…or the Beginning of When it is Still Before the Story and Stuff is Introduced Because There Must be a Prologue.
~ Part 3: I am Legend ~
A kitchen is a laboratory.
The cook… a scientist.
Every dish? An experiment.
Ingredients mix together, in specific quantities, following a certain order, under precise conditions, any minute slip up capable of bringing the fragile equilibrium crashing down like a house of cards. All to bring forth the power hidden in each element and… create. Create something new and greater than the sum of its parts. Create what so many others failed at, simply because you found what they all were missing.
Create… magic.
The sole distinction between cooking and science is that you can’t eat most of what scientists make.
Well… No. Not exactly.
You can eat everything they make.
But only once...
A bit like lava.
You can eat it.
Once.
But not like cookies.
You can always eat more cookies.
"Want a cookie?”
“No, thanks, Nick. I can’t eat another one right no— Why are you glaring at me like this?”
As soon as Daniel came back from doing my shopping, I threw him my spare lab coat, and we got started with dinner, all the while enjoying a box of cookies.
By the way: Kids, don’t try this at home. Eating sweets before meals will only ruin your appetite and make you grow fat. And when you become fat... you die.
I’m not quite sure that’s how it wor—
You DIE.
Alright, alright… Geesh.
We've also set aside a second box for the visiting bear once she comes out of the bathroom. It is but a small offering to ensure the benevolence of the gods and an evening without bloodshed. It’s an… ancestral tradition from… err… Belgium.
A very local tradition from Belgium.
Belgians are weird.
“Nick, where do you put your peelers again?” Dan asks while holding a carrot.
“Bottom drawer to your left,” I answer without looking as I throw some cooking fat into a Dutch oven—you know, that saucepan that kinda looks like a witch’s cauldron? It’s actually called a “Dutch” oven only because the model was popularized in 1891 by a Dutch cookware manufacturer. Pretty dumb reason if you ask me, especially given Dutch people actually call it “braadpan”, which literally means… You know it... saucepan.
JUST CALL IT SAUCEPAN!!!
It’s confusing! It’s not an oven. And it’s not even that Dutch!
Does it mean that, though?
How would I know? I don't speak Dutch.
Why am I even bothered by this?
“Err... Nick?”
“Yes, my always-surprisingly-well-timed-interrupting friend?”
Dan gives me a weird look but quickly shakes his head. He holds up a flat metal stick attached to a short blade. “That’s a scalpel, not a peeler."
“Yeah. I see that?”
“Why do you have scalpels in your kitchen?”
“Well, what are scalpels for? Alalala. My dear black-skinned comrade...” My smile broadens, revealing my teeth and narrowing my eyes. “Where from did you think I got all that meat your sister eats? Did you believe I had this huge freezer just to store some ice-cream? Admittedly, I do own a lot of ice-cream, but… you know…” I shrug sheepishly.
“…You’re joking right?”
“OF COURSE I’M JOKING!!” I throw my arms up—but only after checking I wasn’t holding anything sharp this time. I shoot Dan a penetrating glare. “Do I look like the type of guy who’d butcher other people to you?”
"...well...”
“Daaaaaan?”
He chuckles awkwardly, rubbing his shoulder and not meeting my gaze. “Sometimes it's a little difficult to tell whether you’re joking or not. You’ve got a weird sense of humour… And you’ve got that glint in your eyes sometimes… I also remember your mother used to say—”
“Dan.”
“...Yes?”
“Stop talking.”
“Ah. Err… okay.” Dan squirms uncomfortably and I just stare at him, mulling over what just transpired. So, my best friend honestly thought I could be a serial killer. Or at least, he subconsciously considered it possible.
An… interesting discovery.
The guy’s pretty sharp I’d say.
Nobody asked you to comment.
Well… Today has been a very odd day anyway.
Is this about how you realised you’re possibly into guys? Or is it the bit where your other best friend, who’s FEMALE, said she wanted to impregnate you?
