Dust dances in the dim light above the corpses of once ferocious beasts. They pile on and on as swords clash with teeth and claws in graceful arcs. Back to back, two knightly figures in synchronized movement slay the monsters, with no more than a single strike each, and yet find no end to this battle. Their two white names stand out like clams in a sea of red text pouncing in waves.

A tall man with blonde flowing hair swivels on his toes to pierce a beast, halting its claws an inch away from his comrade’s face. The glare from his blues eyes that sparkling like jewels petrify the monsters before him with fear. The polite voice that booms from his square jaw cannot hide his displeasure.

“Sir Fynlo, if we tussle with this swarm of flies for any longer I fear they might tarnish my perfect cloak and your perfect face.”

Fynlo, a knight with flaming red hair, takes out five abominations in less than two seconds with his impressive footwork and swordsmanship. His green eyes scan for movement among the beasts.

“Your Highness, please take the civilian to a safe distance. I can end this one strike.”

“This one? How uncouth…”

The royalty’s gaze reluctantly falls upon Rando’s avatar fallen on the floor like a statue fixed on a single pose and a stupid expression frozen on his face.

“Petrified in fear, I see. That being said, I shall not soil my hands touching this half-naked boor. Hear me. Can you rise on your own?”

He kicks Rando with the metal tip of his boot, hoping to snap him awake.

“Oh! Ok… uhh… gimme a sec,” Neither Rando’s body nor his lips move as he speaks. Then, wearing his headset, his avatar returns to life and springs to his feet like a jack-in-the-box. “Woohoo! So this was a beginner’s event! Of course the hero of this story can’t die so soon. Nora, you were worried about nothing.”

The royalty, already unnerved at Rando’s presence, rubs his forehead. Sensing his brief distraction, two large insects-monsters zip towards them, one aiming its sting at Rando. A jeweled royal sword, glittering in the low ambient light, cuts down both monsters in one slash.

“You can meet your wife later,” he commands Rando, who grins sideways to the sky but something sharp pokes the ribs of his physical body, as if to threaten him to shut up. “For now, kindly step as far away as possible from that bold knight right there.”

Rando salutes and hides behind a pillar. Before the monsters split in two groups, one to chase after the two, Fynlo holds his two-handed blade up to his forehead with each eye peering past one edge.

“Provocation.”

An electric aura envelopes him. As if by some magnetic force, metals and stone orbit around him in mid-air, and then, with a single gesture, shoot across all he discerns as foe. Those homing stones knock every monster in the room off balance and imbuing them with a mystic red force. Now they feel nothing but rage, and see nothing but a knight with flaming red hair.

All monsters present pounce on him at once.

“Storm Blade.”

A sudden thunderclap almost deafens Rando and a gust of wind knocks his feet off the ground. In a blink of an eye, he witnesses Fynlo’s most incomprehensible movement; his figure disappears and re-appears in the same location but in a different pose. Multiple after-images also flicker like glowing fireflies, followed by bolts of lightning that streak across the room and smite all beasts, who feel nothing even though their bodies fall to pieces, sliced and charred, bones and all. Blood spurts across the walls all at once, and yet not a single drop stains the bright clothing of the knight who caused this. He scans the room for any surviving beast, but his sword’s electric glow fades to silence, and he hears nothing but death.

Rando whistles. “Incredible… Just like anime!”

The royalty beams with pride. “He is my Tempestas Gladio, after all.”

Fynlo smiles at this compliment. But before he can sheathe his sword, the metal blade shatters like glass. Its fragments fall to the ground and its edges show signs of melting.

“…And an insouciant one at that,” he continues but without losing the politeness of his tone. “Sir Fynlo, replacing your swords alone cost the empire a fortune every year. You’ve become a nightmare to even our finest blacksmiths, who would otherwise have never refused the patronage.”

“Apologies, your Highness…”

“Now, now, don’t look so dispirited. Duty needs no apology. All I ask is for you to hold back your strength once in a–”

A periodic quake, increasing in intensity underneath their feet, interrupts him.

“Ah, it’s the big guy,” Rando’s watches with glee, curious how these seemingly omnipotent NPCs handle this.

