Chapter 4: AN UNPRINCELY DEPARTURE
Fearless heaved like a deflated balloon for the zenith times of the day. His mood began to curve downward toward the lightless pit of depression for a variety of reasons. Fearless sighed again, That’s the last one, he inwardly told himself, desperately fighting against his desire to keep sighing.
He could find nothing during his first and second exploration attempt around the pyramid. He found nothing that could possibly allow him to go home, not that he knew of one from his vast knowledge of the lore of ROC. That was the biggest contributing reason for his depression. Secondly, he was alone with a bunch of corpses in an eerie tomb. Thirdly, he has just carefully considered of his long-term prospect in the case that he could not return home for a long time or ever. The future was as dark as a dark hole. Fourthly, he started hearing voices inside his head.
Fearless wished that his phone at least had an internet connection. He could at least tweet with his fans to alleviate his depression, or chatting with Alice or playing online games to improve the condition of his current mental health. Or perhaps, trying to do something more meaningful like googling a method to return home.
Now, that’s some high-level escapism. There was a limit to how much positive he could be and he thought that he was approaching his limit. Fearless sighed again and immediately swore that would be the last one of the day. What he was about to do was something like a class change in a tabletop RPG game, he sighed inwardly.
The reason why he decided to have a class change after he realized that he could not remain in the tomb of the dark god forever. He cannot just scavenge for food and water in the tomb and live his day with a bunch of corpses forever.
The great Aristotle has stated, “Man is by nature a social animal; an individual who is unsocial naturally and not accidentally is either beneath our notice or more than human. Society is something that precedes the individual. Anyone who either cannot lead the common life or is so self-sufficient as not to need to, and therefore does not partake of society, is either a beast or a god.”
FY and Fearless were devotees of such belief. The only difference between the two of them was that FY understood and appreciated the philosophical aspect of that wisdom whereas Fearless, he fell in love with the practicality of those wise words.
Fearless knew how lonely and miserable a man can be, being separated from society. He remembered what it felt like when he was left behind on that tropical island. It was easily made its way to being one of the worst experiences he has ever had… had it not for that damn Bengal tigress….
Fearless remembered how miserable he felt on that island. He did not know how to search for fresh water. He did not know how to hunt the damn fishes for food. He ate the wrong kind of fruits and ended up buying a one-way ticket to a diarrhea dystopia. He could not make a proper bedding to save his life. He could not start the damn fire. It was miserable beyond any measurement of misery. He was not a prince on that island. He was a no god as well, and thus he could only become a beast.
His friends were extremely apologetic about that incident, especially FY and Fantasy. The knowledge that they had left Fearless on that inhibited tropical island haunted them for the rest of their lives even after Fearless told them that he forgave them. As for Fearless, he was not even salty about that. He felt no anger or resentment for them or any kind of ill will toward his friends. He understood the fact that once people get drunk, shit happened. And he went through shitty situations like that more than often due to the nature of his decadent life. Besides, that experience taught him many things. One of the many things that he learned from that terrible experience was that “Man will degenerate into a beast the moment he is isolated from society.”
Thus, Fearless made his second most important priority to return to civilization.
The nearest town from the tomb was in the kingdom of Silver Snow, lying beyond the great mountain range of the Spine. To go there, Fearless must go through the Mangora forest and climb over the Spine. Not a great plan, Fearless inwardly admitted, especially for someone who was extremely terrible at sports and made a career out of gaming and partying.
The second nearest town was the frontier city of Madukat, technically it was still within the kingdom of Zard. Madukat locates in the golden triangle region where the border of the three kingdoms of Zard, Silver Snow, and White Winter intersected. Now, that is a feasible choice, maybe?
According to his mental calculation, Fearless believed that he could make it to Madukat as long as his will to return to civilization remained true. However, to reach Madukat, Fearless must first head North through the Mangora Forest and crossed the Bison Prairie, quite a distance. He needed to seriously planned and prepared for that trip.
