Chapter 36: Prince and a premonition
Fearless talked with Bloodbeard until the light of morning peered through the rectangular arrow slits on the surrounding walls.
30% of the time they spent talking was used up by Fearless’ terrible attempts at convincing Bloodbeard to return to White Winter and lived an honest life. He could not bear to listen to the words that came out of his mouth. They were weak and without a shred of charisma.
However, that was perfect because he wanted them to be terrible. Fearless doubted that he had the charisma to convince Bloodbeard to give up his power in a matter of a day even if he really tried. He probably needed more time than that, possibly a month to accomplish such feat. Though, Fearless believed that FY and his most insane girlfriend could achieve that accomplishment within two or three days. One day was too short of a time to change a person’s mind unless there was a special circumstance involved.
While they were having that discussion, Bloodbeard asked Fearless why was he calling the Kingdom of White Winter as “the Empire.”
It made Fearless realized that he has made a mistake. The king of White Winter only crowned himself as the Emperor of the North after his army has conquered one-third of the Northern Continent. However, Fearless pointed out that White Winter has annexed three of his neighboring countries. White Winter was already an Empire in all but name. Bloodbeard bought that.
20% of the time they spent talking consisted of Bloodbeard tried to convince Fearless to help him with a strange salesperson’s method. The bandit lord believed that it was Wonten’s providence that he has met Fearless under this circumstance. He believed that he was meant to reunite with Fearless under the guidance of Wonten. He talked about his dream where he was lost, walking on a plain until he met a strange black feathered owl. He talked about how prophetic it was.
There was too much of zeal inside Bloodbeard’s system when the bandit lord started talking about Wonten, the god of strength and justice. Fearless found that it’s nearly impossible to interrupt Bloodbeard, especially when he was talking about Wonten and Wonten’s guidance.
Trying to get in between Bloodbeard and Wonten felt like Fearless was attempting to convince a hardcore fan of AG that The Alliance was so much better than AG. Obviously, there was no fucking way that Fearless could do that, hence, he carefully listened to Bloodbeard’s seemingly endless ramble. Bloodbeard’s ramble on the greatness of Wonten reminded Fearless that the bandit lord was a devout follower of Wonten. It made Fearless noticed the strap of the bandit lord’s waist belt was a blank mask, an idol of Wonten. Until now, he has thought that it was just as normal strap, nothing more.
The more he listened, the more he understood that Bloodbeard’s trust on him came from many sources.
Firstly, it was the decisive information that Fearless had regarding Bloodbeard’s trauma and history.
Secondly, Fearless’ acting was on point. It was genuine.
Thirdly, it was that strange dream that continually appeared inside Bloodbeard’s mind. He took that as a sign of divine, a providence of Wonten to help him. That was the decisive factor.
Fearless zipped his mouth and let Bloodbeard did all the talking. He thought that it was too convenient for him. That strange dream of Bloodbeard was the cement that solidified all of Fearless’ lies within the mind of the bandit lord. It saved Fearless at least a week-worth of effort and time to work his scheme.
That terrified Fearless. It was too convenient to be a coincidence.
Had Bloodbeard not tell him about the dream, Fearless would not know about it and he would not be so terrified. Fearless has learned the existence of the gods and goddesses from his encounter with Clariciel. If Clariciel was real, all the deities ruling the world of Escana were real, as well as the Demon Lords. That dream of Bloodbeard was too convenient for Fearless. The timing and the meaning of it were too convenient.
It made Fearless believed that either a Demon Lord or a deity must have a hand in it. However, which one, Fearless had no idea.
The power of constructing a divine dream was shared among the deceased dark god Naharis and all of his flesh and blood. That meant the four ruling deities, the twelve Valkyria, one sealed god, and the fifty-one Demon Lords; one of them must be the culprit of that dream. That sounded like one heck of insane conclusion and yet, that was the only conclusion that Fearless has arrived at.