…She didn’t mean it quite like that.
Are you sure?
Stop putting weird thoughts into my head.
I’m not putting anything anywhere. I’m you. You already think those things.
…
And it turns you on—
Right! I have to set the oven. I turn my back to Dan and walk to the appliance. “Goes better with the deco,” I mumble as I rotate the dial to 250°F.
“Yes?”
“The scalpels,” I clarify. “I use them as peelers. It goes better with the deco. And the vegetables don’t care.” I give a circular wave to designate the kitchen around us.
Not being a fan of the current minimalist trend in home interior design, with its light monochrome colours, smooth surfaces and round edges, its boring blandness, I have redecorated the whole apartment to my own tastes—with the landlord's blessing, obviously. In the spirit of my earlier comparison between cooking and science, the kitchen was remade into an imitation of a medical lab. The walls are painted white. Posters of Mendeleev’s table and anatomical charts adorn them. I store my spices in test tubes on a shelf. The table resembles one which you’d find in an autopsy room. Also, the rice-cooker is disguised as a centrifuge… Amongst other things.
Anyway…
I grab a pair of thin glass containers, one labelled NaCl and the other C17H19NO3, which is, in fact, the formula for piperine, an alkaloid found in black pepper. It was the closest molecular formula I found to the pepper plant. With salt and pepper, I season the cubed beef before putting the spices back on the test tube rack. The clinking of glass against glass and wood echoes loudly in the otherwise quiet kitchen.
Dan’s voice eventually breaks the heavy silence. “I’m sorry Nick. It’s… pretty obvious now that you point it out. I feel really stupid right now.”
“Yeah. I bet you do,” I drop. I leave him to marinate in his guilt for another couple of minutes while I work on diverse preparations. Eventually, I can't repress my laughter anymore. "Pfffft—" What can I say, I can't hold onto negative feelings for long. It’s just not in my nature. I’m a positive person. “So?” I call out and glance briefly at him over my shoulder before turning back to the meat. “Whatcha doin’ standin’ there like a dim-wit scarecrow? Those here tubers ain’t gonna peel themselves, kiddo.”
"...Tubers?"
"Potatoes."
Even without looking, I can picture in my mind Dan’s shoulders sagging in relief. He moves next to me and I hand him a potato. Starting to peel it, he glares at me playfully. “Who are you calling ‘kiddo’ anyway? You’re barely two months older than me!”
I chuckle again. “Yep. And them be fifty-seven darn days ye’ll nevar catch up with… Now, kiddo, less talkin’ and mo’ peelin’. I wanna eat this day. Nat in twelve bloody eons.”
We both break into laughter and the earlier tension is all but forgotten.
...
This is nice.
I guess... this may be also what friendship is all about. Forgiveness. Even when someone who’s like a brother to you once suspected you of murder…
…
……
………
I call bullshit.
I… may agree with you on that one.
That doesn't change the fact I am incapable of holding onto grudges. I’m a very happy person. A bit like that one guy in those comics. You know? The ones with that rich guy who has a butler and fights crime at night dressed as a bat… What was the name of that other happy guy in the comics?
The Joker.
Oh, right.
Yeah.
Happy fellow.
Lost in thoughts, I slowly brown the meat cubes—more like vague parallelepipeds if you ask me—on each side for one or two minutes. Then I set them aside and switch to cooking the garlic and onions. Two minutes, the recipe says “or until fragrant”. But my sense of smell is worse than Krillin’s, so I stick to timings. I add the beef stock and stir for a while, lulling myself to the sounds of Dan’s very inventive repertoire of curses, most of which seem to gravitate around scalpels, and their unpracticality as carrot peelers.
Music to my ears.
Eventually, I return the beef to that stupidly-named Dutch oven, cover it and place the whole thing in the preheated, well, oven. Works like matryoshka dolls.
No, it really doesn't.
