Brightly coloured bushes and the all too common sight of giant trees superseding the sky whizzed past him as our hero did a runner, cursing every now and then. His vocabulary was not up to par, much to his displeasure. There were only that many swear words he knew.
Little luck in the great sea of misfortune was all Linlin got when scurrying into that man-eating village, an ugly grimace of ridiculous miscalculation bearing its crooked teeth at him–––driving him crazy were that still an option.
Yet he'd suspected such already! The events that followed his arrival made it clear: This was no plan worth pursuing, after all! However, it was also the next best thing besides washing his hands off the task entirely and possibly hoping for the best.
The former was an extension of useless daydreaming, the latter of taking matters into his own hands. Luckily, these hazardous times were over. The man had had his fair share of scampering two-faced, sadistic snakes going all out to grope him.
This was probably what those in the brothel had to deal with daily... Somehow, Linlin could relate to them as of late. Yet... what lasting trauma he sustained!
So it came as no surprise, no matter in which language Pansy ranted, Linlin had understandably dialled down on their connection as much as possible, letting him fume all he wanted as he ran south like the wind.
‘Hey, scaredy-cat, would you have the goodness in you to provide lunch? Anything, really, as long as it passes for a magical lifeform–––this Lord ain’t picky!' Pansy soon believed himself mistreated to a shocking degree.
'Suck on Cores if you must. Stuuuupiiiiidddd~ I'm~ huuuuuuuunnnnggggrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrryyyyyyyyyyyyyy~!!!’
However, every now and then, the bugger in question successfully circumvented the blockade–––with it remaining a mystery as to how he did that. ‘…leading me to conclude that a little risk accompanies…’ Sometimes it even seemed as if there were two Pansys talking contemporaneously.
Nevertheless, Linlin had long since learned how to best ignore what would otherwise provide a detailed manual as to how to descend into madness. He merely snarled unhappily and that was it.
As the race against himself continued, Linlin occasionally grabbed the sorry shreds that were once his pretty-hole-less trousers and tucked them into place only to see them floating in the wind the next instance.
The man decisively tore the shreds off as he didn’t want to stumble and unluckily break his neck at the next stump after all. What a shame that would be! ‘Stupid, you idiot. I’m talking to you~!’
His alter ego might not have found out about his desperate attempt at recreating something akin to privacy, or maybe he did, yet couldn’t care less. Anyhow, there was a storm slowly brewing in their mind, one our hero ignored in favour of his desperate activity.
When Linlin hopped not from branch to branch, he meandered through tall undergrowth, taking root high up the trees, shimmied down vines or climbed up a trunk to lofty heights.
This section of the forest seemed too worm-infested to consider trekking on the ground. Train-sized sandworms in a forest... this world was surely crazy! Plus, this way, Linlin exercised more and had a greater chance of forgetting civilised horrors.
Our hero was aware of this insanity of his, yet although indulging in highly questionable activities, it was forever better than letting slow Pansy take physical charge while he felt like the saddest third wheel of all time.
Doubly so, since this time around it was particularly bad, for the poor third wheel in question had not only been forced to hand over control for far too long for his taste, but he also had to watch on in utter helplessness as his body was getting beaten up and painted in bruises at the hands of vicious suckers–––suckers with tails yet tailless still.
All the while, he was literally spitting venom and fire yet could change nothing. Paranoia and haphephobia only made matters worse. Even Linlin's pride took a dent by being left alone with a group of visitors snickering around his cage as if he was a rare attraction in a zoo!
That’s why for the sake of his little leftover sanity, these overflowing, negative emotions simply had to be washed away and purged as fast as possible. Which was exactly why he’d chosen pointless physical exercise: To overcome his circular thought process.
‘C’mon, dude. Check out our 2 new skills. You didn’t even fully look at the first one,’ yet Pansy wasn’t inclined to easily give up either. Like a maggot wiggling as happily as a sandboy in rotten flesh, he too worked his way under Linlin’s thick skin till he’d ultimately succeeded in royally ticking him off.
‘Shut up! I did take note! One’s a useless addition, the other spells damn trouble if Azariah is to take it the wrong way.’ ‘See, still capable of a bristly flare or two.’ 'Asshole!'
In theory, being awarded new skills sounded great and all, but practice had torn Linlin's romantic dreams of a powerhouse to shreds and given him an inkling of what to expect from this double-edged sword going by the fancy name of [Gluttony].
‘The gall, there’s a countdown up and running! And all you do is grate on my nerves.’ Our hero couldn’t help but flare up again. The reason being some hard-to-miss, constant reminder every odd hour from the oh-so-lovely synthetic voice of the System.