That’s a lot of suspects to narrow down.
Fearless felt dizzied at the grim conclusion that he has arrived at. Someone made that dream to inform Bloodbeard of Fearless’ arrival, but who? In addition, for what purpose, to what end?
It was lucky that Fearless got a break since Bloodbeard was rambling on and on over Wonten to notice the change in Fearless. The idea that someone, other than Clariciel, has already read his memory through his dream made Fearless sick. And the fact that they manipulated things around him in advance made him truly sick to the core.
He did not expect himself to manipulate Bloodbeard in such a way. He did not expect to meet Bloodbeard in person.
It was unplanned on his part. Yet, that dream of Bloodbeard proved that the person who constructed it has expected Fearless to act the way he did. That thought terrified Fearless.
He felt outplayed for the first time after arrived in the world of Escana. To make it worse, Fearless had zero ideas of the identity of the person he was dealing with. His opponents, whoever they were at this time, operated on a whole different power scale comparing to all the opponents he had until now.
In the end, Fearless just gloated that part over to focus on dealing with Bloodbeard first. He could deal with whoever created that dream later. All that he had now were a bunch of theories that he could not even prove. It was useless for him to dwell on them.
He could only hope that the creator of that dream was not a Demon Lord. Fearless had no desire to deal with any of the fifty-one Demon Lords and their dark occultist faction. That would be the worst situation for him.
Another 40% of the discussion time had to do with Fearless egging the bandit lord to play a mind game on him, and thankfully, Bloodbeard felt right into his trap. The bandit lord attempted to challenge Fearless’ pride and his cocky attitude to say that he was all-bark and no-bite. Bloodbeard challenged Fearless’ pride and manhood, using them against Fearless.
“You said that you are better than Craxus the Dragon Slayer.”
“I am.”
“Then, surely you can fight Hyrios.”
“Obviously.”
“Why don’t you prove it to me? Not with word but action?” Bloodbeard took the chance to challenge Fearless.
And Fearless would stick to his character and replied, “Must Wonten prove to mortals that he is superior to them?”
Fearless would talk down to Bloodbeard with his usual I-am-obviously-so-much-better-than-you attitude. Since Bloodbeard loved talking about Wonten, Fearless used Wonten’s name against him. He rejected Bloodbeard’s attempt to win him over, leaving only but some obvious openings in between. Bloodbeard was smart enough to poke Fearless’ pride through those openings. Then, Fearless would pretend to show signs that he was slightly perturbed by Bloodbeard’s mockery.
Sometimes, the sexiest reply that a person can say to another person’s proposition is “No,” a rejection. That works in business, life and in love. Sometimes, instead of chasing after love, a person must learn how to make love chasing after them instead. Fearless knew that trick since he was but a primary school kid. However, at that age, he had no idea about the theory behind that but he knew how it worked.
Fearless made Bloodbeard chased after him. He made the bandit lord tried to convince him while giving out just enough positive responses to not make him give up. The worst thing that can happen to Fearless in this moment was allowing his constant rejections to tire out Bloodbeard, making the bandit lord completely give up.
At that moment, two particulars stories in the novel Romance of Three Kingdoms surfaced within Fearless’ head.
The first was the story of Zhuge Liang rejected Liu Bei’s proposition to be his advisor twice and only accepted after Liu Bei proposed to him the third time.
The second story was similar, Sima Yi rejected Cao Cao’s offer to work for him twice. The second time he even went as far as breaking his own legs to reject Cao Cao’s summon. Only when Cao Cao threatened to kill him and his family, Sima Yi would accept Cao Cao’s offer.
Both stories were heavily embellished and there were many different versions of those two stories floating around. However, the moral was the same. Through rejection, those two people elevated their status and worthiness in the eyes of their employers.
Eventually, Fearless accepted Bloodbeard’s offer to be his advisor with an attitude “It cannot help. Just this one time, after that, we will go back home.” Fearless did not miss that short-lived smirk on Bloodbeard’s face when he gave the bandit lord that reply. The bandit lord truly believed that he has won the mind game.