Three hours under 250°F, the recipe says. That’s annoyingly long, but staring through the window of the appliance won’t make it cook any faster. I join Dan at the autopsy table and take out my own scalpel to work on the mushrooms. We won’t roast the vegetables until the last fifteen minutes of the beef cooking process, however, so once the carrots are peeled and cut and the shrooms sliced, we find ourselves with some time to kill.
“Now what?” Dan asks as we clear the table off any cooking waste.
“Now we wait.”
“Sounds boring.”
“It is.” I hate waiting, but I do love a good nap, and I have a good imagination. So, all in all, I’m rarely bored.
“Anything interesting on NHGame?”
“Dunno. I can check.” I waltz to my laptop that's been sitting on a shelf and blaring Dvorak’s New World Symphony for a while now, prompting some very ad lib dance moves from me, some mushrooms on the floor, and some skilful dodging from Daniel. I bring the computer back to the table, now clean, and cut off the music. I switch to one of the numerous tabs permanently open in my internet browser, revealing the homepage of NHGame Online Broadcast, one of the many gaming news programmes in existence but undoubtedly one of the most popular.
Daniel drops onto the chair next to mine, a pair of H2O PET bottles in hand. He hands me one. “So, anything?”
“Mmmh…” I grunt noncommittally and take a sip of water. “Something called ‘Herbs, Rocks and Potions’. It’s about alchemy I think.”
“Sounds like a newbie program.”
“It is.” I glance at the screen. A slow-moving video is showing a very picturesque landscape. Clouds are floating in the blue sunny sky, trees are swaying under the gentle wind, leaves are shimmering, and birds are chirping through the speakers. Sometimes the latter even cover the voiceover explaining the properties of the plants found in the area. It's hard to believe this forest is computer-generated. If I didn’t know better, it would fool me too. The graphics of this game really are something else.
Well, the fire-breathing pterodactyl-like that just flew across the image might also give something away… But you never know.
Untold Tales. This was the name of the game whose footage we're currently watching.
Untold Tales, a game that revolutionized the VR gaming industry.
Untold Tales, a game by the aptly named Whatever Incorporated Company. Why aptly? Because those guys do whatever they want and don’t seem to care about others’ opinion. Back when the game first came out, I watched a few interviews with the CEO and others board members. Those guys are crazy. They don’t appear like it at first glance, but my seventh sense tells me so, and I’m rarely mistaken.
Some have a gaydar, I have a weirdar.
Takes one to know one?
Shut up. I’m perfectly sane.
Of course, you are. And we aren’t having this conversation.
Untold Tales. While not the first Virtual Reality Massively Multiplayer Online Role-Playing Game—Jesus that’s long. VRMMORPG? Barely better. Who uses acronyms this long anyway?!
LGBTQQIAAP?
…People are full of imagination, aren’t they?
Especially when it comes to sexuality.
IMG then? As in Immersive Multiplayer Game. That should–
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
International Management Group.
That's a thing?
It is.
I want to kill you sometimes.
Suicide is never the solution.
Eh, whatever... What was I saying? Oh, right. Untold Tales—UT for short—may not be the first VRMMORPG but it's undoubtedly the best so far, and by far. With graphics and a gameplay way ahead of its time, UT left all its competitors in the metaphorical dust. Said dust then became real as those other games were relegated to lonely shelves, never to be touched again, slowly gathering the aforementioned powdered substance.
This is the story of how Whatever Inc. singlehandedly caused the bankruptcy of countless gaming companies and condemned innumerable people to unemployment!
Capitalism, hurray~
Well, to be fair, I think many found new jobs soon after, either working for Whatever itself or for the plethora of small companies who took advantage of the fall of those other corporate giants to grow themselves by leeching off the new Super Power. Mufasa would call it the Circle of Life… except nobody became grass in the process... or got eaten by antelopes. Probably. I'm digressing.
One of such small companies was NHGame. What used to be an insignificant Australian online gaming channel hit the jackpot by betting everything on Whatever early on, and is now one of the most prominent broadcast companies worldwide, while still being solely focused on games.
