Yeah! I’m on fire!

Err… poor choice of words.

So, will Erlic die painfully today and be reduced to a pile of ashes? Is this the end of our hero? You will know this, and more… Well, by reading this chapter. Which you’re already doing. Okay. Let’s stop wasting your time;

On point, here is Red’s Let It Burn.

Spoiler :

Also, this quote isn’t only from Lord of the Rings, you know?

Spoiler :

Glinda is no Gandalf, but she’s still pretty badass… in her own way.

Please enjoy, comment and review, if you feel so inclined. All opinions are welcome.

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Chapter 4: Beyond the Mist

~ Part 2: You Have No Power Here ~

*BRRRAAAAAAARRRRRRM!!!!*

A giant white fireball violently crashes onto me, who is standing immobile like a lightning rod awaiting the strike. The bleached inferno engulfs and blinds me, avid to devour its designated prey. From outside, the scene should appear hellishly divine. Undoubtedly any witness would believe that nothing could possibly survive this enchanted blaze’s mindless voracity.

Inside the immaculate conflagration however, one man – that’s me – can’t help but chuckle derisively.

“Pffffhuhuhu.”

That’s cute.

[Purity Blaze] may certainly look impressive, and I won’t deny the spell holds his own as an Area of Effect attack, however it is still “merely” first tier holy magic. Even leaving aside the doubtful pertinence of assaulting a paladin – be it a freelance one – with divine fire, [Purity Blaze] is only somewhat efficient against inanimate objects and living beings “tainted” by Darkness.

Which I’m not.

I wouldn’t call myself exactly “pure”. That’d be a lie. But last time I checked, healthy perversion and kinks didn’t quite make me a dastardly spawn of Satan, or whatever the Pandorian equivalent for the Christian Devil might be.

…Isn’t it Chaos?

…

……

………

Oh, well, never mind…

But really, chaos and darkness aren’t the same thing. That’s just an erroneous amalgam.

In any case, the holy flare is mildly annoying at most, and only because its brightness hurts my eyes, which I quickly shut, removing that issue. The fire soon dies out, finding little evil to feed of I suppose, which leaves me standing in the middle of charred circle, completely unscathed.

Mwahahahaha! You can’t hurt me, puny holy mages! Feeeeeear Meeee!!

*mental cough*

Ah. Err… Anyway… where was I? Ah. Right.

I try to call out once mire: “Err… Excuse m–”

*weeeeeeeezzzsshhrrrraaaarrrrrBRRRAM*

Oh bloody goodness.

I feel an old migraine resurge as I am interrupted, again, by the deafening whistle of a second cluster of cleansing flames diving towards me.

What is wrong with the world? Is this the “not letting Elric finish a sentence” week?! I don’t remember giving my accord for such a holyday to exist!

The burning spell is closely followed by a third…

“Excu–”

*SHHHUBRAAAA*

…then a fourth…

“I’d like to–”

*BREFRRRRRERR*

…and a fifth…

“WILL YOU JUST–”

*KRAKRAKRAKRA*

…

Hey, Voice.

Yes?

It might be my imagination, but I don’t think those villagers are eager to hear me out.

Must be your imagination.

...A sixth.

**

I sigh and sit down cross-legged on the scorched ground. I’d like to avoid conflict if possible, but the roaring flames greatly limit the possibility if dialogue. So, whoever might be this wand-happy idiot so dedicated to exorcising my soul off, I resign myself to wait for him, or her, to empty their mana pool.

*BRRRAAAAAAARRRRRRM!!!!*

This might take a while...

I take a long fork out of my inventory, stab an apple on its twin pikes, and hold it out into the raging fire that has engulfed me.

* * *

For nearly twenty minutes, and four roasted apples, I continue to endure the – totally ineffective and pointless – onslaught.

I could have easily shielded myself, blasted the wooden doors away, and rendered my assailants powerless. A single spell would have sufficed. [Sun Guardian] for example, which is basically a huge Gun*am made of sunlight. Or maybe it’s closer to an oversized solar-power-suit? What is the difference? Size? Could an Iron Man Suit be considered a small mecha? Probably…

Well, anyway, it’s impressive and badass, exactly how I love my spells.

With onions.

Sad– However, my primary goal here is still peaceful interaction, not all-out war and probable one-sided slaughter.

How boring.

Besides these apples taste good, if a little burnt and dry. So it’s not all bad.