Then, the realization that he has succeeded to convince Fearless has finally sunk in. Joy danced and laughter erupted from within the bandit lord. That grizzly giant shook as his laughter echoed around the cobwebbed walls.
Fearless made the bandit lord to vow a few clauses before he would officially accept his role.
Bloodbeard agreed easily. Obviously, Bloodbeard had no idea what he has just signed up for.
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Fearless gave Bloodbeard his golden Rolex and taught the bandit lord how to use it. He gave Bloodbeard three hours to summon and explain the situation to his commanders. After that, he would meet up with Bloodbeard in the same room.
Bloodbeard was surprised about the watch. He has previously thought that it was just a shiny golden bangle, nothing more. He naturally thought that Fearless’ watch was dwarven-made. Any strange and technological looking gadget in Escana was believed to be either dwarven-made or titan-made and more than often, they cost a fortune.
That was one of the stereotypes in the world of Escana.
Bloodbeard was overwhelmed with emotions when he received it from Fearless. The bandit lord said that it was the first time he had received a gift, especially something like that.
He made Fearless felt bad. Fearless has only intended to lend his watch to the bandit lord. He did not intend to give it away as a gift. However, he let Bloodbeard had it in the end. That Rolex was worth less than most items and accessories Fearless had with him.
At the same time, Fearless informed Bloodbeard that he would retreat to the room that he told One-eye to prepare for him and rest.
Three hours, that’s the amount of time Fearless had with him to decide his course of action under the guise of resting.
Bloodbeard sent one of his boys to serve breakfast to Fearless. It was One-eye, no big surprise, Fearless has half-expected the same person. Considering Fearless’ overbearingly arrogant attitude into the equation, it was better to let someone know the terror that Fearless was capable of to serve him.
One-eye got the short end of the stick, though he did not look like he was in anyway offended.
However, the poor bastard had the look as if it was an honor and a privilege to serve Fearless. It seemed that Bloodbeard has told him that Fearless was his long-lost uncle and soon would be the savior of this ragtag army of bandits. Otherwise, Fearless could not explain the reason One-eye has become so demure and agreeable in his presence. He even insisted to carry Fearless’ backpack for him with a Lydia’s most devoted look of “I am sworn to carry your burden” even though he had never said something like that.
For whatever reason, One-eye decided to address Fearless as “Big Boss”.
“No, you are the Big Boss. I still have both eyes intact.”
One-eye looked at Fearless for a long time and gingerly asked. “Forgive me, but is that an elven joke?”
“Something likes that…”
In the end, Fearless settled with being called “Advisor.” Technically, his attributes would make Fearless an excellent strategist in the game but not a general. Hence, being called “Advisor” was not wrong. Furthermore, if Fearless was to allow himself to be called “Big Boss”, he might upset more than just a bunch of people within Bloodbeard’s camp.
It sounded like he was more important than Bloodbeard and even Bloodbeard’s commanders. That was never a good thing. A stranger liked him has just joined their pack and immediately become their boss, these beasts would not take it well.
In the game, Bloodbeard had with him a handful of capable commanders at the beginning of his campaign. They allowed Bloodbeard to split his army into small units at the beginning and effectively raided multiple objectives at once.
One-eye was one of Bloodbeard’s most-able commanders despite his status as a second rank general. If Fearless’ memory did not fail him, One-eye had one or two specialized perks in riding and archery.
Fearless could hardly remember the finer details about the man. If Fearless was to sum up his gaming knowledge on One-eye, it would be “second rank” and “normal”. The word “normal” was generally not a good label, especially in ROC. ROC had a colossal roster of over 5000 playable characters. Nobody, not even the biggest ROC nerds like Misery could remember every single one of those 5000. It was not humanly possible. Of course, there would be oddities among the gamers. However, generally, gamers could only remember the most appealing characters to them.
