The golden coins spun from one long finger to another, fluid and mechanical. I played with the coins. I had played with them for so long that they felt like an extension of my hands. Different coins, not the one that the old man has gifted to me. But similar, in weight and shape. I played with them, spinning them between my long fingers.
My heart can take a beating. My mind can take this grind. I’m stronger than this, I often reminded myself. A declaration. A declaration for myself. If I could make a declaration, I could make that declaration a reality. I’m stronger than this. So I repeated, the same old declaration when shit happened. But I would always snicker. Inside dreamland, I snickered at my own declaration. Funny, I thought. My sharp ears told me that I have lied. I’m stronger than this. It was not supposed to be a lie. And yet, my ears told me otherwise. I had no idea where should I placed my doubt, myself or my sharp ears.
I used to think that that I was the type of person who solely lived in the moment. Meaning, I had never learned from my past failures or mapped out my future course.
However, I doubted that now. The longer that I stayed inside this Divine Dream, the more sentimental I became. I longed for the old days. I longed for a bygone past. The longer I stayed in dreamland, the less I understood myself. I wanted to forge ahead, into that future where I have already smashed apart URLOX’s ego and the arrogance of these participants of the Reign of Chaos. I knew my priority. And yet, at the same time, I found myself spent times crying on the long-gone past more than plotting for the future. I knew the most logical path that I should tread. I knew my priority.
And yet… I was unable to let them go.
The aching lump inside my heart. The radiating tumor inside my head. The long-gone past and the thicken stream of Sanguine’s venom coursing through me. I knew the most logical choice, cutting off the lump and removing the tumor. But… I was unable to let them go.
Cutting The Alliance off. Cutting my old memory off. Cutting Phúc off.
Sometimes, a person did not need to be a psychiatrist to know how to fix himself. But knowing and doing were two separated matters.
I’m bad, I told myself, the same old words. I did not miss the competition. I did not miss the fanfare. I did not miss the glimmer of the disco lights, or the old chucking chants, the rowdy herald of drunken laughter and the random orgies. I did not even miss those women who have been so infatuated with me. I’m bad, I told myself, the same old words, I’m a bad man.
I missed the old days, dearly. I missed home, my home. And Sanguine’s venom only reminded me just how homesick I was. So I laughed at the irony and misunderstanding.
Searek saw that image of me willingly drank Sanguine’s venom as a saintly act. Searek thought I infected myself with Sanguine’s venom to gain an understanding of it in order to help the other captives. Lynx’s knowledge of alchemy from experimenting on himself solidified that belief in Searek, driving him to think that I was a saint. But, no, I understood what Sanguine’s venom was before I drank a mouthful of it. I knew what it was and what it would do to people and why it felt so repulsive to Death. Anyone who was smeared in that venom was barred from the black moon. I already knew its properties before I drank it.
Faugus thought I was being fearless and caring. He was only half-correct. Isonos thought I was demonstrating just how powerless Sanguine’s trademark miracle against me. He, too, was only half-correct. Pride praised me for realizing a method to make Death gave up her infatuation on me. Even Pride was only half-correct.
Sometimes, talking less meant more. Sometimes, action spoke louder than words. Sometimes, it was better to let people convincing themselves than convincing them myself. I let my General Staff believed in whatever they wished to believe in. But drinking that venom was my arrogance. Drinking that venom in front of Searek and my General Staff was my cunning. Keep all of that a secret was my selfishness.
I’m bad, I repeated the same old words.
Mortals, whose souls infected with Sanguine’s venom, were barred from the mercy of Death’s grace. I allowed Sanguine’s venom to course through my soul.
All of the Authorities under Sanguine’s possession were Transcendent Rank or above, thus the miracle born from them shaped accordingly to Sanguine’s personality and desires. Sanguine possessed two Mythical Ranked Authorities,
Lust, for instance, was Mythical Rank in
Acrẽa, too, possessed
Similarly. Sanguine was a self-deceiving demon. Sanguine’s
Sanguine, despite having the moniker the Embodiment of Madness, was very sane. Its actions and words were tenaciously coherent. The fact that Sanguine nodded to Yasubotay’s suggestion back then, fully intending to use the loophole in Death’s judgment to pick Phúc as its Champion. The fact that Sanguine laughed when Yasubotay suggested championing the women I have protected as its warlord.
Sanguine’s thought process became clear to me.
That was not the thought process of an insane person. That was the thought process of a cruel demon, cruel but sane, a demon that lived to glorify insanity without being insane.
Meaning, Sanguine was a self-deceiving demon. Thus, one or many of its miracles would manifest in the form of self-deceit.
Due to
I realized how much I missed FY’s constant nagging. My special privilege, because FY has never nagged to anyone else. I have always hated being told what-to-do and what-not-to-do by people. I loathed listening to other people’s preaching. But FY’s day to day nagging was different. Sometimes, I would actively do the wrong things to be nagged in the ears by FY. Before I realized it, FY’s day to day nagging has become my favorite cup of coffee, my favorite wake up call, my compass to live through the chaos of the world.
