“And that is how you murder these slimes.”
“Ooooh!” The young Asian medical student was suitably impressed with my knowledge. He wouldn’t question anything else and go along with me. I had mentally named him Emergency Murder. Just in case. It was dark, but that was his name when I wanted to be very edgy, so it was fine. I thought about changing my name to Dark Michael Murders. Since just having Murders as my last name wasn’t edgy enough. Got to spice things up. That could be like my title or something.
We continued through the forest. I got quite a pile of crystals. Those would be quite useful to buy new things, since my murder club was getting worn down. I just tossed it away. Littering was the best. I littered all the time. Oh, that reminded me about the foreshadowing I had done in the first chapter.
I went behind a tree and dropped my pants. I then bent over and let out a grunt. “Urrrrg.” I made it sound intense and manly. Since taking a shit in the woods was the most manly and giga-chad thing one could do. It was like marking one’s territory.
That was why I liked to just shit on random people’s property. It was one of my favorite activities after murder and the best way to inform everyone else of my giga-chad nature. It was important to remind people constantly in case they forget, since readers were stupid and like goldfish. Unable to retain anything for longer than two seconds. See my vast knowledge I had to Google, this just proved how smart I am compared to everyone else and how wrong they are.
Well, the shit was coming. It was just taking a long time to get out. It was excessive chapters; I mean constipation, holding me up from getting to the shit. “Urrrg!”
It was really backed up in there and had a long way to get out. Finally, it came out. And that was that. I had asserted my domination over the forest.
I nodded in satisfaction and pulled up my pants. I swaggered triumphantly back to my team, and we set off for the city. I was 20 lbs lighter now that I had gotten that shit out. About 9 kg, since I needed to appeal to as many people as possible. That was why I had to give both English and Metric, even though no one else thought this way. That was just another thing giga-chads did.
“Are you okay? That sounded difficult?” the young Asian medical student asked.
“Of course. With all the shit stuffed inside of me, I can easily squeeze one out.” I patted my obese belly to make a non-verbal point and to showcase my uniqueness through the power of morbid obesity.
We got back to the city just as it was getting dark. The day adjusted itself to my timeframe. Not the other way around. I wasn’t lying when I said everything revolved around my titanic ego. Finding an empty building to sleep in was easy. There was no one else around.
Despite being morbidly obese, I kept watch through the night and only sleeping at the precise moments where there would be no danger to me. It was my intuitive gamer knowledge coming through. Like a fountain of knowledge, it was the gift that kept on giving.
It was Day 1 or 2 when it was light again; I wasn’t sure. Some other person could keep track of that kind of stuff. I had murders to do and a spare club. We made our way back out into the forest. This time running into an older gentleman.
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“Hello, I am a bit racist, but you can call me Karl Knight Knellburg,” he said. It was not a good a name as Michael Murders, but that was just the nature of the universe. Other people weren’t as blessed as I was.
“Oh, that is great. You already came with a backstory and a name like that so we can hate on you a bit to make me more appealing,” I said. It was important to clarify that I was speaking so other people didn’t think they could become the giga-chad of this story, I mean adventure, I mean murder mystery.
“No problem, I am just here to showcase how amazing you are.” I nodded at Karl. He already knew his place on my team, making me look good. We went out into the forest for some more slime murder and to get those delicious crystals, I mean currency.
After a hard day of work which we can completely skip since it is boring, we made our way back to the city. I needed more murder implements. So, we made our way back to the plaza and the wonderful merchant that helped me out the first time.
It got dark, so like a reverse vampire, I hid inside a building to rest up. My two teammates talked about themselves to build up reader investment into their characters. After a night of sleep, I was ready to go again in the morning. But my giga-chadness was clashing with my obesity and I felt sore. Hopefully that merchant had something.
We got to the plaza, and I went up to him. “Why hello there my best customer!” he greeted me like all service people should. Like I was their Lord, and they were my serf. Lord gets capitalized here to show how important I am in case you missed that.
“Why hello there dealer of fine wares here in this plaza.” I greeted him back and moved my body around to hint to him what I needed to purchase.
“I have just the thing for you from Marvel’s Miracles. A magic potion. But it costs five crystals.” My eyes went wide at that.
“Five crystals! That is capitalist you communist dog! Respect my authority.” I wiggled my body around but he seemed to be immune to my giga-chad-chan charms even while I gave insightful political commentary. Truly impressive and a man of culture. He had my respect. I pulled out my baggy of crystals and carefully put five of the smaller ones on the counter.
He might be a man of culture, but I had to carefully count all those crystals. Had to demonstrate my giga-brains with my mental math power. Even though I had a calculator, I mean intuition to do it all correctly.
“One magic potion,” the store clerk of Chad’s Consortium said and handed over the potion. I eyed it and made observations about its nature that were insightful. You will just have to trust me. They were very insightful. I drank the potion and my obesity turned from a hassle to an interesting plot point just like that. It was like magic or actual magic. I would poll the people about cats to make sure I was on track with my descriptions.
“Well, that looked like it worked, I guess I am not needed,” the Asian medical student said. I shook my head, using my mastery of non-verbal communication to reassure him.
“I suspect you want to do some more murders. We have lots of things to help you murder,” the shopkeeper of Death’s Depot told me.
“Why, yes. You knew exactly what I wanted. Some more murder tools.”
“Right away good customer. Two clubs like last time and more magic potions. They will make you better at murder.” He took a deep breath before continuing at quick and clipped pace. I could barely pick up anything he said.
“All sales are non-refundable, limited transactions. This store and its affiliates accept no liability. You have been warned. Side effects include: annoyance, frustration, criticisms, excessive constipation, anger, rage, insightful commentary, store bans, wasted time, and possible deletion. That warning should be more than enough to keep you away from our amazing potions that everyone talks about if there are side effects which you should completely ignore and not talk to anyone about. Which is a warning in itself and another disclaimer of liability or any form of responsible ownership.”
I didn’t pay attention to any of that. Too long, didn’t read, I mean listen.