Gamers would easily remember the characters that were the most broken, the strongest, the weakest, the most insane, the smartest, the cruelest…
The character’s appearance design would also help a lot. For instance, if Fearless has known Iliva as a game character, he would remember her. She was the odd one out of the Arachnid, the only albino Arachnid of the bunch and definitely the most beautiful. She made it easy for people to remember her.
Therefore, if a person was just “normal” in both character and look, and commanded little-to-zero presence in the game just like One-eye, he made it’s very hard for gamers to remember his character.
One-eye obviously did not receive that kind of dedication in his character appearance design from his creator as Iliva did. Nevertheless, it could be said the same for all those bandits and pirate characters. Their appearance design was more than often the stereotype of what people would imagine bandits and pirates in the medieval world would look like. They all had a beard, either long or short. They all looked sinister, fierce and angry. They often had scars, one, two, or more on their faces. In the end, they all looked the same, saved for a few unique individuals.
Furthermore, the commanders and generals who were not among the 63 playable warlords received little details and coverage about their lives and history. Besides, only nerdy people like Misery would pay attention to people with little presence like One-eye.
This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.
Fearless followed One-eye to his new private quarter. It was a short walk from the previous room according to One-eye. Fearless only needed to cross the bailey and climbed the guard tower. During that time, Fearless got to see the structural remnants of the once famous ancient Fort Berandor. Though, in ROC and at the current time, it became known as the Bundor Bastion.
The Bundor Bastion or Fort Berandor was the first domain of the Dragon Slayer Craxus. It was built at the entrance of the Dragonfell Canyon to guard an ancient pathway that once connected White Winter and Zard through the sea of hills.
Fort Berandor had a unique design. It was built on a large arching rock that connected both sides of the cliffs of the canyon together. That arching giant rock was the result of thousand years of wind erosion.
If people were to look upon Fort Berandor while they were walking on the trail of the Canyon, they would think that the Fort looked like a giant dragon resting its wings. That arching rock looked like a nest, thus it was called “Dragon Nest”. The Bundor Bastion, the only vestige remained of the ancient Fort Berandor that stretched to the eastern hill of the cliff was the dragon’s elongate tail.
Players could only see the ancient fort in its full glory if they played the predecessor game of ROC.
ROC was the second installment of the “Escana” series. Its full name was Escana: The Reign of Chaos. It was the spiritual successor of Escana: Rise of the Dragon Slayer.
In Rise of the Dragon Slayer, Craxus was the one and only protagonist of the game. The game focused on Craxus’ entire life story, how he was born, how he came to known power, how he brought the entire Northern realm under his rule, and how he died as humankind’s first Emperor in the history of Escana.
On a side note, despite how Craxus was considered as one of the greatest military commander of all time in the world of the Escana series, he, unfortunately, became the butt monkey in the second installment of the series -ROC. He was a hidden character that only appeared with an activation of a cheat-code, not as a playable character but as the ultimate challenge for gamers to test their skills. Besides, his characters could be glitched into multiple versions for players to kick around.
Rise of the Dragon Slayer was released in the November 2031 by URLOX. At that point, URLOX had no way of knowing that their game would be as successful as it did.
It was a surprise hit in the gaming community for many reasons. The first was it came out of nowhere, from a new developer who nobody has even heard of. The second was due to its mechanic. Rise of the Dragon Slayer was something of a love letter to the old Starcraft and many other classic real-time strategy games. It played on the nostalgia of the older generation of gamers during the 2030s, reminding them of the landscape of the competitive gaming world before it was filled with MOBA games. And it delivered all the right notes of those classic games to gamers.
Around 2035, URLOX was bought by PIPE-an American video game developer, publisher, and digital distribution company. Six years later, ROC came out, setting the world of Escana 700 years after the death of Craxus.