( う-´)づ︻╦̵̵̿╤── \(˚☐˚”)/ Integrity -0.4 (Overcapacity Low-Level)
Of his four skills, the second and most cryptic of all–––[ᚱᚨᚷᚾᚨᚱᛟᛖᚲ]–––still made no sense. All that did was the sole number now in a steady descent, a starting point to enable shaping his justified fears.
‘...must you always regard everything with negativity? Maybe it’s not bad at all.' Pansy didn't fully believe his words either. 'And I told you not to consume too many Cores! See, it might have a negative impact on us. Aaaaand:
We somehow levelled up our state of existence. We're now considered a Shitty Brat! The irony...’ ‘Snort!’ It was such an old hat that Linlin disdained to pick it up again.
Linlin kept running further until he eventually came to a halt near a triple twisted wooden knot he promptly made use of as a seat, his smoking feet angrily kicking the empty air in a quest to get rid of excess heat and cool down. ‘...that’s far enough, isn’t it?’
‘And who am I to ask? Distances aside, precious little makes sense.’ Linlin sighed, his head nodding in approval for once. Just the thought of certain torment disguised as hospitality was putting him in a bad mood even now...
It was worse than Pansy's incessant, endless banter or the uselessness of their new skills! ...seemed like our hero's circular thought process was not jet overcome.
Anyway, a lot of things really didn’t add up, just as Pansy mentioned. What should’ve been if not enjoyable then at least relaxing, turned out to be a trip to hell and back. From there on, it had become clear to both personalities they were no longer in their element, and their questionable common sense was worth a fart.
Pansy, in particular, was now even grumpier as he'd realised that logic was a foreign concept to forest dwellers and possibly also the rest of this strange world's unknown inhabitants.
‘Those crazy bitches,’ Linlin felt comfortably tired out thanks to his workout. But his mental sanity was obviously not as easy to appease.
The ordeal's psychological strain refused to diffuse no matter what, so did his circular thought process. He came back to the events time and time again as if drawn in by a magnet.
And this came from a person especially lacking in the emotional department, so others in our hero's shoes might've very well broken down entirely by now. ‘Hmm… among other observations, I can basically confirm a day here has around twice as many hours than we are used to.
It’s tiring as fuck!’ Pansy’s plan E had been perfectly executed. Yet theory and practice begged to differ. From the moment he had fainted from the double skill acquisition... a squeaky lamia–––one of the kind oblivious to male anatomy to boot–––sent him on a journey to the sacred matriarchal land of wasted male pride.
It was not enough that his arms and legs were pulled like one would chewing gum, the joints too got twisted at insane angles and several layers of skin were lost to a hellish grater-like sponge! Might've felt comfortable on scales, but tender skin begged to differ...
Yet there was worse: His little Jonny had been pulled like a worm stuck in the rocky earth by a hungry bird's brutalising beak until it became the angry hose pipe poking through his trousers that no longer felt like a part of him. Not to forget the visitors…
And all of that happened while that three times cursed snake had dissected every inch of his body with her dangerously flickering eyes. Yet the chick waiting for him at the end of a very long line had been worse by far. Still, it was her who eventually released Linlin.
‘Dunno if that’s considered normal, but if every male’s treated the same as us, this race’s famed abductions of the opposite sex are but understandable. So is the orcs’ trepidation. No matter how sturdy, that one is no chewing gum!’ Little Jonny was hurting, little Jonny was crying!!! Linlin... was livid.
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‘Shit, why did you do that! Don’t remind me again of that vicious chick!’ Linlin’s fine hairs all stood up without him noticing as his fingers traced down the countless marks he visibly bore on his tender skin.
Admittedly, our hero looked the part of a pitiful wretch. A tuft of dishevelled hair the colour of an overused public toilet looked in no way his original whitish-grey stubborn fuzz, as did not the ruined clothes hanging from his body in streaky shreds and–––the real reason for all this gloom–––the far too many major bruises all over his body.
Why was he always destined to lose layers upon layers of skin? Did mistreating him do the forest dwellers any good? The so-called tail-hugs spoken of in novels... practise for but the masochists! Aah, if only he could get his hands on that wretched creature!
As Linlin brooded over his grudge, Pansy cracked a merry imitation of laughter. ‘Enough moping, Stupid. We certainly won’t forget this pleasure anytime soon. It will have a sugar-sweet aftermath–––if they survive what's in store for them, that is!’
It sounded as forebodingly devious as devious could be, yet for Linlin it came close to a heavenly tune if he’d ever heard one. ‘…come to think of it, you scare me you know. Why the break?