Fearless remembered that he has undergone many class changes in the past. He took the first class change from being a pianist to a magician when his mom passed away from cancer. Then, he took another class change from being a magician to pro-gamer after he met FY. And now, after thinking of his prospect in the world of Reign of Chaos, he decided to take another class change into a hybrid class between an undertaker and looter… so Underlooter perhaps? Yeah, let’s not go with that. That’s a terrible naming sense…
Fearless swapped his leathery uniform for a Greyscale hooded robe that he found. He wasn’t sure if the robe belonged to a male or female. It smells like old people…
The sour odor of the robe made Fearless could not help but pinch his nose. He had no desire to wear it either. However, Fearless thought that it’s better than allowing his clothes to enveloped in the smell of corpses.
Hang on, it was that moment, Fearless became somewhat confused. The clothes he wore to this world of Reign of Chaos were not the same thing that he wore to meet with his ex. He brought with him The Alliance’s uniform instead of the pink shirt and white jeans he wore when he listened to his ex’s sob story.
Oh, well, who cares? Fearless quickly dismissed the many questions popped up within the head, realizing that he had no way of explaining them.
Fearless began to move and rearrange the corpses of those magic casters in order to perform a mass funeral for them. At the same time, he was searching their body for valuable items. According to the lore of ROC, Mistress Death, the goddess who governs the aspect of destruction would welcome the deceases with open arms as their queen to be. She would not discriminate them regarding whomever they were in life, king or slave, saint or criminal. She would not charge them gold coins like Charon, Anubis or the Jade Emperor, not that they could bring their wealth with them to the beyond.
In his mind, Fearless told himself that, It’s a service fee, since he made a lot of effort into rearranging their bodies to prepare for their funeral. As Fearless was moving the corpses, he chanted the Buddhism mantra for salvation, prayed to the Christian god, the Norse gods, the Greek gods, the gods who ruled Escana and Mistress Death herself for the salvation of the deceases.
In his mind, Fearless would send off the magic casters to wherever they wanted to go in their afterlife. If they wanted to go to Valhalla, good, if they decided to go to heaven, great, if they made a decision to enter Samsara or Nirvana, excellent, or the Great Hall of Death, marvelous. As long as they would not haunt him in the future, anywhere is fine.
Fearless doubled and retched too many times for him to remember. It was until his stomach was but empty that he could begin doing his job properly. It was far from being the prettiest and sunshine kind of profession, that, Fearless has already predicted in his mind, This is literally the worst, he told himself as the corpse he was touching began to excrete on its own. Despite the piece of rag wrapping around his face like a mask, Fearless swore that he could still smell that sickening mushy smell of decay. It’s hard work but after repeating the process from one corpse to another, somehow Fearless got used to that.
The future looked bleak. It was like yesterday I was at the top of the world and today, I could not get anywhere lower than this SHIT. Once again, Fearless sighed. He thought of doing something funny to bright up his mood and thus brought out his phone to take a selfie with the pile of corpses behind him. He opened his Tweet account and started typing “#Classchange, #in another world,” of course, he could not upload it, but he did it anyway, because… why the heck not?
“What the fuck am I doing here?” Fearless sighed and lamented, became even more depressed than before. He felt like he would go crazy if he had to stay in this forsaken place longer. He felt a morbid need to converse with someone, someone that is not himself. He put his phone back in his pocket and resumed working. It did not take long for Fearless to decide that he was done for the day. He was tired, physically and mentally. He just wanted to lie down and rest. Fearless scanned the room and quickly examined his work, “Geh,” and an odd sound escaped his mouth. He thought he has finished moving at least fifty corpses or so. However, in reality, he only managed a meager twenty-seven. Fearless wished that he had listened to Merleon’s advice and exercised more.
Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.
Fearless left the corpses-filled room and moved another room, the one that the Greyscale magic casters have been converted into their sleeping quarter. Whilst exploring the temple, Fearless has discovered a collective seven rooms that was clear of cobwebs and dust.
Four rooms were obviously used as sleeping quarters, filled with makeshift beddings of animal hides and thick rugs. One room was converted to a makeshift mess hall, having piles of unwashed and washed dishes and food leftovers. The last two rooms were used as storage, containing provisions and supply. The four sleeping quarters were filled with dozens of dark colored sheets, rugs and hides spreading on the floor like packed sardines. There were also sachets and numbers of personal items lying around in the rooms. From the way it looked, Fearless deducted that this group of Greyscales must have lived in this tomb for days or possibly weeks.