I missed Misery’s nerd talk. Annoying as it may sound, but I missed his nerdy talks. They were full of enthusiasm and childlike joy. I missed my day to day prank war with Fantasy. It made the two of us alerted and doubted everything, wondering if our mouse was really an electronic mouse and not a mousetrap in disguise. He poured Trinidad Scorpion pepper extract into my morning coffee. I poured a cup-full the same substance on his groin at night when he slept. I missed Merleon’s presence. His awkwardness and stoic, and honesty. I missed Alice. Terribly. I missed her kiss. Her slaps. Her anger and tears. I missed my dad. His forlorn look, weighted down by the sorrow of life. I missed her tearful face whenever he allowed himself to be absorbed by his music. I missed his music, its kindness, and pleasant cruelty.
At the same time, all of my what-if questions were answered, thanks to the delusions that Sanguine’s venom showed me.
I asked myself a lot of useless what-if questions and I kept uselessly pondered about them.
What if Merleon did not injure his leg?
What if Nightmare lost that World Cup Final?
What if FY did not discover Merleon?
Even though pondering those questions would not solve anything. That’s why they were useless in the first place. Pondering those what-if questions would not give me anything. Not gratification. Not happiness. Nothing. A waste of time, I knew. I could not help but ponder about them. I could not imagine who else could fill Merleon’s shoes in The Alliance, but Sanguine’s venom was there to help me, playing accordingly to my desire.
I knew the answer, my answer in the form of delusions.
I arrived from the other side of the mirror because I was needed. If either one of those what-if questions was true, I would not exist.
For that, I was thankful to S0rr0w. Thanks to him, the Demon Lord of Lavatein, I existed. Thanks to S0rr0w being the worst matchup possible for Phúc and FY, I came to be. Thanks to S0rr0w, I could never be sway by ULROX’s illusions and lies in this strange world.
In ROC, there is only one Demon Lord. The Demon Lord of Lavatein. The rest are copycats.
A Demon Lord’s truest Authority, its name is Absolute Despair. There was no other name. If a Demon Lord could not instill absolute despair into the heart of a person, that Demon Lord was a Demon Lord in name only.
If a person fought against Nightmare sometimes had the illusion of hands choking at his neck, a battle against S0rr0w gave him the impression of being trapped inside an unbreakable spider net. Trapped, every time that person made a decision, he only entangled himself further inside the net of despair while the Demon Lord of Lavatein stared at him. Every decision, every tactic, every strategy that he employed felt like the wrong move, completely trapped and helpless.
S0rr0w was both, a great tactician and a great strategist. And his most defining strategies and tactics worked around trapping his targets.
Tactics were the actual means used to gain an objective, small ploys, while strategy was the overall campaign plan, involving complex operational patterns, activity, and decision-making. Therefore, it was easy to see who was a tactician and who was a strategist. The one who was good at gaining the objectives under the pressures and time limitation had the disposition of a good tactician. The one who was good at drawing up the correct objectives and had a great vision of the goal possessed the making of a good strategist.
That was why S0rr0w’s traps were terrifying. Every small ploy, every little trap, every tiny mistake that S0rr0w and his team members made were carefully arranged and aligned for a greater and more insidious purpose. Sometimes, a person got entangled in the spider net that S0rr0w weaved would result in the entire team being trapped.
S0rr0w was both, a great tactician and a great strategist. It took a moron who lived to glorify Stupidity to beat him. Life was that weird. And still, S0rr0w believed that I was a smart man, trying to find the logic in my Stupidity, still refusing to believe that he could be repeatedly beaten by the reckless abandoning force of ill-logic.
Sanguine’s venom played along with my delusions and enhanced them, made them real, very real. I saw all of those what-if scenarios playing inside my head, running in parallel.
Sanguine’s venom was that kind of venom, a substance that allowed me to tread through my memories with vivid and truthful details. At the same time, it showed me a what-could-have-been and what-should-have-been, what I wished that was true, and how I wished to relive my life instead. My truest hidden desire. Basically, it revealed my wishful desires and wiped away the blur in my memories.
It was a venom that enhanced my experiences and feelings. It was a truthful lie, self-deceit. It tested a person’s fortitude.
If a man could not handle the truth, he became mad. If a man could not accept his truest desire and delusions being displayed against his better conscience, he went mad. If a man could not distinguish what was fake and what was true, he lost his sanity and identity. If a man lost to the despair of his reality, he went completely insane. If a man could not withstand the nonsensical, stupid and cruel spectrum of life, he could only become insane to live with it. That was madness, on Earth and on Escana, same shit.
A man went mad on his own, Sanguine’s venom only played an indirect role in his madness, as well as being the catalyst.
Too bad, it could not make a mad man mad, I laughed in self-mockery. Sanguine’s venom had limited effects on madmen, people who were already mad in the first place, or people like me and Isonos, madmen who have completely come to term with their madness.
Sanguine’s venom became a perfect vehicle for us to relive our past or recovered a specific memory of ours.