The villagers aren’t entirely at fault either. On hindsight, perhaps approaching a woman while covered in patches of dried blood and various innards stains was not the best way to get a favourable response. Yeah, probably not.

In the middle of the blazing inferno, I open an eye and contemplate a blackened apple in ponder.

To eat or not to eat?

Well. You know what they say about burnt food.

Nope.

Yeah. Me neither.

I bite into the fruit. It’s crispy.

My mind wanders back to the brea– to the female villager I met earlier.

Considering my gory appearance at the time, it’s actually amazing she ran away “quietly” and not screaming in horror at the top of her lungs. I’m thankful for that by the way. Women who screech stupidly when frightened are painful to the ears. In fact, dealing with them in general is painful, figuratively speaking.

I wouldn’t be surprised if she mistook me for some kind of [Death Knight] or [Vengeful Erring Armour]. Which would also explain why these people insist on showering me with holy magic. Though I did remove my helmet on my way to the gates, but I guess they were too scared to properly check.

So, in the end, I don’t hold this act of aggression against them. I already said it several times, but I don’t do grudges. I’m a very positive person. Besides, if I were to get angry at every little attempt at my life, I’d never smile again.

Moreover, their barrage is, in fact, having an effect of sorts, apfelstrudel notwithstanding. The holy flames have burnt all the nastiness off my gear! My armour is now spotless. How convenient.

“♪ Tired of dirty equipment after a merry day of slaughtering the mindless hordes of the undead? Well, lament no more! ‘Holy Magic’ is there for you. ‘Holy magic’, because He doesn’t only wash away you~r sins. *wink* ♪”

Call now and receive a singing effigy of our Lord and Saviour.

Seventyseventgoldthehomingphoenixseeconditionsatyourlocaltemple.

Eventually, the interval in-between successive bombings starts to lengthen, until the assault eventually stops altogether. I guess the spellcaster – spellcasters? – finally ran out of fuel.

Now glittering fabulously, like a certain pseudo-vampire I won’t name, I open my eyes and raise an inquiring eyebrow as I inspect my surroundings. A few flames are still flickering close by, but no more seemed to come down from the sky.

I wonder. Should I complain to the weatherman? I don’t remember “rain of fire” being part of yesterday’s forecast.

“Is it still there?”

Mmmh? And who might this be?

A muffled voice echoes from where the fireballs came, i.e. the other side of the tall wooden fence. I look up and catch a glimpse of a villager peeking over, five metres above ground, before quickly ducking back down.

Levitation?

No, probably just an observation platform.

“It is. It didn’t even looked hurt.” – Not the same voice.

So there are at least two people in there. Three if I count Apples Woman. Probably a few more going by the size of the hamlet. I’d say between ten and twenty villagers?

Villager 1: “What?!”

A second head briefly rises up.

Villager 3: “It’s true!”

Aaaand four confirmed autochthons! This one sounds younger. Adolescent?

Villager 2: “Told you so.”

Villager 3: “Wa-Wa-What are we going to do? WAAAAH! Why did the s-s-spell fai-failed?”

Hoy. Ca-Ca-Calm down kid. I don’t bite…

Unless provoked.

Villager 1: “Think! How could something strong enough to pass through the [Misty Soul Barrier] be affected by a measly [Purity Blast]?”

Oh. This one seems vaguely smarter. He is still a bit off the mark though, but that does confirm my hypothesis on Canary’s Foggy Fart. A barrier. How annoying. Wait… If they knew it wouldn’t work, why did they even bother?

And it’s [Purity Blaze], not “Blast”. Get it right, it’s embarrassing!

Should I say something? They sound really frightened…

Naaah. Let them talk. They’re funny.

Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

Villager 1: “How did it look?”

Villager 3: “A giant! At least TEN FEET TALL!! Covered in armour! It looked invincible!”

F-F-Flattery won’t g-get you a-a-anywhere. ~Baka!~

Villager 1: “A [Dullahan]?”

Villager 3: “No. I saw a head.”

If you saw it, can’t you tell I’m freakin’ ALIVE?! Thou mammering lout!

Villager 1: “An [Erring Armour]?”

Villager 3: “No helmet.”

Villager 1: “[Armoured Skelton]?”

Villager 3: “Didn’t seem that bony. Though I did look like a skull.”

LOOK BETTTER!! I’m not a skeleton! I’m just… just… bald.

Why…

Villager 1, slightly losing patience: “What was it then?!”

Villager 3: “Dunno.”

