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CHAPTER 1: GUESS WHO’S COMING TO TOWN? NOPE. NOT SANTA. TRY AGAIN.
[ NARRATOR ]
Start City, it was called.
But the Capital of Firstland had received many other names over the years.
Start the Magnificent, the Resplendent, the Iridescent, the City That Never Sleeps (Not For A Lack of Trying), Cultural Capital of the New World, the City of Beginnings, Noob Town, [Redacted], [Redacted], [Redacted], I-Ain’t-Setting-Foot-In-That-Damn-Place-Ever-Again-NO!!-GET-OFF-ME-I’M-NOT-GOING-NOOOOOOO–*abrupt silence*
Shitstorm City too—after an unfortunate incident involving a certain knight and a malfunctioning sewage-treatment rune.
Many months had passed since the glorious—err… the noble—no. The victorious? …well, since the day several hundreds of stunned players had been dropped without mercy or explanation in a destitute city amid a brutal assault by hordes of very homicidal goblins. Now all traces of that bloody mess had been rebuilt—or in some cases, scrubbed away.
Over time, the capital had flourished under the care of its denizens, both NPCs and crafty players, growing into an improbable and luxuriant hybrid of styles—somewhere halfway between medieval Europe and Disneyworld.
Situated by the ocean, Start City sat at the crossroad between the underwater kingdom Subalantis and the two other major land-based powers of the new world, the Beast Kingdom Wesen and the Order Theocracy. Benefiting from this as well as the proximity of the Hell Gate and the Sacred Forest, Start City had become the economic beating heart of the reconquered Pandore Continent. It was a big bowl of multicultural soup, a salad of exotic goods and effervescent activity, a bazaar that never truly rested, a jolly pit of madness where money often spoke the loudest and everything had a price—for better or worse.
Start, City of Wisdom as well, housing the world greatest known library. When one spoke of The Library, no one questioned which one. It was a place of knowledge, wonder, magic and mystery, a living relic predating the country itself. How old was it? The gods only knew—and maybe a few ancient creatures. But good luck asking an Elder Leviathan about architecture. Those overgrown octopi will go on and on about columnar jointing, but try to raise the question of ashlar versus rubble masonry, and suddenly nobody’s home! Hah! Bunch of fat, irreverent, stuck up squi–
Anyway.
A great place for waffles too, that library.
Beware the janitor.
At the heart of the city lied the Heroes’ Plaza and its famous fountain of white and black marble, erected of in remembrance of the day the macabre fate of the city was overturned. It was a monument to the memory of those who died—repeatedly—in defence of Firstland at its most dire hour.
Carved in the stone were a typical party of players.
The male human warrior stood heavily armoured and carried a sword far too big to avoid raising questions as to what it might compensate for.
A dwarven female mage clad in long unflattering robes brandished a crooked stick—which she was likely swindled into believing was a powerful magical staff.
The elven archer, of indeterminate gender, had been intended by the sculptor to appear noble and aloof but just ended up looking pretentiously smug instead. He wasn’t even holding his bow properly.
The rogue—lowered in an uncomfortable half-crouch—was gripping twin daggers as if he had any clue how to dual-wield anything more complex than a fork and a spoon.
The healer looked magnanimous—or maybe just high on plant medicine.
A true vision of glory.
…
Okay. So maybe the statue wasn’t all that great. It’s the thought that mattered, right? Right?!
Well, at least the basin made for a great public pool in summer…
…as long as you didn’t slip on the many coins carpeting the bottom, thrown there by hopeful wish-makers. Some said the chances of a wish being granted was proportional to how many people slipped on your coin. Who knew if that was true—but in the meantime, it had birthed a strange market demand for very slippery coins.
Considering the ideal location—roughly equidistant from every respawn altar in the city—this had become a prime meeting spot for players. Countless parties filled the plaza, as well as many couples, sitting on public benches and the edge of the fountain or even frolicking in the shallow water of the basin—and randomly slipping.
Many people also stood alone, scrutinising the crowd and displaying the various stages of “being stood up”: expectation, anxiety, denial, and finally, anger or resignation.
For the past week, the ongoing celebrations for Princess Aurora’s birthday had made the Heroes’ Plaza even livelier than usual. But on this sunny, festive day, a figure showed up that was noticed by many in spite of the dense crowd.
Her pure, unblemished alabaster skin reflected the sunlight. A matching immaculate white mane flowed in her wake. She went barefoot, skipping along without a care in the world in a frilly white sundress. A white lace parasol twirled in her hands covered by long, white opera gloves. Her striking royal blue eyes—rimmed with pulsing red circles—were the only touch of colour on her body, except on occasions a blood-red lollipop peeked out between her lips.
After hopping on the edge of the fountain basin, she remained sitting there, rooted in place though fidgeting greatly, for more than an hour. She hummed to herself, swayed back and forth, and kicked her feet up and down—restless. Her iridescent blue eyes scanned the crowd anxiously.
Most who tried to talk to her were turned away with a glare, though some lasted for a short chat. A few lucky ones even won a cheerful wave and a smile that showcased cute little vampire fangs. But aside from a couple of insistent party invites, she was generally left unbothered.
However… in the dark crawling shadows cast ‘round the plaza by the shining, travelling day star lurked those who eyed the pallid lass with less than charitable motives. Masked, leather-gloved, and wrapped to their necks in sombre red cowls and cloaks marked with a fanged, grinning crescent moon, those gents were quite evidently up to nay good—quite evidently.