For our utmost pleasure~
“So, besides ‘Herbs, Stones and Potions’…” Dan sighs, bored.
“It’s ‘Herbs, Rocks and Potions,” I correct him with a smirk.
“Yeah, that.” He rolls his eyes. “Is there anything else?”
“Let me… see…” I scan through the programs listed on the page. NHGame is a big company now, so they have several channels broadcasting on their website simultaneously.
Before I can read much, however, the kitchen faces a sudden—and loud—plantigrade invasion.
“NIIIIICK!! I’M HUNGRY!! Where’s the food?!”
““......””
Dan and I exchange a glance.
“…It’s your sister. Please deal with her," I demand.
“It’s your ex-girlfriend. This is out of my hands.”
“Aren’t you supposed to be a Good Samaritan?”
“I’ll bring flowers to your funeral.”
“Not if I kill you first.”
“…You’re joking this time, right?”
“......yes. I am.”
"Oh. Good."
"Don't make me change my mind."
"...sorry."
"Apology accepted."
Even while throwing back and forth the bear-handling duty, we both look away from the screen to witness the entrance of the female bear-barian.
And, pardon my vocabulary, but... wow.
Curly chin-length black hair still wet, chocolate skin covered in a faint sheen of dampness, barefooted, and wearing nothing but a grey tank top and Prussian blue running shorts… in my humble childhood-friend/ex-boyfriend/punching-bag's opinion, Yasmin Jakande is the single most gorgeous—real—woman I have ever seen.
Did I mention I’m biased? I still don’t care.
No sooner has she stepped into the room, that she seemingly teleports next to the oven and peeks inside, nostrils flaring and hints of drool peeking at the corner of her lips. “Oooooh! Smells good? What’s that?”
“Meat,” I deadpan. That appears to satisfy her.
Neanderthal woman.
I choose to think of it as a show of her trust in my cooking skills.
“So what are you boys up to?” she throws offhandedly as she opens the fridge. By bending down to reach the bottom shelves, she displays her finely toned tights, the fabric of her shorts draws tight on her firm rear, and her rather loose top dangles down, revealing hints of the only modest part of her person.
I lean in Dan’s direction and whisper, “You know, if your sister wasn’t your sister, I’d be a little worried to let her out alone.”
“Yeah,” he replies in the same tone. “She lacks self-awareness. I worry sometimes.”
“That she might 'self-defence' some poor molester to death?”
“…that too.” His face turns sombre.
Oblivious to our muttered exchange, the subject of our concerns proceeds then to shatter her image of feminine perfection by very loudly snorting while scratching her butt. She straightens up with a beer in hand, uncaps it and downs the content in a single fluid motion denoting years of practice and a very profound understanding of the way of the bottle. She concludes the performance with a throaty belch, a satisfied sigh, and a masterful backhanded mouth-wipe.
The jury is in awe of this display of skill… Clap Clap Clap.
Next to me, Dan facepalms very, very slowly and quietly. You can feel the painful weight of that gesture. This is the facepalm of a broken man. Yas… Yas… Yas… I shake my head. My beloved muscle-brained Amazon sister. While I am happy you feel comfortable in my home, the gap between your appearance and your personality when you relax is just… just… I don't have words.
Sad?
Doesn't even begin to cover the feeling.
The Jakande family owns a fitness centre downtown, and my heart hurts every time I visit and see all the younger female members, their innocent gazes full of worship resting upon my childhood friend, their model. I cast a dull glance at the young woman who was already reaching for her second bottle of hoppy brew in all of her immodest butt-scratching glory.
This is your idol, girls.
“Are you even a girl?” As soon as the murmured sentence has left my lips, my only desire in life becomes to go back in time and choke the ‘me’ from two seconds ago before I can shove my foot so deep into my mouth I’m probably stepping on my bladder right now.
At least it would explain my sudden urge to wet myself.