Our feet are eternally grateful for sure, but your–––kindness, I believe it’s called?–––kinda freaks me out...’ Our hero caught himself red-handed trying to scratch wildly at the tingling marks and was just in time to stop himself from doing something that would only lead to further suffering.
To not risk it again, he promptly started rolling a cigar from random leaves while impatiently waiting for Pansy’s long overdue explanation. ‘We’re halfway there, just a tiny bit more!’ ‘Huh?’ Linlin froze in his tracks, fearing the worst.
While he certainly knew the ins and outs of the plan, there was a part Pansy was obscuring even now. While Linlin didn't want to read too much into it, such practice had turned out to be the wrong call.
‘Think ‘bout it. The orcs know ‘bout the upcoming human invasion, but they may or may not underestimate them. Thanks to our intervention, the same goes for the lamias too.’ ‘Your point?’
‘Long story short, either all orcs die, or many lamias and most orcs kick the bucket, or all humans and many others go west. Regardless of the outcome, dead bodies are going to be abundant and Azariah gets a nice gift for amendment.’
‘That's all well and good. But the stele thingy?’ Linlin heard what sounded suspiciously like a hopeless sigh of an educated man knowing he either explained things for the goosy or wasn't understood at all. Not that Linlin cared, though.
‘Decimation means less riffraff, better cards up our sleeves and a bunch of viable options to choose from. Even if we need to alter the plan according to circumstances, it can be done easier by following the next step. Misleading humans to do our bidding is our ticket to success.
It’s not my fault both tribes built their villages near our targets and are now left to suffer...’ ‘In other words, we’re done here.’ ‘Hell no, you deaf? I said half done.’ Now it was Linlin’s turn to sigh in defeat, for he hoped he'd merely imagined things.
Our hero third-guessed all the decisions that had led to this situation, having had already plentiful time to second-guess at the village.
It wasn’t a secret that he was against risky endeavours, and the more he kept thinking about past experiences and what could have gone totally wrong–––in terms worthy of the musclehead he was, obviously–––the bloodier got his lip.
Talk about the generals’ incompetency… Considering he wasn’t one easily falling prey to nervousness, his state of mind had to be in one hell of a mess for this to happen.
Hence the reason for lighting two cigars and stuffing them both in his bloodied mouth to give his teeth the desired distraction. “Shite,” he growled after a few more puffs. “Horseshite!” 'The cig's bad?' 'You're bad. Worse than bad!'
‘A little more enthusiasm, please, pretty please? Coming up with this wasn’t easy, you know. There are just too many things to consider and lack of information is abundant to the point I wouldn’t be surprised if the humans turn out to be goblins in disguise and this isn’t an invasion but revenge from past matters–––just to give an example.
Well, I must let it slide this time. Our next destination’s called Camp Double-Faced Bipeds~. Seriously, it has been fairly obvious we’re headed there–––how simple can your thoughts be...’
Crack! Luckily for him, Pansy lacked physical form. Otherwise, he would’ve been sent flying just like the crushed remains of a certain half-rolled cigar. ‘Out of your fucking mind?! Why not climb up further and jump down this tall tree?
It’s by far less painful and above all faster than what humans’ wicked minds concoct!’ Pansy wasn’t surprised at all at his comrade-in-thoughts sudden outburst, for he too had his considerations.
‘...chill, mate. Believe me, I’m not friggin’ happy either, but there are two good reasons that increase our chances.’ ‘You and your unreasonable reasons. Was there ever a time you didn’t have them?
Better be damn coated in honey and laced with gold. Otherwise, no ten Azariahs will get me anywhere near The Plague.’ ‘Now you sound just like that orc.’ ‘Which should make you consider. We’re weak pussies, Pansy.
Darned weak. You are too slow on the uptake. I highly doubt they've brought coffins along for a nameless wanderer.’ Linlin stared at the sad remnants of crumbled leaves supposed to end up as a pacifier, before getting rid of the dredges and another pair of scrunched cigars in his mouth.
‘I knew you'd react like this. Okay, Stupid. Listen: On the one hand, reinforcements–––if they come–––advance slower than we do, delay or not. Now, I shouldn’t have to state the obvious, but nobody knows what dirty game we’re playing, which means more time for us to prepare under the protection of concealment.
On the other, I’ve confidence in my manipulation skills. Humans are what we’re most familiar with, and even in the case of a mistake, we still have insurance–––the knives.’ ‘Knives?’ ‘Yes, remember the little enchantment Azariah told us about?
