Grandov's eyes were fixed upon the vivid streaks of red and yellow, spread across the the blue sky.
BOOM!
Another explosion followed, and a second colorful flower blossomed above the city's towering buildings.
"Ooooo! Look at that one!"
"It's so pretty!"
"It's daytime fireworks!"
Children's excited voices sounded as they marveled at the blooms born from each thunderous explosion.
Grandov, on the other hand, felt his entire body stiffen and every hair on his arms and legs standing on end.
Beyond the visual spectacle and the loud eruptions, a subtler, more insidious sound filled the air. It was reminiscent of a soda bottle opening and the sound of bubbles rising. The whole air sizzled with this sound. You could practically feel it.
To think I'd hear that sound ever again after all these years.
BlueLizard rarely thought about the past, it being so long ago and having too few good memories. However, the explosions above reminded her of the horrors she had seen so long ago with the Crimson Cataclysm.
Who in this realm managed to figure out how to create this monstrosity?
Grandov gazed about, observing the city's inhabitants, who stared skyward in wonder and awe, oblivious to the actual, ominous nature of what they were witnessing.
The Crimson Cataclysm was a human-made explosive device that earned its infamous reputation as a symbol of terror and brutality on the battlefield. It was engineered to cause unparalleled devastation. Upon detonation, it unleashed a wave of destruction, obliterating all life in its path. Then, beyond the initial explosion, the Crimson Cataclysm left a trail of long-lasting consequences. Toxic chemicals and radiation were often part of its deadly payload, leading to lingering environmental contamination and a heightened risk of long-term health issues for survivors. It was ultimately deemed a war crime to utilize due to the unprecedented destruction, mass casualties, and prolonged effects.
Its unique identifying characteristic was this strangle sizzling sound that filled the entirety of the air and its surroundings. The louder and clearer the sound, the closer you were to the worst of the destruction.
BOOM!
Grandov gazed up at a particularly large, deep blue bloom that grew over the entirety of the sky.
Or perhaps…. Is Player 0.4 the original inventor? That madman was never caught, after all. Maybe he hid by removing a part of his functionality.
Rumor had it that they had changed their name and hid away in some obscure realm. But those were merely rumors that other Players sometimes gossiped of in the various chat rooms when bored.
"Wow, this one smells just like peonies!" A young woman nearby inhaled the air.
"I liked the previous one, the one that smelled like jasmine," the woman beside her said.
"It's good that Ned left the capital; he'd have a complete mental breakdown with all these flower smells," a man chimed in. "He hasn't been the same after his last fight."
Grandov's nose scrunched up.
The explosions occurring overhead were clearly intended for their beauty and were part of the festival's entertainment.
However, if the fragrance were replaced with poison, the blooms made invisible, and the explosions masked, it would be just like that madman's weapon.
Grandov tossed away the half-eaten skewer in his hand, his appetite diminishing. He began walking through the lively streets but was stopped by a short man dressed in a white linen garb and an emblematic golden triangle on the front. The man wore a warm and inviting smile.
"Good man," the fellow greeted Grandov, "on a day this festive, I couldn't help but notice you look like someone ready to take control of their financial future. Have you perhaps heard of the Paragons of Rahosm Temple?"
"I haven't heard that name in a while…." Garndov muttered.
Grandov didn't know the finer details about the Paragons of Rahosm Temple but knew that it was a sham organization that was rather prominent in two of the Game rounds, with its annoying followers spreading the "good word of the Paragons of Rahosm Temple." However, apart from those two initial instances, it had disappeared into obscurity in other rounds. It was one of the many oddities that came about the longer Adovoria's Fall was played.
The man, taking Grandov's mutterance as an invitation to continue, began to speak enthusiastically, delivering a speech that bore the hallmarks of a typical get-rich-quick pitch.
"You can attend the temple's sermons daily or weekly," the man said. "Each secession will cost you but a small investment toward your future—And I assure you, it is tiny compared to the knowledge you gain from the sermons."
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
The man then spoke of boundless opportunities, vast wealth, and the potential for financial success beyond one's wildest dreams.
"And best of all, in the Paragons of Rahosm Temple," the fellow continued, "we believe in the power of community, where you can achieve prosperity by recruiting others to our cause. The more people you bring in, the more you earn, and when they bring in more followers, you'll also receive a commission for their contributions. It will more than cover your own attendance fees. We call it the Golden Triangle of Prosperity."
The man tapped the golden symbol on the front of his garb.
"It's a golden opportunity for you to enrich yourself and those you bring into our thriving community. Before you know it, you'll be living the life of your dreams!"
Grandov smiled and nodded in understanding. "So it's a pyramid scheme?"
Incredible. The organization wasn't even bothering to hide it, making it their very symbol.
"A… pyramid?" The man looked confused. By his expression, it was apparent that this realm had yet to experience multi-level marketing and the terminology that went along with it.
Someone must be cashing in big time.
"No, no, it's a triangle." The man pointed again to the symbol on his garb. "And I can give you a special deal today, just for considering it. If you sign up right now, you'll get a discount on the entry fee of your first sermon."