The temperature of the room abruptly drops to abysses penguins would be scared of. A black aura fills my kitchen and I stand frozen, while the Grimm Reaper emerges from behind the fridge door.
…Not something I thought I would ever say. I should stop buying kitchen implement online from that Dana woman.
“Siegel.” The name echoes like a death sentence. You can tell you messed up big time when the girl you’ve known since forever and who’s closer to you than a sister calls you by your surname. “Dojo. Saturday. Five o’clock.”
The Jakandes’ fitness centre also included a small dojo that teaches judo, a martial sport whose rules and limitations Yasmin always had a very… personal interpretation of. I have a great many painful memories on the tatami mats of that dojo, but at least I always survived.
My chances don’t look so good this time around. Of course, she needn’t precise she meant five o’clock antemeridian. I have an appointment with Death at five in the morning.
Death is a morning person.
I nod fearfully at Death Zuul and, seemingly satisfied, the Incarnation of Doom retreats back inside the athletic young woman, who then retreats inside my fridge in her quest for more alcohol, allowing me to breathe once again. “Dan,” I whisper. “I leave you my collection of anime goodies.”
“I’d rather you join my guild posthumously. We could use the prestige,” he whispers back, not sounding very concerned.
“Traitor.”
“She’s my sister.”
“Oh! Now she’s your sister? …It’s because I’m white isn’t it?”
“Precisely.”
“Racist.”
On that note, I feel a sudden shift in gravity and the whole room appears to tilt. Earthquake?
“Ow!”
That slightly hurt. This is the second time today I end up on the kitchen floor… Hmmm. This could become a habit? Those tiles are oddly comfortable. It's true. And I can’t deny I feel a small measure of contentment laying at Yasmin’s fee—Whoa! Dangerous train of thoughts. I almost became a pervert.
Tsk. So close.
…Self-conspiracy?
“So what are you guys doing?” A husky voice reaches my ears from above. I glare up at my conspicuous assailant who has now usurped my seat in front of the laptop.
“Just checking NHGame,” replies the second black traitor, without batting an eye at my fall from grace.
This is scandalous! I won’t accept this! The white minority in this room will not let himself be oppressed!
…
……
………
…or maybe a little …if she asks nicely.
“Anything interesting?” the female seat-robber asks.
“Not really. Something about magical plants and stones.” Rocks, I mentally correct. Plants and rocks. “We were about to look if the any of the other sections had something better.”
“Okay, then why not— Oh! I know that thing. Isn’t it one of those [Lesser Wyrms] we fought back when we were level five?”
“…I wouldn’t say ‘fought’. You attacked it, then we had to flee. I think Nick died that day.”
I did!
“Oh. Right. That happened, didn’t it?”
Yeah. Sure. Ignore me. I don’t care. It’s not like we’re in my apartment and you’re about to eat my food or anything
“But that wyrm shouldn’t be of the same flock,” Daniel the Betrayer continues, deaf to my internal mumbling. “This is not the same area as back then.”
“Where is this exactly?”
I might have been able to answer that. I have travelled around quite a lot in Untold Tales, after all, one of the reasons people call me the “Wandering Knight”.
Do they, though?
Shut up.
However, for all intent and purpose, I am currently downed and the screen is on the table, out of my visual reach.
“Somewhere North of Padchans, I think,” Daniel answers. Being the responsible Guild Master of a major guild that he is, he likes to be well-informed. A good thing too, because his Vice-Master is a thoughtless muscle-head.
Guess who I’m referring to?
A hint: she calls her biceps ‘babies’.
That said, I perk up at the name of the city. I recognise that one. “Isn’t that where some dwarves opened a portal to the Infernal Realm?” I ask. It is my belief that you should NEVER let unsupervised dwarves dig anywhere remotely suspicious. When those little beardies don’t open rifts towards foreign dimensions filled with evil anthropophagus beings, they disturb the nap of giant, fire-whip wielding, ancient, easily pissed mythical creatures.