“Big guy, huh?” The royalty eyes the door across the gate, clutching his gemmed blade. “I’ll cut him down to size then.”

As the gargantuous silhouette appears from the passage its frame barely staggers upon bursting through the stone arches before it. The sunlight from the gate bouncing off the walls faintly illuminate the features of this monster. Its buzzsaw teeth and bladed elbows cut down all obstacles in its path, while its array of charcoal eyes in its tentacles that wrap around its torso stare at the three men below.

The scaly feet leave more ruin than the rest of its body. The giant raises one foot right above the royalty who calmly walks into its shadow with his sword. Without warning, the foot slams to the ground, crushing him like a cockroach.

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

Then, that very foot tears in half like a fabric cut by scissors. The fissure travels across the entire leg, and then the entire body, rupturing every blood vessel and slicing every flesh and bone in its path until it reaches the skull and splits it like a watermelon. The two parts of the body fall on each side. Parts of the tentacles, along with the blood, rain upon an illuminated sphere below where the creature’s foot used to be, but are quickly repelled by its force.

Inside this force-field, the slayer of this monster turns to Rando with a curious look in his eyes.

“Now then, I believe some introductions are in order.”

—————

Rando swigs the potion given to him by the generous red-haired knight. Yet, his occupied lips do not stop him from monologuing aloud.

“That was a hell of an opening! But I’ve seen this trope a thousand times before. Hero awakens, hero is in danger, hero is saved by a handsome rival who shows off his power, and now the hero must strive to become just as strong. But hey, why fix what isn’t broken?”

The royalty sighs. “He stands naked and muttering. He has neither respect for our presence nor gratitude for our benevolence. If this were the Empire, he’d be executed.”

“The Empire?” Nora whispers to herself, sitting close enough for Rando to hear.

Rando, however, latches on to something else entirely.

“Now this seems different from the emoji-kid,” he walks around Fynlo, back and forth, hiding behind pillars, then under the knight’s own armpit, which understandably unnerves him, “Ahah! Their eyes follow me everywhere.” He plucks at Fynlo’s nose and then his cheek, “Realistic features…” He fakes an eye-jab at Fynlo, halting in the last moment, just to see him flinch. “Realistic reactions too.”

Fynlo, now at his limits, punches Rando in the gut. The force leaves him folded like a paper-crane and his rejuvenated Health Points drops to half again. Yet, he feels nothing. His childlike glee remains plastered on his face. Nora gasps.

“I am going to kill you before they do!” She hisses.

“Hey, chill! Aren’t you curious? I got no dialogue choices, but they still pick up on my specific actions.”

“And specific actions deserve specific penalties,” the royalty glares patiently, “especially for being disrespectful to a Paladin. Now, would you tell us who you are and what you are doing here, or do you prefer becoming a slave for this insolence?”

“See?” Rando chuckles. “How did Rancor Dev achieve this?”

“Rancor…?”

“Hey!” Nora whispers to Rando. “Take this seriously.”

Fynlo clears his throat and joins his lord by his side.

“Stranger, you must not know in whose presence you stand, for you ignore him at your own peril. His Highness, Sansum, is the Fourth Prince of the Empire of Dawn and the Slayer of Demon Centurion Nequam.”

“Demon Centurion Neko what?” Rando asks. “Who dat?”

“One of the Dark Lord’s Demon Centurions, of course,” Sansum explains the obvious.

“Sounds like a big deal,” Rando ponders.

“Not anymore, as I’ve killed him.”

While Rando enjoys probing the NPCs to the limits of their wits through his pointless persiflage, Nora scratches her head at what was just said.

“Empire of Dawn?” She whispers in befuddlement. “Did that exist when Sean was playing? First La Komenco and now this… Are we even playing the same game?”

“Anyway,” Sansum cuts Rando’s derailment short to bring them back to the conversation. “This is my most trusted Paladin, Sir Fynlo.”

“Sir Fynlo what?” Rando asks, once again trying to play with their responses.

“Just Fynlo,” says the red-haired Paladin. “But what about you? What is your name?”

Rando tilts his head sideways, bewildered at game not recognizing his submitted name. This stands in stark contrast with the emoji-kid who knew of it. He wonders if this omission is part of the script, written for immersion. But it also makes him wonder who or what the kid from before was in the first place.