Despite being the second installment of the Escana series, ROC was almost a different game from Rise of the Dragon Slayer. It was as if the developer of ROC could not decide to stick with the old mature, gritty and dark tone of the original game or be less controversial to appeal to a broader spectrum of audiences. In the end, they had to release two versions of the game. One was an R rated version to not upset the fan-base of Rise of the Dragon Slayers. The other one was an All-age version that censored out all the controversial and mature details, which became the official version for the ROC World Cup, which turned out great because it attracted a wider spectrum of audiences.
However, that was not the only thing that was different between Rise of the Dragon Slayer and ROC. While RTDS was consistent in term of its contents, ROC was not.
There were three developing teams responsible for creating the lore of ROC. Each of them was solely responsible for creating the lore, the culture, the setting of each of the three connecting continents in Escana. It was the result of those three developing teams’ failure to find agreement with each other and thus, they just decide to do their own things.
The old URLOX team that created RTDS decided that Karijard was the last dragon and there would be no dragon on their land. However, PIPE, the company that bought them said, “Bring back the damn dragons. Dragons are cool. What fantasy world that doesn’t have dragons?”
In the end, the old URLOX team could only obey their employer, however, not without a term, “Not on our land.” Thus, the dragons were back into the Escana series, but not on the Northern realm.
One of the developing team had to listen to the selfishness of their employer and created a Jurassic Park of a Continent where prehistoric dragons roamed the earth and dominated the sky. At the same time, they had to create a setting that allowed people to live in that kind of world where the dragons were the kings and queens of the food chain. Among the three developing teams that created ROC, this team that was responsible for creating the Long Continent seemed to always draw the short straw each and every time. Every time PIPE had a crazy idea, these poor people had to go along with them. In the end, somehow, they managed to make it work, miraculously. They created the most exotic and wacky of a world, yet, it was, at the very least, believable.
Fearless has tried playing Rise of the Dragon Slayer, out of curiosity. Of course, he would, just like a person would try to play Half-Life2 and Half-Life 1 after they had completed Half-Life 3 and Half-Life 4.
Fearless has seen the glorious sight of Fort Berandor, where Craxus began his journey. This was where the journey began, in all honesty, for Craxus and the Escana series.
However, the Bundor Bastion, the remainder of what once was Fort Berandor, it was a sorry sight, a shadow of its golden past, like an aged man sitting on a cliff, ancient and decrepit. Sunlight shone through the thick smoke of campfires and revealed his fractured and craggy face. Dead ivies and mosses hung on the weathered walls like an untrimmed shaggy beard. The rampart that once stood tall to protect the fort has crumbled apart, weathered, loosed and barely hanging like an old man’s jaws.
Fearless made a quiet sigh in his heart. He was trying to escape his pathetic reality by going with the flow, pretending as if he was a tourist on a sightseeing trip. However, he was utterly disappointed.
The warm snow has stopped falling when Fearless finished his long discussion with Bloodbeard. However, there were still a few mounds of white snow piling here and there on the walls and the ground of the bastion.
To make it worse, the tents pitched by Bloodbeard’s bandit were all over the bailey and the broken rampart of the bastion. If Fearless was to type the command to search for the respect that given to an important archaeological site of this world, the message <404 error: Respect not found> would show up. Otherwise, these bandits would not even think of making camp and campfires on the site like this.
As a student of history, it’s painful for Fearless to watch such a sight.
Those tents they erected came in many colors: white, gray, black, brown, etc. For a moment, they reminded Fearless of the circus he used to visit to learn his craft. Most of the tents were patched from all sorts of animal hides, fabrics and clothes altogether without a sense of artistic or whatsoever, a real punishment for the eyes.
Fearless’ eyes were, unfortunately, got caught in one of the tents in particular. That tent was such an atrocious of a sewing job that Fearless nearly threw up when his eyes managed to register it for what it was. It did not look like one those creations where the creators were trying too hard to create something impressive from nothing. It looked like a patch-up work of everything that the creator had with him at the time from garments, animal hides, all sort of rags and more.
