The hero walked in sullen silence as he pretended to not hear the narrator. A narrator so kind and gentle who has apologised for his little jokes several times by now. To continue this any longer would be in bad taste.
…
Perhaps a joke might cheer him up.
…
The hero is valiant and strong.
…
Well it made the gods of this world laugh.
“Actual gods are willing to talk to you?”
Well, gods watch the narrator's stream sometimes and they leave comments on my patreon.
“You mean they're watching right now?”
No. Most gods are watching a channel with lazy cats right now and another streamer who has been playing a game of chess against himself for 4 years straight. They keep reviving the streamer every time he dies and reset his memory.
“What the hell dude? That is so messed up.”
The narrator agrees. Watching lazy cats is disturbing.
“I forgot you're a sociopath.”
Fake news aside, the ploy for more attention from the gods hasn't succeeded. The solo-statistic approach isn't interesting to them it seems. Perhaps the hero can try to be interesting for once?
“Really not my job, is it? Slay the dragon, save the princess, stomp down a rebellion of peasants. Those are the sort of thing a hero does.”
The last one is more likely to happen with communists than heroes, but the hero does have a point. If only he had the natural panache and self confidence as the narrator has.
“If you loved yourself even a tiny bit more, you'd end up having sex with your own mother.”
Hero has mixed up Oedipus and Narcissus. But it's best to blame the school-system rather than the individual.
“What school-system? We just had one of the older men in the tribe who didn't touch kids teach us about the world.”
And how did this person acquire his knowledge?
“He had a subscription to a weekly newspaper. Which mostly had articles about the downsides of race mixing and whether stars were a conspiracy from the moon. It's why none of the adults liked talking to the older man much.”
Hm, should have picked him to be the new hero. Gods would watch that.
The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
“What?”
Ow, euhm, nothing. My god, look over there?
“What?”
The hero bumped his toe on a sleeping old woman and has found his new magical teacher. What a lucky find.
“Actually, I think she's really dead this time. She doesn't have a pulse.”
Hero carefully pats the woman down and finds a book titled 101 ways to please your luck based magic system.
“Why is the word man scratched out and why are the words luck based magic system hurriedly written down in crayon below?”
Shows it's an extra lucky book. It adapted itself to suit the hero's needs.
“No, I'm fairly certain this is an intro into marital sex games to keep your relationship fresh and sparkling. Says so on the first page.”
The first page of the book magically catches on fire and guides the hero's reading finger unto the next page.
“Nope, still has further information on what type of pleasure you can give your man without saying a word.”
The second, third and... eugh fourth till twenty-fifth page magically catch on fire until the hero notices the article about a luck based attack.
“This just says to trust my pelvis at the first sign of danger.”
An H is magically added as well as a title at the top of the page that reads: the act of mating.
“Ah, so at the first sign of danger I thrust out my pelvis to initiate breeding sex with an enemy. I have a few questions and concerns.”
To mate, definition; the act of acquiring a friend/mate.
“Hmmmno, that doesn't sound right. It also raises a lot of other questions and concerns if I'm honest.”
Concerns and questions can be directed to our complaints department via our PO box. Expect an answer anywhere between four to six business months.
“Four months? How bloody slow do they work? Do they type like one letter a day and pat themselves on the back for a job well done?”
Only if they're paid for it. A good patting costs extra. Like in every good massage salon.
“Why do I feel that your entire business is only able to run through a soft form of slavery?”
Maybe hero experiences his time of the month? Maybe he's acquired another kink for racial issues?
“Dude, you're gonna get me into trouble with all this bullshit.”
Then the narrator suggests the hero to execute the luck based attack as practice. Sighing as if filled with a red sea of blood, the hero begins to thrust out his pelvis. He enjoys the fluent motion and lets his mind wander to all the times he found himself on one of the darker parts of the internet.
“The what now?”
Correction, the deeper parts of the internet. Where he can thrust his pelvis further and further into grand powers that will cover the deserts of this world in majestic white or depending on the hero's age, slightly more yellow for every decade above twenty.
“You're making this sound weird again.”
Keep thrusting, the hero's size is hampering his magic output.
“What's size got to do with it?”
As per regulation four dash twenty in the book of DRE, Size has a significant impact on all magical effect.
“What are you on about?”
A larger sized... fleshy endeavour allows for more mana storage and thus, grander spells.
“I take it the first heroes had to carry a wheelbarrow with them at all times?”
Two. Two wheelbarrows. And a connecting shaft for... well, the other shaft.
“I deeply regret asking that.”
The narrator can only agree. It's unhealthy for the hero to have this many sexual interests at his young age. Most heroes wait until they have a harem of at least fifty individuals before the weird stuff happens.
“Why fifty?”
It's tax deductible after fifty. Fornication becomes a person's job title if you have to keep fifty partners happy. The tax deductee grows thin with barely any fat left on their bones and a giant creepy smile on their faces that can't be removed. We tried.
“I can imagine why.”
Well, imagining is as far as things will go for this hero. So the narrator is happy that the hero has proficiency in it.
“Ok, quiet time now. Time for more pelvis thrusts or I'll never get this over with.”
The hero thrust his pelvis until late in the evening. He moved slowly towards the inn in a rhythmic fashion and it only took thirty five attempts to make the female innkeeper understand he wasn't a degenerate, this time at least.