Two identical pairs of black eyes look down at me.
“Yeah…” Dan drawls in a sour tone. “The city almost got obliterated by the army of demons that sprung out of the rift.” He marks a pause then his tone grows accusatory. “There is still a bounty on whoever sold the map to the portal to the miners.”
…
……
…….oh. That map.
Oops?
I blink, cutely if I may say so myself.
“What? Me? I’m innocent!”
Yasmin sends me a glance that says she isn’t buying it. A shame. I’m a real bargain. And I'm child-friendly!
Are you saying you're cheap?
That's not what I'm saying at all! ...is it?
I look alternatively at each of the siblings. “What? They wanted a map to a rich vein of managems. I had one and I needed money. Everyone wins...ish?” I shrug then and roll my eye. “Of course there was some kind of mana source close-by. I mean, managems don’t pop out of just dirt, you know? It's common sense, no? No?” I wave a hand in annoyance. “Who asked those pickaxe-brains to break the big ass creepy-looking seal atop the mana spring? And I checked beforehand you know, there was a clear warning about how this was a portal to Hell, written right next to the seal. I was going to come back later with tools to open it securely.”
There is a slight pause, then Dan lets out a sigh. “I checked too, after the battle. Those scribbles were in ancient runes.”
“So what? The warning was clear.”
“Nick. Almost no one can read ancient runes.”
“I can.”
I’m not 'no one.'
“Yeah,” Yasmin interjects this time, “but you’re not exactly a reference, ‘Sir’ Elric.” She laughs and takes a sip of her beer while I glare at her. Tsk. I don’t want to hear that from you. It isn’t me who got nicknamed ‘Bearminator’ only weeks after starting the game. Besides, how was I supposed to know? I play solo in isolated regions most of the time. I have no clue what the average player’ skill set is nowadays. It's not even hard to learn ancient runes.
No, it's only tedious, time-consuming, and hugely pointless for 99% of players.
What are you insiuating?
Oh, nothing, nothing.
I smile innocently. “Err… Whoopsie?”
““......””
“......”
““......””
“...what?”
“Typical.”
“Indeed.”
They both nod solemnly as if agreeing to some fundamental truth of the Universe. Screw them. “HEY!! Don’t say it like this kind of stuff always happens!” I protest vehemently from my very comfy spot on the floor. By the way, I really like that floor. He is my only friend here. Everyone else is against me. Don’t worry, kitchen floor, I’ll take better care of you in the future. I’ll wash you with lavender essence and never forget to remove my muddy shoes before walking on you ever again.
Please don’t bond with the tiling… It makes me uncomfortable.
The siblings share a glance, and then Daniel shakes his head with a small smile as Yasmin openly snickers.
I go over my previous words in my mind. Aw. ...Urgh. I just walked into that one, didn’t I?
Sure did.
You’re not helping, Voice in my Head.
“Mmmh... I don’t know,” Yasmin purrs. “I believe I remember dirty water flowing backwards, and upwards too, in the sewers of a certain capital city?”
Tsk. I’m never living that down, am I?
Well, covering a royal palace in poop does make for a memorable episode.
“A slight miscalculation in setting the runic device,” I justify begrudgingly. “They’re the first city in the world with running water now. And I apologised. Publicly. Twice. They even ripped me off on the fee. Don’t they dare complain.”
“The meteor shower incident?” the female demon continues.
“Nobody got hurt! …okay, maybe some irrelevant players, but they—”
“Spanking the Wesenian prince bare-bottom?” Dan joins in. Traitor.
I throw my hands up. “How was I supposed to know that beastkin brat was royalty?!”
“Err… Because he was a lion-beastman?” Yasmin throws in her two cents.
“You’ve got answers to everything, don’t you? Well, he deserved it. He stole my pancakes!”
“Maybe, but… In public? During a diplomatic visit to the neighbouring country? In front of the officials of both courts, including the Her Lioness the Queen? Nearly causing a war?” The two-faced man calling himself my friend keeps metaphorically kicking my fallen self—my very, very literally fallen self since, you know, I have yet to get up from the floor.