Fearless has thought that would be the worst punishment his eyes could take for the day.
And he was seriously mistaken.
It happened too fast and it ended just as abruptly by the time Fearless came to himself.
As Fearless followed One-eye, walking through the pack bailey of the Bundor Bastion that packed with multiple mini-circles of bandit camps, it happened.
“One-eye, what’s with that large bag? Where are you going?”
A brash voice called One-eye and the demure bandit stopped, turned and looked at the source of that voice.
Fearless saw a bunch of burly men sitting around a small campfire to warm themselves. They were using a hammered-out piece of plate-mail armor as a cauldron to grill something inside it.
“Boss summons all of the commanders to the war room. Better finish that meal of yours fast,” One-eye replied.
Fearless followed One-eye’s line of sight and narrowed down on a man sitting among the circle.
That man was a shoulder taller than all the men sitting around the campfire were. His head was badly shaved, reminded Fearless of a peeled potato. A thick and briskly looking yellowish beard that resembled the bristles of broom extruded from the man’s hidden jawline. A piece of charred jerky stuck out of the man’s mouth.
“You have not answered my questions, fool,” the man violently tore that piece of jerky into two with a snapping sound. He gritted his teeth and yanked out the other half of the jerky with his large hand.
For a moment, Fearless seemed to recognize the identity of that man from his badly shaved head and his briskly yellow beard. However, he ultimately did not arrive at a conclusion.
“None of your business. I’m showing boss’ esteemed uncle his room.” One-eye lifted his chin proudly as he told the other man.
It was then that potato-headed of a man and his circle turned their sight on Fearless.
“Boss’ uncle? What the fuck are you talking about?” The man furrowed his brows, putting Fearless under careful scrutiny. “He’s a dark elf, isn’t he? And a fucking Greyscale…” he used the hand that was holding to the jerky to point at Fearless.
“Watch your fucking tongue. He’s the boss’ uncle and is your boss from today as well.” One-eye warned.
“Ah, shit,” Fearless inwardly cursed One-eye. He has told the bastard that he was merely an advisor, no more. He was nobody’s boss, Fearless has clearly told One-eye.
“That’s the first time I hear about that.” the man squinted his eyes, looking back and forth between Fearless and One-eye. His expression was half of confused and half of annoyed. He rose from his seat with a crisp of clinking metal. He was quite a giant of a man. Though he was not as tall and towering as Bloodbeard or Merleon, Fearless reckoned that this man must stand at 200 meters. “How could he be the boss’ uncle? The boss is a human for Sinintee’s cock. And this flimsy looking fucker is a dark elf.”
Fearless heard the clinks of metal ringing in the air again.
“Watch your tongue.” One-eye hissed, slowly dropping the luggage on the ground to confront that 200 giant.
“And you tell me that this thing is my boss from today? You fucking lost your mind or something? This thing looks like it came out from an exotic whorehouse of those rich fat nobles in Lamentia.” The man shouted, pointing at Fearless. He made a violent yanking movement with his other arm.
It’s only now that Fearless could see where those clinking noises came from.
That man’s left arm was wrapped in a long black iron chain. Connecting to that long chain was a mass of flesh and skin. It took Fearless a full second for his eyes to fully register the entire of that reddish and brownish dirty looking mass of flesh and skin; and another second to realize that the collective of flesh and skin that he saw were human beings…. naked women.
Fearless blanked out.
Those women possessed not a single piece of fabric to cover themselves even in this cold weather, all nude. Their skin was covered in filth, dirt, scrapes and the brownish patches of dried blood.
Their bodies were filled with all manners of horrifying looking bruises that came with of all sorts of colors from whitish, yellowish, purplish, reddish, to the sunken black. Those bruises and scrapes came with all sorts of shapes and sizes, making those women looked like some kind of exotic wild animals. They did not look like human beings.