That should pique people’s interests and boost my story’s credibility. It's like a cue.’ ‘It's no cue. It's official. You went bonkers.’ As soon as Linlin understood the gravity of this mad proposal, he knew not where to even start criticising, for there were too many issues to account for.
‘And the next threat gets my fart to the nose, chances are it does fall over, death.’ ‘Chances are, they’ll take care of our annoying time bomb. What’d they have to gain by killing us, we–’ ‘Stop.
For Pete’s sake, Pansy, your point’s moot if there’s nobody Pansy-like in charge over there. Have you forgotten the absurd number of generals getting their ranks due to connections?
Why should it be any different here?! And if it were me, your plan would fail. I don’t cook up useless thoughts.’ ‘...no idiot leads an army, that’d be suicide. And nepotism–’ ‘Pansy!’ Our hero did not quite register the veiled insult, nor did he care.
Linlin growled annoyedly, as his advice fell on deaf ears like the many before did when there was no consent. ‘Orcs and lamias are fine, we had no inkling about their wickedness earlier. I get your reason. They are entirely new races, so we can and must be forgiven.
But! Humans are what we feared most on Earth. We had many shady dealings ongoing: Duress, blackmail, kidnapping, threats, extortion–––you name it! We should know perfectly by now what to expect from guys like us. We've seen it all.’ ‘...might think of it as a teeny-weeny additional risk?’
‘…the day you take my advice marks my very personal holiday.’ Linlin sighed as he knew there was nothing else he could use to turn the proverbial tables. Pansy was just that convinced to tempt fate and he didn't want to wade into murky waters.
It was forever better for his sanity if others told him what, when, how to do, and if the need exists why. He simply wasn't meant to be a think-tank. ‘Just keep in mind: Your choice, our neck!’ ‘...got it.’
It remained to be seen if humans really outwitted the other races, just as Pansy assumed. Was it safe to bank upon the duo's familiarity with their people? Neither of the two was convinced in any way.
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It became silent for the rest of Linlin’s due break. The agent continued mindlessly puffing on a new cigar as his body rested. Pansy was too busy computing impossibly convoluted probability calculations to transform them into hard facts just to convince himself of the plan’s feasibility.
Time passed just like that, and it’d have continued for longer, were it not for an unexpected interruption–––a familiar voice resounding in their mind out of nowhere. “Cunning warrior, questionable schemer... well played.
Truly, well played.” Linlin froze in place, no single twitching muscle willing to submit to his frantic commands. They recognised the trespasser. Both did.
One with a far more powerful presence than Stupid and Pansy added together–––even as only a mere sliver of consciousness resuming the conversation from afar.
“Indeed, time’s come... I understand... old roots shan’t shackle youngsters.” The ancient orc’s confusing words made no sense yet little did they care. The only thing that mattered was that he could kill them soundlessly at any given time if he just exerted a bit more power.
Their unprotected mind was just that fragile. “Destiny decrees, the clever submit... Your devilish plans, I cannot approve. Though, be my guest–––I shan’t interfere. However... once the coming trial ends, take good care of my children.
That’s all an old man has left that matters. My one and only treasure.” The voice paused, seemingly recollecting a wide variety of fuzzy memories–––shards of it that they both got to see due to their forced connection–––before the orc continued, his tone heavy.
“Reward awaits you in return, close by the western… stele, you call it? Just… take care of my loved ones, my family... please.” The last sentence was no more than a weak whisper, a parting gift accompanied by a certain picture of a still landscape before the powerful presence vanished like smoke as abrupt as it came.
Though softly spoken, this one last cryptic word echoed in their mind for a while. An emotional bomb, they recognised, one filled with feelings hard to guess for the likes of them.
Grief and happiness, contentment, unwillingness, and myriad more emotions impossible to decipher, let alone understand. By recognising four out of this seemingly endless plethora of emotional daggers left behind in their mind to dissipate on their own, a small miracle had already happened.
‘Stupid, there went our choice. Though I still believe we never had one, to begin with. We need to tweak some details for sure, but that's up to me. In the meantime... better get going!’ Pansy’s light words echoed after what felt like an awful eternity.
Despite trying to make light of the situation, the shock of what others could do to them still had to subside. Linlin nodded ever so slowly, his apathetic face as expressionless as always.
Within this virgin forest, our hero suddenly felt like everything eyed them with abhorrence and suspicion. And if only one random thought desired them dead, there was nothing both could do against it.
Such was reality–––a play directed by their innermost fears. The agent soon hit the non-existent road, leaving behind some crushed leaves and an odour similar to rotten socks and rancid sweat that was to disperse only the next windy day.
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End of Part V