Villager 1: “AAAAARGH! Get down here, you dimwit. I’m going up!”

Villager 2: “Keep calm Melk. You know how Dennis is.”

Mister Twooo!? You’re still there? Please take a look. Save me from these morons.

Melk: “gnmbraindamagengrrrnidiotgemeniud…”

Dennis: “Fueeeeh… That was mean, Bro.”

Bro(?): “Shut up, Dennis. What it is doesn’t matter. It can’t get through the magic fence anyway.”

Magic uh? Good thing I didn’t try to smash it. If it’s stronger than the Candy Floss of Lostness, that wouldn’t have ended up well…

Bro: “But we can’t let it wander around indefinitely. Melk, you go back to your wife. Dennis, you stay here on watch. I’m counting on you. Don’t move! Don’t leave your post!! Don’t piss yourself… I’ll go wake up the Elder.”

Sorry, I misjudged you, Bro. You’re smarter than Melk– Mmh? Did he say “wake up the Elder”?

…

……

………

WHAT!? Did you decide to NUKE me while the guy in charge was taking a nap?! CURSE YOU, BRO!!!

After Nuke-First-Ask-Questions-Later “Bro” left, silence returns, broken only by the faint clattering of teeth and what sounds like an uninterrupted murmured prayer. Standing in front of the gates, I wait for some time, but Dimwit Incontinent Dennis doesn’t dare to take another look.

…Now what? Do I call out? I wonder... it might backfire. No pun intended. They think I’m undead, and as far as I know, liches are the only undead that talk... as long as they come in human shape… although Grandiose McNutty did seem to attempt communication.

Tsk. That rodent probably said something like “I’m freakin’ awesome!” or “Fear my mighty self and beg for thy life, thou mortal fool!”

Liches are all so full of themselves. The whole “transcending death” thing and all…

Anyway. What to do…? What to do?

I don’t want little Dennis to freak out on me. He really doesn’t strike me as Mister Courageous, nor Mister Brain for that matter…

Ahhh. Let’s just wait for the Elder. The sun feels good out here. Perfect for a nap. Let’s hope the old fellow will at least talk to me before trying to blast me into oblivion. If he is the one who made this fence and the [Misty Soul Barrier], and he’s hostile, things might become “slightly” problematic.

Slightly…

Slightly.

Thus my posterior was once more relocated on the ground. I lean back against the wooden door, pretending to sleep – maybe looking inoffensive and bored would help – and waited, enjoying the soothing warmth.

* * *

“Dehhhhhhhnnis! Hiiii~ What’s up?”

…hm?

I must have dozed off at some point, because I’m awoken by a loud high-pitched female voice, calling out to the cowardly guard. Being still a bit groggy, my first thought is: That’s the Elder?

The voice sounds more like it belongs to a little girl than a venerable matriarch. Not that it means much. If travelling around – and anime – have taught me anything, it is “never trust someone’s appearance in a world where magic is possible”, Rule 34.

Also known as the Loli Baba Principle.

Listening carefully to confirm the identity of the – supposedly – young newcomer, I am immediately reassured by the frightened idiot’s answer.

“Dorothy? What are you doing here?! Go back home. It’s dangerous. There’s an undead monster outside.”

Ah. Of course. Obviously there is a Dorothy. In Kansas, what did I expect? Whatever Inc. really is thorough, even in nonsense apparently. Although… I’m no expert of L. Frank Baum’s work, but shouldn’t Dorothy be a teenager? This one sounds no more than eight years old…

“Shut up! Don’t be a wuss Dennis. Move! Let me see!”

…an easily angered, foul-mouthed, eight-years-old.

I like her already.

“Fueeeeh?! Dorothy… You can’t– Aaaah! OW!!”

I hear the sound of a fall, followed by an exclamation of pain. Did she push him down? Err… That platform is at least sixteen feet above ground. That’s a bit…

“Dorothy! Please, be careful! If something happens to you, Martha will kill me.”

Ah. No, never mind, Dumbnis survived the fall.

Idiots are very durable after all.

Still, his voice sounds so pitiful…

“Nothing will happen if you keep your mouth shut! Or do you want me to tell Meg about that time?”

Blackmail now?

Can we adopt her?

“Aaaaah… Do what you want. But be quick. And please don’t tell Meg…” He seems about to cry.

“Teehee~ I’ll keep quiet if you do~” Now she sounds more impish than mad.