In fact, their failure at dissimulating their intent was so grand, it bordered on farcical. Many a patron at the nearby terraces was eyeing them with open suspicion. Several audacious adventurers even displayed frank eagerness. They caressed their weapons with anticipation, hoping the louche fellows wouldst try something dopey in broad daylight.
So far, however, aside from rudely pointing fingers and whispering their evil plans too loudly, they’d more or less behaved themselves.
And one Victoria Sangbleu was entirely too joyous not to bother with this shady folk.
She’d rather not catch their dumb.
* * *
< MAIN POV >
I. Hate. Today.
I’m bored. I’m tired. I’m slowly getting sun-grilled. And I’m being spied on by idiots.
Very obvious idiots at that. They look so stupid it’s almost mystifying. It must be a disease. A terrible, terrible disease. I hope it’s not contagious and set off the Dumpocalypse.
Do they think I’m blind? Or that I didn’t notice them? Dummies…
I lie down on the edge of the fountain basin and let my parasol cover my upper body like an igloo of shadows. My left hand dips into the water. The coolness soaks through my glove. I focus on that instead of the oppressive heat.
I’m sooo hoooooot!
Yes, we are.
Not like that…
Don’t deny it.
Whatever you say. I’m just glad I’m not extra-crispy yet. I doubt another vamp would have lasted this long in the sun without going fireworks—half-human or not.
Too Close to the Sun Title Legendary A title given to one who touched the Sun—the SUN!!!—and probably died as a consequence …or maybe not. What do I know? An’way… Title grants extreme resistance to any negative magical effects caused by sunlight—very helpful for pesky undead brats.
Turns out, being burned alive by an avatar of a demi-goddess is the ultimate vaccine against sunburns. Who knew?
At best I thought it’d give us skin cancer.
That’s the UV lights. And don’t joke about cancer. It’s not funny.
I beg to differ. What’s not hilarious about one’s body trying to commit suicide? Why, I say it’s the height of comedy! Right up there with shooting puppies with a crossbow.
You are a horrible person, Ariel. Did anyone ever tell you that?
Aw. I love you too, lil’ bro.
…sigh…
Frankly, I didn’t so much “touch” the Sun as I was hugged to incineration by her.
I guess I know the culprit for that one.
Loved by the Sun Title Epic As long as sunlight touches your body, you will always be in the Sun’s eye.
Always...
Always...
Always...
…
Why are all the deities in this word so intent on stalking me?!
Because you’re... you?
Don’t act as if you’re innocent in this!
I didn’t think you’d acknowledge my influence.
Mum would have an attack.
Don’t remind me.
I still need to flush those meds down the toilet before she decides to drop by unannounced.
Let’s hope the sewer rats like anti-psychotics.
…
I peek underneath my dome of lace. The cloaked dummies are still being lurky creeps.
And still conspicuous as fuck.
I say, maybe we shouldn’t expect too much from people who believe cloaks and masks in broad daylight makes them less noticeable.
I blame pop culture.
I snort and twirl the red lollipop in my mouth. Actually, it’s not real candy. It’s something I made with crystallised blood as a prop to complete my cute and innocent princess persona. I hoped to appeal to Thena’s protective instincts and dissuade her from abandoning me.
Unfortunately, for that masterful scheme to work… first, the handsome half-orc needs to show up. “Where is she?!” Thena wouldn’t stand me up, would she?
A beauty like us? Never. Who would dare do such a thing?
I’ve even put on this cute dress! And I did my hair! And I used that elven bodyspray. Can’t that blunt, sexy slab of abs appreciate the miles I’m willing to go for her? Clothes, hairdo, perfume and… and… that’s already a lot! I’ve watched so many womanliness tutorials online, my browser history is making me doubt my own sexuality!
You mean gender identity.
Not being late is the least she could do!
Brooding handsomeness doesn’t excuse everything!
I prop myself on my forearms. “I know! If she doesn’t show up soon, I’ll accept someone else’s party invitation! That’ll teach her! I’m here to have fun, crackers in a basket! Not to wait for hours when I could be hunting horned rabbits or cooking up potions!” –Wait. Is that alchemist shop on Oak Lane is still open?
Wasn’t it shut down on drug trafficking charges?
…oh, yeah. That happened. It’s that guy who was arrested for selling unprocessed fairy dust.
Silly of him… to get caught.
Drugs are bad.
You didn’t seem that opposed while getting shitfaced in dust-cake.
That was then. This is now. I’m reformed. I’m a good, proper girl now.
Right.
Why do I feel you don’t believe me? I’m seri—
“A-hello there, beautiful.” A shadow with a faux-suave voice falls over me. Swallowing a cringe, I lift the side of my parasol and plaster a polite smile on my face.
No need to start a fight for no reason.
Kill me now.
Between the charring sun and me stands a dark elf [Pretty Boy]. Grey skin. Spiky black hair. Open-chested black shirt showing his “muscles”. I’d wager his entire muscle mass wouldn’t fill a single one of Thena’s gorgeous biceps. Though, of course, I’m unbiased. Studded leather pants—black also. I can’t see his feet, but I’m betting on black biker boots.
I can’t honestly fault his sense of style, but his arrogant smirk makes me want to punch his teeth out.
Why stop there? Let’s break his fucking jaw. And shoot his kneecaps. Then we can steal those sweet black assassin daggers hanging at his belt.