The more clues Fearless gathered, the more confused he became. He was a bag full of questions. His mind filled with things like:
“What are these people doing here?”
“Were they trying to summon a demon lord?”
“Why would the Greyscale decide to summon a demon lord?”
“Were these people really a part of the Greyscale academy?”
“Are they allying with the occultists of the dark god?”
“Isn’t their number too little to summon a demon lord? Did they die because their summon ritual went wrong?”
“Did they steal Enfermé from the elves or did they borrow it?”
“What timeline is this?” “Whose campaign is this?”
Fearless could come up with a least a sounding theory to explain over half of the questions popped up inside his head. However, he has gained no conclusive evidence to support his theories.
“Am I summoned to this place as a demon lord? Nah… That sounds edgy as hell… Please don’t let it be true.” Fearless chuckled as his consciousness started drifting to the flickering flame in the brazier. “Why am I here?” He inquired the flickering flame.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
“Each of our members of The Alliance was in a sense the image of masculinity itself.
Starting off with FY, he is the very image of masculinity because he was a true gentleman. He walks like a gentleman, talks like a gentleman and behaves like gentleman. It is like FY strived to be the embodiment of gentleman and become one himself. That’s aside, FY is an incredibly charismatic person, easily one of the most charismatic people I have ever met and I got to meet a lot of charismatic people ranging from movie stars to show hosts due to my partying habit. The way FY talks and behaves makes people drawn to him, makes them wanted to talk to him more and stays by his side. The first time I met FY, I instantly thought that I wanted to grow up like that. I tried to emulate how FY talked, how he walked, how he behaved and to an extent, I could say that I have succeeded to do so. However, I could never be FY. FY is FY, nobody could be him.
Merleon is very different to FY or anyone of us. He is a 215 centimeters giant, obviously. He is tanned and muscular and looks nothing like a pro-gamer. If Merleon was to introduce himself to a bunch of people who do not know him that he is a pro-gamer, they would instantly think that he was bullshitting or trying to make a joke. If Merleon was to strip down to his triangle pants and walked on a street, people would instantly mistake him for one of those three hundred in Zack Snyder’s movie that somehow has traveled into the modern day society. More than often, Merleon was halted by the securities as he walks into the contestant area because of his physicality.
One time, there was a Reign of Chaos major tournament held in the Twin arena, I and the rest of my team were sitting inside our reserved area and wondering what took Merleon so long to get there. We waited for Merleon and at one point we started to feel extremely nervous, wondering if Merleon got into some sort of accidents. And then, Merleon’s SMS came, “Help, I can’t convince the security to let me go in.”
The security was like, “Dude, you are in the wrong area.”
And Merleon answered, “I am a contestant mate” in his thick Brisbane accent.
“I know. But you are in the wrong area. This area is reserved for Esport pro-gamer. Your area is in the opposite direction. Go back to the main hall and take the left turn.”
“But I am a pro-gamer mate.”
“Mate, very funny, but I am very serious here. Stop making troubles for me. Go back to the main hall and turn left or I will call my mates here to escort you there, mate,” the security ended the discussion while mimicking Merleon’s Brisbane accent.
There was a heavyweight boxing tournament hosted in the same arena that day and the security was so convinced that Merleon was supposed to enter that tournament instead due to the latter’s sheer size and muscle.
Fantasy, Fantasy is the most fashionable person that I have ever known. Fantasy was aspired to be a fashion designer like his mother when he was young but life has a different plan for him. Somehow, while Fantasy was on a fast track to becoming a successful fashion designer, he met FY and got converted to a pro-gamer. It’s like one of those weirdest stories ever. However, what makes Fantasy the image of masculinity was his absolute confidence in his own fashion.
Sometimes, Fantasy just wore the most controversial, the most hideous, the most bizarre, and the most unthinkable costumes that anyone has ever seen. It was the kind of costumes that make me asked, “Dude, you are really going to the party with me wearing that?”
And Fantasy had that surprised expression on his face, “Why not? What’s wrong?” as if everyone else is the weird one, not him.