Those women, their neck and wrists were collared to that long black iron chain wrapped around the left arm of that man as if they were his pets.
From such a horrific image, Fearless has almost concluded that those women were all dead. But, they did not. Those obscure non-stop shaking, those quiet whimpering, those chained weakly hands that brought up to cover their mouths and muffled their whimpering and moans, those submissive casting down heads… those women were alive.
One of the women on the front most of the pack looked like she had her arms broken. They barely hung to her shoulders, lying flat on the ground, unmoving. Every time the giant bandit yanked the chain, she gritted her teeth to endure the pain.
They were alive.
However, Fearless did not know if their current state of being constitute as being alive.
Fearless blanked out. His ears could not keep up with the conversation between One-eye and that giant man. That accursed mating song of cicadas was getting louder within his ear canal.
Fearless blankly looked at that giant mass of inhumanity. He immediately deducted the identity of the bandit.
Ekar the Cruel.
He was also a bandit lord before Bloodbeard made him submitted. Even though, Bloodbeard never trusts him enough to command a large unit. This man was one of Bloodbeard’s best commanders, a top-tier second rank general.
Fearless has finally remembered.
This man was one of the most standout characters among Bloodbeard’s faction. He possessed a unique skill
This unique passive skill allowed Ekar to demoralize enemy units at a certain range around him. While most of the characters possessed the skill
Fearless felt his stomach churned. He could almost taste the bitter and sour of his stomach acid within his mouth. He forcefully swallowed it down. He wondered if he was under the effect of Ekar’s skill.
“Poker face, poker face, poker face,” silently, Fearless chanted his mantra while locking eyes with the bandit commander.
However, his ears could not filter out the clink of iron chains or the groans of those women amidst the song of the cicadas. His eyes, no matter how much he tried to zero in the smug face of the bandit, they would register the bruises and broken figures of those chained women.
Those women were lesser than slaves. They were lesser than human beings. They were toys that were created to be broken and damaged. They were the painting that reflected the twisted cruelty of Ekar. They were the instruments for Ekar to demonstrate his terror to the world.
It was not like Fearless cared about them. He did not even know those women. Who they were, how did they get themselves into such hell; it was none of his business.
However, they brought summer to him.
Summer was here with its accursed song, the damned song of the mating cicadas. It rang and it buzzed noisily within the depth of his ear canal. It was that accursed season again.
For a moment, the existence that was Fearless disappeared as if he was suddenly wiped out. Only Bạch Đại Phúc remained.
The dreaded red of blood flooded his vision. The orchestra of the accursed cicadas blasted his eardrums as if he was on a rock concert. The rusty smell of blood filled his nose.
Summer was here.
He has successfully run from it for so long, every single fucking year. Yet, he allowed it to catch up to him when he was most unprepared.
Summer was here.
It was like a persistent predator that refused to let it wounded go. It would track its prey to the end of the world.
It was an invisible collar that wrapped around his throat, a chain that kept extending itself to give him the illusion that he was free from it. And then, when he thought that he was free from it, it seized him like he was its slave.
The first thing Bạch Đại Phúc tried to do was not looking for Fearless. He helplessly searched for the comfort within touch of his magic coins inside his pockets. It was almost instinctive. He shared that bad habit with Fearless. However, his beloved magic coins, as magical as they were, they did nothing to help Bạch Đại Phúc to run away from the damned tightening collar of summer.
The pair of legs that allowed him to run for two straight days without stopping from the pack of Mangora spiders, the same pair of legs that let him traversed the Bison Prairie and crossed the scorching Gobi Desert once, they felt like they were constructed from a thousand pieces of glasses. A touch was all it needed to break the pair, let alone support his entire weight.
A fractured noise chinked. It coursed through his entire body.
The buzzing echoes of the cicadas’ song formed a crack across the surface of that fragile pair. That damn cracked widened with every beat and chord of the damned song. It was like the weight of the entire world was about to come down crashing on him.