I ignore the murderous voice in my head and keep my face carefully content. “Hi. Can I help you with something? If it’s about joining your party, I’m sorry, but I’m already waiting for someone.”
“I’m Rrrrrrramon,” he introduces himself with a smile that might look attractive in a used car commercial. Meanwhile, his blatant disregard for my rebuff makes my fake smile cramp even further.
Why is he rolling his r’s so much? Is he trying for an accent or did he fall asleep on the virtual keyboard when imputing his character name?
Maybe he’s part catkin?
“My friends and I…” Rrrrrrrrrrrrrramon gestures towards the foursome of boy band members behind him—one human, one wood elf and two half-tigerkins—who are busy trying to look casual but failing miserably. Take if from an experienced angry-mob-dodger: posing like you’re at a k-pop photoshoot does not help you blend in. “…saw you all on your own, and naturally, we thought—”
I tune him out. He seems like the kind of person who won’t take a hint unless it punches him in the nose with a baseball bat. This might take a while…
And I know I said I would accept someone else’s party invite if Thena took too long, but I didn’t say I’d accept it from the first closeted super sentai team that showed up.
I’ve been meaning to inspect my status in more details for a while. Might as well do that now.
And I’m supposed to be the evil sibling…
Status Window
Avatar Name: Victoria Sangbleu Level: 27 Race: Ancestral Dhampir Class: BloodSoul Gender: Female Subclass: Princess Marital status: Widow Alignment: Darkness, Chaos Affiliation: Kingdom of Erwyn
Titles Ageless Beauty, Awakened Inheritance, Broken Heart, Chaos’ Apostle, Death Addict, Enemy of Order, Gambles with Fate, Heretic, Immortal Exiled Princess, Lilith’s Toy, Living Legend, Loved by the Sun, One Stalked by the Gods, Princess of Erwyn, Progenitor, Sheltered Lady, Too Close to the Sun, Tormented Soul
Body & Soul Health: 80 / 80 Mana: 4,217 / 4,217 Stamina: 52 / 90 Reputation: 1,002
Basic Stats Strength (STR): 9 Wisdom (WIS): 179 Agility (AGI): 10 Intellect (INT): 245 Vitality (VIT): 8 Charisma* (CHA): 53
Additional Stats* Dexterity: 22 Leadership: 40 Divine Affinity: 219 Luck: 52 Endurance: 82 Nobility: 58 Erudition: 81 Perception: 97 Intuition: 45 Tenacity: 159
Prime Magical Affinities Fire: 2 Low Nature: 1Mid Water: 2 Mid Void: 2 Low Air: 1 Mid Light: 🔒 [Locked] Earth: 1 Mid Darkness: 3 Low
Sub Magical Affinities Blood (Darkness): 2 Low Mind (Darkness): 1 Low Holy (Light): 🔒 [Locked] Poison (Nature): 1 Low Ice (Water): 1Mid Runes (Void): 2 Low Lava (Fire): 1 Low Soul (Darkness): 2 Low Lightning (Air): 1 Low
Remaining SP: 4 *Stat Points cannot be added to this stat.
I’ve managed the window so it doesn’t show my former stats anymore. The sight was depressing. At least, the physical stats were. I mean, look at this! Come on! Nine in [Strength]? Eight in [Vitality]? A human child could pummel me to death! That I could blast the brat into orbit before he even got close is irrelevant. I’m liable to death by toddler! I like to live dangerously, but that’s pushing it!
Hey. Wait a second. Ancestral Dhampir? Was that bit there before?
I think so? Maybe not, I don’t know.
Man, I really should check my stats more often.
You really should.
Race: Ancestral Dhampir
Groups: Human, Undead Alignment: Chaos, Darkness Origin: Eden The bloodline of the First Progenitor and Creator of the vampire race has long been diluted into the blood of his human descendants. However, under certain circumstances, this ancient cursed legacy may awaken in one individual, turning them into a vampire-human hybrid. Certainly, an Ancestral Dhampir may pale next to the First Ancestor’s might and lacks the physical prowess of their full-fledged vampire counterparts, but the magical might of their blood is nothing to be trifled with.
Initial Stats Strength (STR): 8 Wisdom (WIS): 13 Agility (AGI): 9 Intellect (INT): 15 Vitality (VIT): 5 Charisma* (CHA): 10
Growth +1 INT per level
If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
+1 WIS per 2 levels
6SP needed to raise VIT by 1
Magical Affinities* Light: 🔒 [locked] Blood (Darkness, Nature): 2 Low Darkness: 2 Low Mind (Darkness): 1 Low
Skills (Summary) Bat Shifting (Lesser) Active Shift into a bat. Only at night. Bewitching Eye Active Impose your will upon weaker minds. Requires eye contact. Bloody Feed Recovery Passive Consuming blood greatly improves HP regeneration. Echolocation Active Map your surroundings using only sound. Accuracy increases in bat form. Hemokinesis (Higher) Active Manipulate your own blood as if it were an extra limb.
Traits (Summary) Ancestral Might
(Vampire) Immune to the powers of the lesser members of your kind. Can make lesser kin feel the power of your bloodline. Darkvision See in dim light within 60 feet as if it were bright light, and in darkness as if it were dim light. Cannot discern colour in darkness, only shades of grey. Instinctive Flyer Possesses an instinctive understanding of air currents and how to navigate them. Lethal Rhabdophotophobia Suffers from extreme weakness against all forms of Light Magic, including sunlight, and will start turning to ash at the slightest exposure. Sharp Senses Possesses enhanced 5 primary senses. Specific Diet (Blood) Requires drinking the blood of other creatures to survive.