“Please…”

Dennis… you indeed are a wuss. Yielding to the blackmail of a little girl! Don’t you have any pride as a man?

Well, this little girl does seem dreadful. Better make sure she never gets any dirt on me. Kids sure are scary these days. Ah! …Isn’t this supposed to be a medieval setting? Guess that means kids are evil whatever time period they’re in. How scary…

“HEH-HOOO! Mister Undead? Are you asleep?! Are you dead?”

Right as my thoughts are starting to spiral down into a nightmarishly entertaining direction, I’m snapped out of my sinking delirium by the loud call of the apparently fearless Dorothy, brimming with childish enthusiasm.

A dead undead is an oxymoron though… I think.

“Mister Undead” raises his eyes, and grins at the sight of a twin-tailed girl barely managing to glance over the edge of the fence. I can easily picture her standing on the tip of her toes on the wooden platform, grabbing the spikes that topped the wall, extending her body, and conjuring all her strength just to hold herself up and give me that innocent questioning stare.

“Dorothyyyy!!!” comes the plaintive cry of the moron. “Don’t attract its attention!”

Shut up, Dennis.

“Shut up, Dennis!” a cute voice echoed my thoughts.

Good job, Dorothy.

But a young lady shouldn’t say things like “shut up”.

Shut up.

Hey!

“HOY! Mister Undead? What are you doing there? Can you talk?”

Ah. That’s my cue.

Let’s answer her cheerfully.

“I can talk alright! And I’m no undead. I’m very much alive. My name’s Elric. Elric Walker. Twenty-two. Knight of the Sun. Presently single. As what I’m doing here? Not sure… Waiting for the Elder I suppose. The wussy guy’s brother said he was going to bring him back.”

I’m pretty sure I heard some protest from an insignificant roach about my choice of words, but I don’t pay much attention to it. I’m more interested by Dorothy’s musical giggles. She seems to find funny that I, the strong-looking Elric, called Dennis “the wussy guy”.

Her giggles really are cute.

…even if the reason behind it was a bit worrisome.

Then Dorothy asks: “Marcus?”

I try to recall my previous sentence. I guess Marcus is Dennis’ Bro’s name?

“Probably?”

How am I supposed to know?

“Then he should be back soon. Marcus is the fastest in the whooole village.”

“That’s good to know.”

Not that there should be more than twenty inhabitants in your “village”, sweetie. But I don’t say it out loud. A child’s innocence is something to cherish and protect. Those who seek to sully such purity are the dirtiest filth of this world.

All lolicons should die.

And that’s why we’ll continue to kill them.

“Fufufufu…”

While I’m chuckling softly with a dark aura, Dennis peeks over Dorothy’s head. He managed to get back up apparently. I want to throw something at his face.

Don’t spoil the angelic sight, you ugly cur!

“You’re not a monster?”

Yeaaah… That one definitely didn’t win the jackpot at the brain lottery.

I look down at myself with a face twisted in exaggerate puzzlement, earning another giggle from Dorothy. Music to my ears. Then I suddenly glare back up at the young guard, who lets out a scared yelp. The little girl shoots him a disdainful glance and I can’t help but feel like I have won something.

…I’ll try not to dwell on it.

“Not that I know of,” I reply sarcastically, referring to his question about my supposed monstrous nature.

“Then why didn’t you say so earlier?” the dimwit has the galls to reproach.

“You threw fire at me.”

“…”

“…”

“S’ry ‘bout that,” he mumbles sheepishly.

“…Yeah.”

“The Elder should be here soon.”

“………Yeah.”

“Please make yourself comfortable while waiting.”

“………………Yeah.”

“…ahah… Well… I’d better give Bro some updates. He’s not going to be happy… I’ll be going then. Don’t do something suspicious while I’m gone!”

“…………Yeah. You do that.”

“I’m leaving then. You too Dorothy. I don’t want you to be here when Bro comes back.”

“But–”

“And you don’t want that either.”

“Tsk… ’kay.” That syllable sounds really annoyed.

You’re quite something Bro– No, Marcus. Getting the respect of this fierce little twin-tailed creature. I might even forgive you for the nukes. Maybe.

“Bye bye, Mister Not-Undead Single Elric Walker!” Dorothy waves energetically at me before disappearing behind the fence.

Aaaaaaaw~ Cuteness overload!

…

The “single” really wasn’t necessary though…

Left alone and smiling wryly, I raise my gaze to the sky, pondering once again about the wasteland that had become my love-life.

* * * * *