Comfy, comfy floor.
I love you, floor.
You need a girlfriend.
Where did that come from?
From your worried subconscious.
“I apologised for that too,” I grumble. “And I was still hanged for it. Four times!” I also remind. “Bunch of dictatorial raci—”
“Drying up the Fountain of Youth?” The biceps queen doesn’t even give me some face.
“A pure misunderstanding. That guardian dryad was far too sensitive about the size of her che—”
“Blowing up the Grand Temple of the Holy Land?”
“They rebuilt it!” I counter. “Besides, the Head Priest is the one who asked me to retrieve the damned artefact that blew up everything. Then he refused to pay me because I was,” I make air-quotations, “tainted by the Evil God’ or whatever! I didn’t ask the God of Chaos to ‘bless’ me, okay? You can’t blame me for keeping the instruction parchment to myself... They’re snobbish pricks anyway.”
“Releasing an army of man-eating smurfs?”
“Those were gnomes." They stare at me. I look away. "And I didn’t mean… Okay, that one was on purpose, but there was a very logical expla—”
“Summoning a sixteen-foot-tall Strawberry Elemental?”
“Oh! Come on! That was fun!” And delicious. Such a shame I got caught before I could finish the spell and invoke the storm of whipped cream.
If it weren't for those pesky kids...
“Turning nobles’ children into random animals?”
“…that was an accident. I managed to cancel the magic, and there were barely any side-effects. That little ojou-sama has stopped eating their lawn now. She doesn’t even bleat that much anymore.”
“Causing a snow-storm in the middle of summer?”
“Well, that [Ice Phoenix] was a very unexpected development and—”
“Being caught in bed with the mermaid Crown Princess, on the day of her wedding?”
“That’s—Actually, that's a bit complicated…”
“Burning down the Elves’ Sacred Tree?” Dan shoots me a strange glance. “Why would you even do that?”
I laugh awkwardly. “Haha. Funny you might ask, because—”
“Destroying the Saint Relic of the Cult of Kressos?”
“That ugly thing? It—Wait. How do you even know it was me?”
“You just admitted it.”
“Dammit!”
“Beheading the Statue of Archmagus Gim–”
“OKAAAY!! Okay…” I throw my arms up. Again. Gotta watch those shoulders. “I get it! I’m a natural disaster who causes mayhem and chaos every time he comes into contact with civilisation! Happy?”
They are. Yasmin throws her head back and explodes with laughter, nearly spilling her drink. Dan is more subtle. He only chuckles, but his vaguely pitying glances are even worse. Those fiends. I hate them. But they do my shopping... and they’re kind of my only close friends too... Damned, I’m trapped!
And a bit pathetic…
Oh, shut up.
“Still,” I continue, not totally resigned yet to concede my loss. “You’re just nit-picking incidents. On the overall, I’m not that bad…” I pause and scratch my head. “Am I? ...I mean, I know I have a weird rep, but I did good stuff too… That should count, no?” I don’t sound so sure of myself, even to my own ears. They simply stare down at me, not saying a word. Even Yasmin’s guffaws calmed down. They now both have that same odd mix of awe and pity in their identical black eyes.
I really want to sew their eyelids shut right now.
I second the motion. There are needles and thread in the guest room.
Shut up.
“......”
““......””
“......”
In this moment of awkward silence, the nearly forgotten live feed from NHGame suddenly recalls itself to us, with a female voice rising from the speakers.
"…Prince Orchid, you are the Master of DragonHearts Flowers, arguably the strongest guild of Untold Tales. I guess very few players must be capable of intimidating you. Wouldn’t you say so?"
…Ara? Did the program change? I’m no alchemist, but this doesn’t sound like a recipe for a magical compote. it sounds more like an interview. And did that woman say “DragonHearts Flowers”? What a nostalgic name. Haven’t met those guys in a while. I kind of miss them. They’re funny.