*All other magical affinities are set to null by default
Six stats points for one increase in [Vitality]?! Is that legal?
At least I know where all my SP have been disappearing to.
We couldn’t exactly remain at 50 HP and hope to survive.
Probably not.
“…and so we would be most delighted if you could join our humble party for an enjoyable hunt. What do you say?”
But still, 6 points? That’s a lot.
It really is.
“……”
We should get our hands on some kind of gear to up our physical stats a bit.
We probably should.
“……”
But first, you probably should answer that idiot before he starts another monologue.
Right…
I look up at the expectant dark elf and strongly resist rolling my eyes. Instead, I sit up, cross my legs daintily, close and set my parasol aside, and finally fish a pair of home-made sunglasses from my inventory. Once I’ve set them on my nose, I link my fingers together.
“What you’re basically saying is… that you wish to invite someone to your party without first asking about their class, skills, level, alignment, or guild affiliation, nor volunteering any such information about yourself or your companions.” I stare over the rim of my glasses and raise an eyebrow by a fraction of an inch. “Seriously, darling, how amateurish can you get? You did not even think to question my availability. What if I can only play half-an-hour every other week? Have you thought of that?
“Anyway, none of this matters. I already told you I’m waiting for someone. Did you not hear me? Are you perhaps daft, or just deaf? Oh, well. Regardless, I have no intention to serve as some sort of female mascot or window dressing to your little Hot Topic powered bishounen quartet. So be good pretty boys, and move along.” I made a shooing gesture. “Shoo. Shoo.”
At the end of my little spiel, Rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrramon is convincingly mimicking a fish out of water. He’s going to swallow a fly if he keeps this up.
That was very bitchy of you. I’m so proud, I think I might cry a little.
I’m just trying to get him to back off.
Sure you do. Come on, give yourself to the Dark Side. We have bagels and subconsciously repressed traumatic memories.
…anyway, believe whatever you want.
Eventually, Rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrramon gets his bearings. Not for the best, though, as a frown mars his pretty face. “Listen… do you want to come hunting with us or not?”
Is he for real? “...NO!!”
“Come on. You’ve been alone here for a least half an hour. Face it. Whoever you’re waiting for is not coming. You’re obviously a mage of some kind, and we don’t have one in our group. Stop playing hard-to-get and let’s go.”
I’m somewhat in awe. At this level of stubbornness, stupidity crosses the line into something of an art form.
“OH. MY. GOAT!! Will you just leave me alone?! I do NOT want to go with you. So please, go away!” I spin around and drop back on my side on the fountain edge, facing the statue. “Prat,” I grumble petulantly. I pick up my parasol and open it behind me as a barrier between us.
The parasol is abruptly ripped from my grip.
I yelp in surprise and nearly fall off onto the pavement trying to hold to the shaft. I quickly release it, but the recoil sends me barrelling backwards—into the water.
*splash*
I climb to my hands and knees, sputtering, simultaneously chilled by the cool water and burned by the direct sunlight. It is not a pleasant feeling.
Is this the right time for a rant about the magnifying effect of water?
No, probably not.
I need to get myself some waterproof sunscreen.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see an angry [Pretty Boy] tightly grip my hand-made, crocheted, spider-silk lace parasol and throw it to the ground, breaking at least two of the ribs.
Ooooh, now he’s done it!
I rise to my feet, dripping, dress and long hair sticking to my face like a bleached-haired Sadako out of a well, fangs bared and hissing. “That’s it, butterboy, say goodbyes to your balls!” I glare at the cretin. He’s blushing, or maybe furious. Our grazes meet, and he pales a little.
I flex my will. The fake lollipop flies out of the water to come hovering next to my face.
It would be sooo easy to shape my blood into a tiny, tiny needle and skewer his family jewels. Or I could go for the eyes—always a classic. Cut his cheeks open? It’d give his face more personality at least, and he’d have a story to tell! Though I might not manage that one without restraining him first. Surgery requires precision. Plus, I doubt the guards would leave me be if I start I casually cutting some bloke open in the middle of Heroes Plaza.
I’m still undecided when a shadow suddenly blocks out the sun. A massive armoured gauntlet drops on the elf’s shoulder. His knees buckle. He yells in surprise—or maybe pain. I don’t think his collarbone survived the shock. I heard a crack.
For an instant, I freeze, thinking it’s the City Guard already intervening to break up the fight. But when I look up, I immediately recognise the unmistakeable annoyed golden eyes and brooding green face of my saviour.
Did we need saving? We seemed to be doing okay.
Shut up. I’m a powerless damsel now. I’ve decided.
Whatever.
The lollipop shoots back into my mouth, out of sight. I try to discreetly arrange my soaked mane, frown, and mumble a quick hair-drying spell. My hair instantly puffs out like a startled blowfish.
“……”
I’m not entirely used to long hair yet.
I use a similar spell on my dress. This goes slightly better. Although, it’s all wrinkled now. Why the developers felt the need to implement ironing in this game, I will never understand.
Done with my quick freshening up, I step on the edge of the fountain, aim, and take a flying leap straight at the big semi-orc. “Thena!”