“Stranger, I am asking who you are,” Fynlo repeats himself.

“Just a rando,” Rando smiles.

“What tribe is this rando?” Sansum inquires.

Rando merely says, “Rando is rando.”

Sansum rubs his head. “Dear Goddess, this buffoon’s words ache my head. Can you at least tell us why you are without your breeches? Is this part of your tribe’s culture?”

“Oh, that. Uh…”

Rando looks to his waist-down, then around him. He indeed wore not even knickers underneath, and the beasts gleefully ripped and stole the only article of clothing afforded to him in the beginning. With no choice but to explain himself, he states:

“Let’s just say I’m glad to see you.”

His appendage grows erect, leaving Fynlo and Sansum to stare perplexed.

“Rando, I shall say this once,” Fynlo commands, angrily. “Sheathe your sword before His Highness, or I will ascertain you have none.”

Rando understands what Fynlo means, but pretends to miss the point by glancing to the sword he holds in his right hand, and then to the knight.

“Can I borrow yours, candle-head? Without a sword, that sheathe isn’t being used anyway.”

While Fynlo fumes, Sansum laughs. “I suppose it can’t be helped. Let us find this savage some breeches and ship him to the circus. He’ll share many smiles as a clown there.”

Rando folds his hands and mumbles. “These NPCs sure have a mouth on them, don’t they?”

Nora scoffs, “Only NPCs? Do you never leave your house?”

“But firstly,” Sansum continues, now gazing into Rando’s eyes, “what are you even doing here? This is a very dangerous place as the Holy Order has yet take control of this region.”

“The Holy Order?” Rando wonders. “Ooh, are we getting some lore exposition now?”

“His Highness asked you a question,” Fynlo reminds him, impatiently.

“Oh, right, uh… No, dialogue choices, huh? Hmm… Well, you tell me. I’ve heard this place welcomed novice players, but instead the game throws me into this cliched event. So let me guess how this updated story goes: You’re charmed by my combat skills and want to request I join the knights to help you save this world from the Dark Lord. Right? Lead the way, then! Train me. The Paladin class sounds lovely.”

Fynlo’s eyes widen and he turns to look to his prince, who stares back at him equally puzzled. Sansum turns back to Rando and asks him:

“Did you hit your head earlier?”

Fynlo says nothing, leaving Rando confused.

“What else is this supposed to be?”

“Now answer me this,” Sansum asks, still unable to grasp the situation, “have you seen a pillar of light emerge from the sky around the time those monsters pursued you?”

“That’s news to me, Jewel-Stud,” Rando shrugs. “Was there supposed to be one?”

“Your Highness,” Fynlo interjects, “I believe he can’t know. As you recall, from our sacred texts, one cannot see the very pillar of light they step out of.”

Sansum pauses to process the information. “Sir Fynlo… Are you… suggesting that this buffoon–”

“–is an Outworlder,” Fynlo completes his sentence. “Indeed.”

“Your destined Hero in the flesh!” Rando smiles proudly, posing like a superhero with his hands on his hips, his head held high, and his bare legs spread wide to reveal his prized jewels in all their splendor.

The stressed prince rubs his temples, unwilling to believe what was just said.

“It all makes sense, and yet it does not,” Sansum paces around restlessly. “He must either be a fool or an Outworlder. His manners state the latter, but my faith begs to differ. Why him? Is it because Outworlders are no longer brave enough that she must send a fool? Is that why none have graced this land for centuries?”

“Indeed,” Rando affirms, dramatically. “I am the Hero of Legends that your Goddess has summoned to defeat the Dark Lord and plunder riches with a harem of bitches. Fetch me my horse! Lend me an armor! Lead me to the fabled sword of light, and I promise you, I shall liberate these lands in–”

“There is no need,” Fynlo interrupts his monologue. “This world is doing just fine without you.”

“…Huh?” Rando blinks at this sudden rejection. His thoughts and assumptions fail him. This lasts for several moments as he is unable to respond to this unexpected scenario.

“What… do you mean?” He asks.

Fynlo senses his confusion and repeats himself slowly for Rando to understand.

“It is as I have said. We do not need you. Kindly return from whence you came.”