Especially when screaming, running away and on fire.
I wonder what they’re up to… I can see the siblings are interested too. Which is understandable. Their guild, Horizon, is in direct competition with DHF for the top spot in the ranking, even if the two groups’ playstyles are vastly different.
Yasmin scoffs at the screen. “Strongest guild? That band of flowery wusses? Yeah, right. Try the largest gathering of weaklings of the low-level areas.”
“Now, now, Yas. Don’t be mean,” Dan, ever the gentleman, tries to temper his sister. “Strength in number is a valid strategy. Not every guild focuses on individual power like we do.”
Ooooh, so that’s what he calls it? “Focus on individual power?”
And here I thought Horizon was just a herd of battle maniacs. Hahaha. My bad. My bad.
What a silly misconception… I mean, you really shouldn’t jump to conclusion just because the Vice Master got the nickname ‘Bearminator’, or because the Master is called ‘Red Gloves’ for having his hands always covered in the blood of his enemies.
Truly, it could mean anything.
Anything indeed.
...They're totally a bunch of brutes.
That they are.
DragonHearts Flowers, on the other hand, is more a cheap group of weaklings.
Well, now, that's harsh. Their couple hundred “core” members are decent, and the four or five founders, including that Prince Tulip, are actually… err… very decent. But there are just so many of them.
They’re like an invasion of cockroaches.
"Indeed Luna." A young man’s voice answers. I only vaguely recognise Prince Rhododendron. After all, I haven’t met him personally in a while. "I dare say very few players pose a real threat to me."
Overconfident, boasting prick.
"You say ‘few’," the hostess – Luna? – follows up. "So there are some you would deem noteworthy."
"Obviously. I can’t be too arrogant. There are a lot of strong players out there after all," he diplomatically answers.
How suave.
And he even sounds sincere, even if he’s obviously stalling.
But this is interesting. Prince Daisy seems like a genuinely nice guy when he’s not trying to stab me with that flimsy decorative toothpick he calls a sword.
It' a rapier.
Whatever. A true man uses a broadsword! Big swords are male-kind’s romance!
Talk about phallic symbolism… Compensating much?
Shut up will you?
"Then, if you had to name one player," Luna continues to gently corner Prince Poppy despite his attempts at deflecting the question. "One player whom, under no circumstances, you would want to encounter in the game. Would you say such a player exists?"
There is a lengthy pause then. And when Prince Carnation is heard again, at last, he seems to have lost most of the confidence he was projecting until now. "If… If I had to name… one… Yes. Yes, there is one. That man… I… I don’t even know how to describe this nightmare." His voice trembles slightly. "He’s not… exactly too strong. He is not impossible to kill either. I mean I… Well, we got him a few times, but… He’s… He’s just… just chaotic. You never know what to be prepared for because… In fact, I don’t think he himself knows where or how he will strike next… He’s just… just an unpredictable monster."
The siblings glance at me, a small awkward smile on Dan’s face and a feral smirk on Yasmin’s.
…I have a bad feeling about this.
"Are you talking about...?" I don't like the hint of recognition in the host’s tone.
"…Yes. YES!!" Full-blown despair is now what fills Prince Daffodil’s voice. I personally think he’s being a tad overdramatic. "The Wandering Knight! The Sage of the Wild! The Temple’s Bane!"
Ah! I told you people called me that!
Is this the time to act proud?
No! Dammit! What did I ever do to the guy?!
We slaughtered his guild-mates?
Barely trice! In self-defence…ish.
"The Reckless Imbecile!"
Don't use that nickname!! I totally do not agree with it! I do not consent! This is nominal harassment!
I like it though.
Prince Rafflesia’s tone drops to dark depth as he concludes, "The one named… Elric Walker!"
Daniel and Yasmin both erupt into laughter, again, and I throw my arms up, again.
“AW, COME ON!!”
* * * * *