She looks up from glaring a hole into Rrrramon’s head. Her eyes widen and she quickly shoves the elf aside to catch me. Our bodies collide. I immediately lock my legs around her torso and my arms around her neck—like a koala on its favourite branch. I nuzzle her neck. She smells of musk, pine leaves, scorched earth and something cursed.
I want that as my new shampoo.
“Vicky…” The annoyance is so thick in her voice, a sword might not cut through it. That’s my Thena.
I meet her golden glare and give my best carefree smile. “Yes, my handsome green Valkyrie?”
The compliment bounces off her like a chestnut off a dragon’s hide. Her glare remains unwavering. “What did I tell you about underwear?”
Oh, darts. She saw that. I thought I’d dried my clothes fast enough.
“Err… Underwear is like punctuation? It’s not compulsory, but civilised people use it?” I bat my eyelashes, trying to appear cute.
I didn’t think Thena’s glare could get any more deadpan, but there it is! She proves me wrong.
She’s a woman of many surprises.
And you’re an impenitent cretin.
With a deep sigh, she plucks me off her—effortlessly overcoming my resistance—and lowers me to the ground. “Have you no shame?”
“None whatsoever, ma’am!” I reply proudly with a formal salute. But seeing her eyebrow twitch, I quickly amend, “I didn’t intend for anyone to see! They’re too constricting! I can’t stand it!” I don’t understand how women can endure this day after day.
Nobody said you couldn’t wear boy shorts.
On this body?! I’d rather not offend the Fashion Goddess. She’s probably the only divinity I haven’t blasphemed against yet.
Thena rubs the bridge of her nose tiredly. “How did I get saddled with an insane exhibitionist?” she whispers—but not so low I don’t catch it with my enhanced senses.
I probably should feel somewhat offended, but I don’t.
…does that say something about myself? Perhaps.
But I’d rather not dwell on it.
“Never mind that! What took you so long?! I’ve been waiting for ages!”
Thena looks confused. “Have you? It’s the time we agreed on over the chat.” She glances at her interface. “In fact, I’m a bit early.”
“……”
Ara, ara… Could I have mayhap perpetrated a blunder?
Now that I think about it… the meeting was at five PM.
…Was it, really?
Yep.
Why did we come at four?
You put the alarm one hour early to be sure we’d be on time, then forgot about it.
Oh, golly. Now I feel silly.
“Oh, well. My fault then. Right! Forget I said anything. Aaanyhoo… Let’s go!” I grab her hand and start walking away from the fountain. Thankfully, Thena lets herself be led away, though with a bemused expression.
However, we’ve barely taken three steps when a very unwelcome person reminds me of his unfortunate existence. Rrrramon stumbles into view, holding his painful shoulder. He glares at me venomously, channelling the all intimidating power of a kicked puppy.
Come on! Why are you even glaring at me? I’m not the one who broke your shoulder.
Still staring my way, he points his good hand at Thena. “You turned me down for that?”
That… That… That…
“Uh?” My brain short-circuits.
.
.
.
I’m sorry. “…that?”
“Why would you want to hang out with that ugly cow instead of someone like m-hgn?!” The elf chokes on the end of his sentence when I grab his throat, my nails digging into his skin. The fake lollipop flies out of my mouth and jams itself into his, right up against his uvula. He chokes some more.
I drag his face down to my level and smile brightly, all my teeth on display. “Now, now, why don’t you suck on that for a bit, dickhead?” Slowly, I spin the fake candy in his mouth with my mind. “That’ll keep you from badmouthing people whom you cannot hope to measure to. Since you’re apparently too dead from the neck up to know when to quit.” I keep my voice to a chilling whisper. This is just for us. My irises pulse with warmth.
I don’t break eye contact until he nods dumbly.
*ting*
[
I release my grip and pat him on the cheek. “Good boy.” Now he looks stupid, squinting at the small stick between his sealed lips but making no attempt to remove it.
I spin around, recapture my date’s hand and, skipping, pull her away from the cretin. “Let’s go, Thena. We’ll catch moron cooties if we stay here.”
“Arf!”
A mocking bark answers my statement.
Oh, right. That mutt’s here too.
Only now do I notice Toto laying lazily on Thena’s pauldron. He looks down at me with a smug doggy grin. My eyes narrow, the urge to fight for territory welling inside, but I leave him be.
For now.
Sigh. Whatever possessed me to stuff a smarty undead dragon soul inside a cute stuffed puppy…
I don’t know. What possesses you to do anything you do?
I live every day in regret.
Is that what they mean when they say our mistakes come back to haunt us?
It’s a literal ghost here.
From behind, I can hear the hesitant voices of Pretty Boy’s cronies—probably only daring to approach now that the scary green woman had left. “Err… Ramon? Are you going to keep that in your mouth?”
“I… No… I mean, yes… I should… suck on that for a bit…” Pretty Boy answers in a dazed voice.
The rest of the conversation gets lost in the distance and my lack of caring.
“Are you fine with leaving him be?” Thena sounds conflicted. “He was harassing you. Shouldn’t we report him to the guards, or something?”
“Uh? Oh, that! …Nah. ‘s fiiine. It wasn’t that bad, really. Just a minor annoyance. A little fly disturbing my nap. Bzzz.” I shrug and briefly flap my hands like buzzing wings. “Every second we waste on his case is a second too much. We should use that time to do something important instead. Like eating ice-cream!”