And Misery, Misery, o Misery. How do I begin with Misery? Misery is like an edgelord, no he is an edgelord and the only edgelord that make me think that being an edge lord is cool. Even his nickname comes off like an edgelord. Misery is the type of people who would casually stroll the street with his over the top edgelord torn-up trench coat, his edgy worn-out pants, and boots, with his edgy shirt and sunglasses just to buy just a pack of cigarette and is not afraid of what people think of him. He is unapologetic if he ever comes across as an edgelord to most people. He is just being himself, minding his own business and listening to his own inner voice rather than listen to what people telling to him to be. If that’s not what masculinity is, I don’t know what.
“And how about you? I think that you are quite an image of masculinity yourself”
Hahahaha, thank you, thank you.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Fearless woke up in a state of total darkness. He was able to get proper sleep, not a good sleep, but a proper one. He even got to dream of that one time he was invited to the talk show of Jimmy Holland, one of Alice’s biggest talk show rival because FY was so busy and could not attend it.
The torch that he placed in the room has burnt out and the one next door was probably in the same state. He used his phone as the light source to navigate his way around the room. He remembered seeing stacks of unburned torches and sacks of firewood stored in the room next door during his exploration. It was this kind of moment that made Fearless regretted that he was not a smoker like Misery. He had no lighter or matches to start a fire. He cursed himself for his carelessness thinking that the fire would burn ….like forever. Luckily for Fearless, the braziers in the big room that littered of corpses was not burnt out. He used the brazier’s flame to kindle the unburned torch and decided to walk outside of the tomb to have some fresh air. He got lost twice as he navigated to the tomb entrance.
It’s dawn. The sun hid within the vast shadow of the Spine, peeking at Fearless like a shy girl who was having a mental battle between her shyness and curiosity. Fearless took his time to synch his Rolex with the time in this world, assuming that it was about six or seven in the morning from the height of the sun. He took a deep breath, lamenting the fact that he had neither a toothbrush with him nor coffee nor toast for breakfast. In the end, he resignedly sighed and resumed with his arduous work.
At this point, Fearless could smell that odor with his nose, the odor of rotting flesh, like that package of chicken breasts that he thawed but forgot to cook and left it in his kitchen sink for two days. He retched. Nothing came out, just gluey and smelly stomach acid. Fearless had not to drink or eat anything since the moment he came to this world. He willed himself to stick to his work before the corpses became smellier. Food and water can wait. He wrapped his handkerchief around his face like a mask, refueled the braziers with firewood and started working.
Fearless kept willing himself for the job, repeating his mantra that “This is necessary” for his survival and mental health. He had no wish to degenerate into a beast like that time. He wanted to be back to civilization as soon as he could even if it was a very different civilization.
The Rolex pointed two when Fearless was done with his task. Eight hours have passed since he started to work in the morning. He has managed to rearrange the corpses into three giant piles to prepare for their mass funeral. He gathered the loots and divided them into three categories, using three hooded robes as makeshift wrappings to transport the loots to the storage room.
He felt the gnawing of his stomach but he had no appetite after the kind of work he just did. The parch inside his throat compelled Fearless to search for a drink. Fearless returned to the sleeping quarter, the mess hall was too far for his tired legs. He remembered seeing a number of water sacks lying around the sleeping room. He took one at random and gulped down the entire sack. It felt good. This was the second time in his life that he was able to experience how good, how tasty plain water can be, he can even forgive that leathery smell. It’s good to be alive.
Fearless had no idea how much of the firewood he would need to cremate 108 corpses. He ransacked the storages for firewood and other combustible materials. He was in luck. He found four barrels of wine. Out of pure curiosity, this is for researching purpose, Fearless decided to savor the first taste of alcohol in the world of Reign of Chaos… taste like inferior product… It was like the thing was brewed for sake of brewing alone, without effort or desire of mastery.
After making a quick mental calculation, Fearless decided to fill five water sacks with wine and used the rest for cremation purpose. Inferior product is still better than nothing…
It took Fearless several trips before he could transport all the firewood sacks and the four wine barrels to that big room. He arranged the firewood evenly on the three piles and then poured the wine on them.
Three torches fell down, three pyres went up and a sentimental man drew the symbol of a hugging skull, honestly praying for the 108 souls to find salvation.
On the fourth morning after being transported to a new world, Fearless has completely packed the stuff he wanted to take with him. He said goodbye to the eerie tomb of the dark god, heading North with the determination of reaching the frontier city of Madukat.