Then all of a sudden, through the murky red of his peripheral vision, Bạch Đại Phúc realized those watching eyes were focused on him. This was a stage. He was on a stage. Bạch Đại Phúc had no business on a stage. He made a small and humble snapping sound within his head.
The lights went off.
The stage was pitch black.
Then, with another snap of fingers, light returned to the stage. Fearless was there, standing right in the dead of the center of the spotlights. Bạch Đại Phúc was nowhere to be seen.
The stage belonged to Fearless and Fearless alone. Bạch Đại Phúc had no business on a stage, especially this one.
However, the damage was already done. The woefully weak Bạch Đại Phúc has allowed the stage to crush him when Fearless was gone.
His heart beat in a chaotic chord, a giant mess without rhythm or pattern. His ears were oozing with the dreaded melody of the mating cicadas. His palms drenched cold in an ocean of sweat.
However, Fearless did not allow the earth to slip under him. He stood still and straight, with his chest stuck out. Fearless could only try to salvage the damages. It was not about whether he can do it or not. It was his role and responsibility. He had to do it.
His tears were millimeters away from spilling out.
No, no, no, no, NO
Fearless silently told himself. There would be no tear. He would not show a single drop to these worms.
Yet, his eyes felt like they were violently rubbed with a fistful of blistering pepper powder. Fearless fought to control it with his masterful acting. However, the scorching summer heat broke the valves in his eyes and the damn tears rolled anyway. No amount of acting or control could stop those damn boiling liquid from rolling.
“Relax your jaws. Relax your jaws.” Fearless told himself inwardly, casually faking a wide lethargic yawn to fake out the source of his tears. When a person felt dreaded, his jaws would be stiff. Fearless would show these worms no sign of fear.
This is the tears of boredom, worms.
Fearless gave Ekar the Cruel a sidelong bored look as if he was but an oversized maggot. He established eye contact with the bandit for a brief moment and ended it on an arrogant high note. Then, Fearless yawned again, letting another drop of boiling crystal rolled on his cheek. That was the last of its kind in this fucking morning, Fearless furiously vowed. He casually brought his sleeves up to dry the corners of his eyes of those damn tears.
The bandit stood before Fearless, staring down at him. He was taller than Fearless but shorter than Merleon and Bloodbeard. His face looked intimidating and his natural height gave him a bonus point in term of the intimidating factor. However, he was less than a human, just a worm, a mere parasitic worm, worse than insects.
A two meters worm is still merely a worm. Human does not cry to worms. Human is above worms.
Fearless gave the bandit his most arrogant smile, staring right back at the bandit. He has faced a demon; a mere worm like this could never scare him.
Fearless cursed himself for his brief disappearance and accidentally let the unassuming Bạch Đại Phúc stood on the stage.
He had only himself to curse for allowing this kind of pathetic worm, a mere stupid parasite to incur such damage on him. He cursed the fucking two meters long parasitic worm for bringing the accursed song of the cicadas into his eardrums.
He was fury for what fury was. He has not been as angry for years. In fact, all the anger he has built up until this very moment seemed to be insignificant. Unique skill or not, he as a human has allowed himself to fear a mere worm. It was insulting. That was something he could not forgive himself.
Human does not fear worms.
The angry curses within Fearless’ head brought forth the howling silver winds of winter.
Winter has always been Fearless’ beloved season.
The frigid winds of screaming silver drawn out the accursed song of the cicadas and cleaned his ears with their icy tune. Tears had no place in winter, only a frigid trail of crystal on the ashen cold cheeks. The touch of the magic coins bit his fingers like frostbite. It hurt but it felt great. The frosty embrace of snow would calm his jumbled heart. His mind always felt crystal-clear and tranquil like the mirror-like surface of a frozen lake when the silver cold fingers of winter clutched on him.
Winter was Fearless’ season, always.
Winter is here, worms, and it does not like your kind.