I look around excitedly. Stalls and performers line the sides of the plaza and the streets branching out from it. The festival is in full swing and will continue until the night of Aurora’s Coming of Age, when it’ll culminate into a grandiose fireworks display! I can hardly wait! Magical fireworks are the best!
But for now, I’m merely searching for something cold to eat, to fight the heat and share with Thena.
Maybe not right here, though.
Maybe not.
As I pull Thena more hurriedly towards a side street, a flicker of evil smile twitches my lips up. I focus briefly and a wave of mana leaves me.
The screams break out immediately.
“GOD!! HIS HEAD JUST EXPLODED!!”
“WHERE DID THOSE RED SPIKES COME FROM?!”
“GUARD!! GUARD!!”
Music to my ears.
Ah, yes, yes. Bothering me is fine. But you just don’t insult my Thena.
Let’s get moving before the guards get here and start asking questions.
Amen.
The crowd quickly swallows us, and I forget all about the incident just as fast.
Soon, I spot a halfling selling frozen treats off the back of an enchanted cart. I point and pull Thena in that direction—or try to, but a tug on my hand jerks me to a stop.
“Why did you do that?” Thena’s voice is flat, and maybe a little judgemental.
I turn around and meet her scrutinising stare with my most innocent smile. “Do what?”
Her glare hardens. “Don’t take me for a fool. You should have just called the guards.”
I roll my eyes so hard my head moves along with them. “It would have taken way too long—and a waste of time for everyone involved. He didn’t technically do anything illegal… Being a stubborn git is not against the law.”
And it very well should.
Stubborn dickheads are the dickroaches of humanity.
It's ‘cockroaches’.
I know what I said.
Thena still doesn’t look convinced. I sigh emphatically and remove my sunglasses, fold them and drop them in Inventory. “Look. He’s a player. He’ll be fine. What’s a little killing between fellow gamers?”
She doesn’t reply.
After a few seconds, I cross my arms and avert my gaze from hers. “…I don’t like it when people insult my friends.”
At last, she sighs. “…Don’t do stuff like this again without consulting me first. Your actions also involve me too when I’m with you.”
“…’s fine…’s just a game.”
“Vicky,” she warns.
I look up briefly. “Sure. I can do that.”
“Good.”
Turning around, I fetch a new parasol from storage. Good thing I crocheted a whole batch during my foray into tailoring. I’m not usually one for grinding skills—it’s waaay too mind-numbingly boring—but crochet, I don’t mind. Kind of soothes my mood, actually. Knitting does too.
Now that I think of it, it’s how I got the [Mediation] skill… And luckily, the parasols are similar enough to be considered stackable items, so I can always carry a bunch without them clogging up my inventory.
You never know when you’ll need a hand-made crocheted lace umbrella.
I peek back at Thena, but my companion’s face is introspective and broody. I mean, she’s often like that, but she seems more so than usual.
A pat on her arm gets her attention. Stormy golden eyes find me. “You know, Thena, if something’s bothering you, you can always speak to me. I’m a pretty good listener, and I will give you my undivided attention.” Although… even as I speak, I can feel my eyes drifting to the ice-cream vendor.
You’re a social failure—and a terrible friend.
Aw. Now I feel bad.
As you should.
Thena shakes her head. “It’s nothing.”
“Oh, well, if it’s nothing then… let’s get some ICE-CREAM!!” Whooping, I rush to the shorty confectioner-wizard working his magic to create unstable animal-shaped creamy contraption of cold sugary goodness.
Looking at the menu nailed on the side of the cart, I call out. “Thena, what flavour do you want?”
“No, thanks. I don’t want any.”
I slowly turn around, tears glistening at the corner of my puppy-dog eyes. Thena groans.
Five minutes later, I’m happily skipping through the festival, licking a kitten-shaped pistachio ice-cream. Two steps behind me, glaring the crowd away, a sombre-faced, hulking semi-orc in cursed black and purple armour eats vanilla-choco tiger.
Today is so much fun!
* * *
[ ISABELLA STEWART ]
Isabella observed from the shadows as the guards tried to re-establish order in the Heroes Plaza. Like most people present, she had been startled when red spines had brutaly erupted from the dark elf’s head, dropping the rogue’s corpse on the pavement.
It took some balls to murder someone so casually in broad daylight, more so in the middle of one the most frequented places in the capital. And while Firstland authorities might find it harduous to prove the white girl’s culpability, Isabella knew better—as a vampire and direct follower of the Vampire Lord. She’d watched the whole scene unfold with begrudging respect and a bit of disquiet.
Her gaze shifted to the street where the white-haired vampire had disappeared with the greenskin. Immunity to sunlight and haemokinesis at this level? Who is this girl? Isabella had never seen such skill aside from her Lord and Master. No… would the master have such fine control over his blood? At such a distance? Without using a specific spell? The huntress had trouble believing the girl was a player. Their guild kept tabs of all new vampires in the game, and this frightening albino doll had too distinctive an appearance to have been overlooked.
She glanced at the masked man beside her. “You did right in calling me. Go report to the Master.”
“Yes, milady huntress.” The vampire bowed to her before rushing off down the alley, his cloak billowing behind him. Isabella watched him go with a neutral face. Only when she was alone did she let her worry show. She bit her thumbnail. Could this girl… be more powerful than Master?
She quickly shook her head. No. Of course, that’s not possible. Her beautiful features distorted in a snarl. That little minx must be cheating! …somehow. Some old artefact, maybe. No vampire is greater than My Lord. She spun around—her cloak fanning grandly around her—and walked away from the square, taking several turns to lose any potential stalker.