Grandov took in the man's appearance and realized that apart from him, the street was littered with others dressed just like this man, talking in excited voices to other festivalgoers.
"How many are there in Paragons of Rahosm Temple?" Grandov asked. In all the rounds he had gone through, he had never seen so many of this organization's followers littered across the streets of Genise.
"In total? It's in the thousands, with members of the Paragons of Rahosm Temple spread all across the continent. And our followers are growing rapidly. Now's the time to join! I shouldn't be mentioning this, but…" The man leaned toward him and stood on his tippy-toes to speak into Grandov's ear. "You see… our Saint has awakened. And with his awakening, his holiness has bestowed upon us with knowledge of great wealth."
Grandov's ears perked up at this.
Perhaps this so-called Saint is the other Player?
It explained how a concept such as a classic pyramid scheme could appear in this realm.
Then again, the temple had grown in prominence in two of the rounds of Adovoria's Fall as well.
Grandov massaged his beard, which he hadn't had a chance to shave off yet. He didn't know if it was a similar scheme on the previous game rounds, but it was possible.
The odd part is that it's growing in prominence now. Years earlier.
"We're not interested," a deep voice sounded nearby, and a punk with faded pink hair, who was scrawnier than his voice had suggested, pushed away from another Rahosm Temple member who had stopped him.
He pulled along with him a taller young lady who had on one of the classic yellow sun festival masks.
"Kathy, I know you've already racked up a new debt, as is. Don't fall for these obvious schemes, too," he scolded her.
The young woman protested, and the pair disappeared into the crowds.
Kleave the Kid. He certainly looks better alive.
Grandov recognized the young man immediately; Kleave was the bad influence on Luca of the future. The day the Game started, Kleave was hanging in the plaza, his body dangling on a noose. And Luca was drinking away his sorrows in a bar in one of the more notorious parts of East Genise.
Grandov looked around the buildings.
Now that I think about it, that bar wasn't all that far from here.
The buildings and roads of East Genise were ever-changing. Still, having gone through so many rounds, Grandov had gained an uncanny ability to detect where he was, even without a map.
However, he wasn't so stupid as to not use one.
He motioned with his fingers, and a map of East Genise appeared, zooming in on the area that Grandov was in currently. He might have done away with forty percent of his functions, but he most certainly wasn't going to get rid of the map.
Funny. It's just a few blocks from here.
"I have to pass for now. Thanks for sharing, though," Grandov sidestepped the temple's follower and followed the map's directions.
"Well, okay then. If you change your mind, you know where to find me. Good luck with your financial future!" the man called out from behind him.
Grandov weaved through a labyrinth of dark alleyways, winding his way through haphazardly constructed buildings until he came into a clearing void of festival decorations. However, the distant explosions overhead and lingering scents of the festival still permeated the air.
In this unassuming corner of the city stood the equally unassuming bar. A sign above its entrance, poorly painted and somewhat ironic, bore the words "The Royal Bar." Instead of offering a view of the outside world, the windows were fortified with moldy wooden planks, and the front door bore the scars of having been kicked out a couple of times.
Grandov couldn't help but muse at the state of the place.
It looks in much better shape than a couple of years from now.
With a determined push, he swung open the creaking door and stepped inside the dimly lit bar. He didn't come here merely on nostalgia. Nor any expectation of meeting Luca, as he had in the last round of Adovoria's Fall. Instead, it was for information.
SMASH!
Just as he entered, a broken bottle flew past his nose and embedded itself in one of the bar's walls. Luckily, his reflexes had taken over, and he flung his head back just in time.
He smiled.
This place still has its usual charm.
On a day as sunny and cloudless as the one outside, and the System being relatively mum about the oddities he had come across thus far, The Royal Bar was his third-best way to gather intelligence about the realm's current state and the new peculiarities that abounded within it.
"Bartender, a bottle of beer, please," he said and sat at the counter, ignoring the loud squabble taking place to his left, as did the other dozen patrons inside.
He slid over several golden coins, far too much for a mere beer. "And Horatio, could I spare your ear for a moment, too?"
Horatio, the hunch-backed man behind the counter, smiled and produced a glass bottle of beer before Grandov.
"Sure-sure, what can I do for ya, young man?" Horatio asked and pocketed the coin. He had a tinge of an accent, typical with the refugees from one of the fallen nations on the continent's eastern coast.
"The Ashford Bakery." Grandov tipped the beer into his mouth. "Any word on who has been buying up an unusually high amount of bread as of late?" he asked.
There was no need to guess who Player 0.4 was when there was a bright red trail toward their identity. With the amount of Ashford Bakery goods sold in the Game Store, whoever it was was either working for the bakery, stealing from the bakery, or buying from it. And Grandov suspected it was likely the third.
However, to Grandov's surprise, Horatio's smile withered away, and his blue eyes glanced at the lone other patron seated at the counter.
"My, my, my…. Back from the Celestial Mountain Range, and first you do is ask about the comings and goings of bread." A chubby young woman with curly golden hair and long purple nails turned toward Grandov. Her eyes twinkled in amusement. "Aren't you a curious one?"