Reaching the alley where she’d left her shadow gate open, she checked one last time for a tail. But aside from an escaped fowl running around with a snake in its beak, the street was deserted. Jaw set, the [Shadow Huntress] stepped into the darkness and melted inside.
Within the distorted mirror of the Shadow Realm, Isabella darted after her prey.
The little minx’s secret cheat would soon be in her master’s large, sexy hands. Isabella swore this oath to herself.
* * *
[ TAKEO NIWATORI ]
Inside the secret courtyard of the secretly secret base, Takeo concluded the day’s meditation with a final clap of his hands. He stood, dusted his hakama, linked his sleeves together, and walked away from the blooming sakura tree whose shade he’d been borrowing. On his way out, he gingerly followed the stone paths meandering through the courtyard, religioulsy avoiding any patches of grass in his way.
Through a sliding paper door—a shoji—he accessed a dark and narrow corridor. As he closed the door behind him, a swallow landed on the lawn outside. A startled chirp was all the bird whistled out before it vanished in a puff of feathers. Empty once more, the lawn rippled softly without wind. A noise like a toad’s croak broke the silence, followed by the tack of a shishi-odoshi.
In the dark hallway, Takeo’s footsteps sounded unnaturally loud. The noise bounced and fragmented off the bamboo walls, floor and ceiling. It gradually increased in volume and echoes until an entire invisible angry mob was marching alongside him. After a dozen yards, the wooden surroundings gave way to glass panels with no segue. The noise abruptly cut off.
Behind the newly transparent walls, floor and ceiling, exotic sea creatures swam in azure waters. Yellow jellyfishes drifted in tight clouds. Dolphin-like monsters covered in purple scales and far too many eyes herded them like sheepdogs. An amorphous blob wearing a snail shell dragged a trail of drool over the window. A giant polka-dotted eel peeked out timidly from a forest of underwater fungus. It sprang back into hiding with a when a blue lobster closed all four of its pincers on its nose.
An entire fantasy ocean surrounded Takeo, spreading further than its apparent distance to the hidden courtyard should allow.
A stone’s throw away, on coral stools sat a gang of buff sirens. The heavily scarred fish women looked up from their game of strip poker when Takeo walked past and waved at him with broad grins. The sight of their pointed shark teeth nearly gave the Japanese man a heart attack. However, he concealed his terror and returned the salute politely, while forcing his feet to keep a moderate pace and not run away in a blind panic.
Breathe. Breathe. Think of the ostrich feather floating in a silent, endless space. It rises and falls. Rises and falls, in sync with your breathing. Rises and falls. Rises… and falls… I breathe… I am calm… I am the wind of stable consciousness in the empty vale of contented solitude… yes, like that quack of a yoga instructor told you–No. Breathe. Breathe. You are calm. I. AM. CALM– He exited the bright aquarium area, stepping into a dark cellar. Ohgodohgodohgodohgod! God! Scary!! Sirens are scary! So scary…
Normal women were already terrifying enough on their own. What matter of a lunatic thought smart to give them flesh-shearing jaws, the speed of a torpedo underwater, and the strength to snap his spine like a twig! It’s scary!! I can’t stand it any more! I give up! I’M GOING BACK TO THERAP–OHMMMMMMMMMM… Ohmmm… I am the joyful otter frolicking in the current of obliviousness… Ohmmmm… I am ineffable…
Walls of solid, heavy masonry arched oppressively overhead. The cellar spread as far as the eye could see—which wasn’t very far. Takeo’s gaze furthermore stayed firmly down to avoided bumping into the many damp umbrellas scattered on the tiled floor. He also ignored the disembodied echoes of infants giggling and singing nursery rhymes… in French.
“Il pleut, Il pleut bergère… Rentre tes blancs moutons…”
He soon came across a flight of stairs spiralling straight down into a well. With great relief, he dived into its depth.
Reaching the bottom, his feet sank into a thick layer of powder snow. A strong and icy gale blew in through the open door ahead of him. Takeo tightened his robes around him and pushed through the blizzard. With every step, snow crunched under his shoes. Behind him, a tower rose interminably into the white stormclouds.
Without looking, he dodged a snowball aimed at his head and flipped the bird over his shoulder at a group of laughing artic foxkin children.
A cave entrance opened in the middle of the tundra. It led into a long tunnel and the inside of a sleeping volcano. Takeo crossed a river of lava, jumping from one unstable platform to the next with a feigned stoicism born from habit and deep resignation. He hurried across before the fire sprites playing in the stream noticed him. Just as the mischievous elementals finally registered his presence, he stepped on the teleport formation on the central island and vanished in a flash.
The magical translocation dropped him in the middle of a cyclopean labyrinth of moving marble walls. He hurried away from the formation. The [Lava Fairies] rarely left their sanctuary—but “rarely” was the key word in that statement. Experience had taught Takeo never to presume what a fey might or might not do.
The maze was unfairly complex. He quickly got lost. Three times, he was forced to ask for directions from the same, increasingly amused [Demonotaur]—before recalling he had to walk a certain section of the maze backwards, hopping on one foot, and singing Psalm Six of the cursed tome Tsul Demood fo Nolemretaw lanrefni in order to reveal the hidden exit.
Takeo was mumbling colourful cow-related insults when the marble of the walls finally turned to cob and closed doors appeared on both sides of the corridor every few steps. He ignored all of them, eventually stopping in a nondescript space in-between two doors.
He knocked twice.
A muffled voice filtered from the other side. “Who’s there?”
“Amos.”
“Amos who?”
“Amos Quito.”
The coded sequence granted him entrance into the Grandmaster’s Lair. The wall slid into the ground, revealing the inside of a small and dark room. A luxuriant pink jungle was visible through a tiny window. Another showed a field of giant poppies.
The secret door closed up as soon as he’d crossed it.
To be perfectly honest, Takeo wasn’t exactly sure why they needed passwords inside their own secret headquarters. However, “why” was a taboo question within their organisation. Not because of any omerta kind of situation, mind you. Rather, the explanation would only confuse you more. Some answers were beyond what most people could handle. Other questions simply lacked an answer. It was easier not to ask.
Things happened for a reason… or they didn’t.
Regardless, asking was pointless and heretical.
Inside the obscure, shabby room, a cloaked figure stood hunched over a large fuming and bubbling cauldron, slowly stirring the boiling mixture inside with a large ladle amidst the ethereal vapours rising from the broth. Takeo came to stand beside the figure. Wordlessly, he accepted the full ladle presented to him and drunk the scalding brew. He swallowed and waited for a few heartbeats for the taste to dissipate.
“How do you feel?” the figure asked, solemn.
“…A bit more salt.”
“Tsk. Thought so.” The other reached for a bag of white powder to his side. “I can never get the seasoning right. Chicken soup shouldn’t be so hard to make.”
“Grandmaster, I come bearing news.” The other didn’t reply but gestured for Takeo to continue. “I have not yet discovered where the Scarlet Clan was getting their weapons or who was helping them plan their attacks but—”
“A shame. Mere orcs ruffians shouldn’t be this troublesome for the Wesian armies. We’re lucky those spunky brats from Horizon gave them a good spank–HAAAAAH!!”
“Grandmaster?!”
“I dropped my ladle in the pot…”
“…..”
“Eh. Never mind. You were saying?”
Takeo did not miss a beat and continued, “The Night Walkers are planning an attack on Horizon’s new fort, likely within the next trimester. The specifics are still hazy, but I have eyes in their headquarters. Anything they plan, we will know.”
“Little vampimposter wants to play with the big boys? Hehehe.” A dangerous smile played briefly on the grandmaster’s lips. “Well, I trust your abilities, Taky, my boy. Do as you see fit. Just keep me informed if anything interesting comes up. Now, I need you to—”
“One last thing.”
“Yes?”
“At the Heroes Plaza, my subordinate caught another snake similar to the one found in the Dusk Manor.”
“Another shamanic familiar?”
“More likely a druidic invocation, I think. It is too basic for a proper familiar, and it turned back into a twig as soon as it was ‘killed’.”
“Ooooh,” the grandmaster whistled. “So we’re not the only ones to be keeping an eye on things. How fun. How… intriguing! The more, the merrier! Ask your pets to keep on the lookout for more of those snakes. My nose’s telling me we’ll see more in the future. My nose’s never wrong. Unless I’m hungover… or have a cold.”
“…It will be done.” Takeo nodded.
“Of course. I trust you. You are my right hand. My eyes. My lieutenant. My most competent agent. My second.” Two clawed hands grabbed Takeo’s shoulders, digging into them. “You… are my number one… guy.”
“Yes, sir.” Takeo remained stoic.
The grandmaster released him and patted the cauldron. “And now, I need you to bring this to Nana’s orphanage. It is of the utmost importance. She will never forgive me if it’s late again. And in turn, I’ll never forgive you. If you are late, you will be… punished! …Painfully!”
Takeo’s eye twitched. What does it have to do with me?! You’re the one who’s always late! If you’re worried about speed, add more shortcuts in this damned building!!! I nearly got spiked last time I went to the library. Spiked! By wooden spikes shooting from the walls! This is insane! I WON’T TOLERA–Ohmmmmmmm. Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in… I am the cosmic sandpaper rubbing the calamity of life. Breathe out… I am a fart dancing on the winds of destiny… This is dumb–Ohmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.
Without a word, Takeo pulled the recipient into his inventory—soup and everything. He looked at his esteemed leader. “What about you, sir?”
“I’ll be having a closer look at the Apostle.”
Takeo nodded. “Of course, sir.” Of course, my arse! You keep all the fun jobs to yourself! Trusted lieutenant? Right-hand man?! You only use me to run errands! WHY AM I EVEN PLAYING THIS GA—Ohmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm! The flow of omnipotent peace flows like the mighty stream through my chakras. Ohmmmmm. I have no idea what I am saying. Ohmmmmmmmmmmm. I need to buy toilet paper. I’m nearly out of it. Ohmmmmmmmmmmmmm… Ohmmmmm… I need more antidepressants. Takeo bowed expressionlessly. “I’ll be going then.”
“Yes. May the fork be with you, my Son,” the grandmaster bid his farewell. With great solemnity, he brandished… a spoon.
“May the fork be with you as well, Father.” Takeo flashed a spoon of his own—his hands appearing then retreating into the folds of his sleeves. Spinning on his heels, he walked out the only visible door… and into the busy streets of Start City.
Never looking back at the banal old house that served as an entrance to the hidden temple, the slightly neurotic Asian man melted into the noisy crowd of festival-goers.
* * * * *