What doesn’t kill you would only make you stronger.
Sanguine’s venom, instead of breaking us down, enhanced us, became a device for us to perceive our weaknesses, failures, mistakes, past, presence, and future. It allowed our delusions and imagination to manifest in vivid details. Neither I nor Isonos could ask for a better gift.
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I had not a single idea of how I arrived at this strange world. Sanguine’s venom showed me all manners of delusions and conspiracies, but none made any sense. I had no explanation as to why URLOX would choose me to be a part of the narrative in their game. The delusions that Sanguine’s venom showed me only made this question more confusing than helping. I had no clue if I could remotely put an end to this war that I have already started. Before I drank the venom and now after I have already drunk it.
I had no idea if I had gone completely insane a long time ago and imagined myself being transported into this fuckup world and everything.
But I knew one thing for sure. URLOX messed up their world setting and balance when they introduced me into their game and universe. That was the first major fuckup that URLOX has made.
As for the second major fuckup, URLOX must have mixed up the codes for my
Instead of coding these two perks as Unique Perks, URLOX must have miscoded these two perks under Unique Authority. Meaning, they have made me the worst philandering cuckoo, the worst to ever exist in this universe. The worst that was and will be, on the celestial and deity level, like what Zeus was in Greek mythology, but worse.
URLOX gave me, a human two Unique Authorities, me, who was supposedly a mere mortal in their world setting.
URLOX only had one job and they messed it up. Either that or they were telling me to man-whoring all the ways to victory. Thinking about that, I wished I could make a phone call right now, calling a hit-squad to go after them, all of them. Scaring them shitless for weeks and months until I called my boys off.
An hour before my next match with Pride began, I visited Greed. As usual, Greed greeted me in her casual cloth, a baggy dress, which sold-out on comfort rather than fashion. Greed was a stark contrast with Pride and Acrẽa in term of fashion. Acrẽa had the habit of overdressing, complimenting her waxen look with sexiness and erotism. Greed, on the other hand, has never given a fuck about appeal, trend or fashion. She dressed however she wanted, which often reminded me of Fantasy’s atrocious fashion senses.
“Little rabbit, what’s your business today?” Greed asked, making a suggestive obscene gesture with her chubby finger. Acrẽa called me “Sex fiend.” Greed called me “Little rabbit.” Different words, same meaning.
And I kept telling Greed to remove the “Little” from her “Little rabbit.” I had no problem with being labeled as a sex fiend by sex fiends like Acrẽa and Greed. But being called, “Little rabbit” always annoyed me. Anyone would appear as little in front of a twelve feet tall of pure unadulterated indulgence like Greed, anyone but a giant. But the only one that Greed affixed the word “Little” was me. No man likes being called “little”.
Slightly annoyed by Greed’s tone, I gave her a defiance scowl, “Must I have a business in order to pay you a visit?” Still, I informed Greed to get ready. I intended to release Greed, Wrath, and Managan on the same day, making them the second batch of my released captives.
Greed played around with one of her strayed dark strands and listened to the news in silence before telling me to prepare to receive the Gauntlets of Greed when I woke up. The Gauntlets of Greed was one of the many Divine Relics that had never graced its appearance into the game. And for good reasons. Aside from being the item that constituted Greed’s immortality, Naharis’ Bloodstained Gloves or also known as the Gauntlet of Greed has been mentioned through various references as an item that granted unlimited wealth to its wielder. It could not be considered as anything but cheat codes. Therefore, giving this item to an irresponsible charlatan like me was like giving nuclear launching code to the worst bunch of lunatics. If there existed an item in this universe to be used to crash the economic system of an entire kingdom, the Gauntlet of Greed was that item.
Escana is soooooo fucked, I thought.
I inadvertently sighed, “You people just break all the challenges and contests in the world through cheats. Can’t you think of anything else other than using the Authority and Miracle granted to you to solve problems? Over-reliance on Miracle and Authority made you people stupid and less creative.”
“Do you want them or not?” Greed cracked her chubby knuckles and bore her porcelain face down at me. She threatened me, even though the only way that Greed could hurt me inside this dream was calling my dick, little boy. “One word,” gnashed Greed, loudly.
Every Demon Lord in the ROC universe was responsible for creating a demon race. Echo created the banshees. Lust created succubi. Acrẽa mothered the vampires. Similarly, Greed created the Djinns. Djinns, according to Islamic belief, were invisible spirits created by God from smokeless fire, appearing in the form of humans or animals. Djinns were are neither innately evil nor innately good. But in the URLOX’s ROC universe, Djinns were demons. They were the closest type of trickster spirits to the fire elementals. They shared many traits that the fire elementals possessed, but at the same time, they could not be more different.
Greed stood with her arms crossed in front of her chest, further highlighting the sheer backbreaking weight of Greed’s defining indulgence. Not even that baggy dress could hide Greed’s exaggerated hoard.
I swallowed the excess saliva built up inside my mouth in the matter of half a second, subtly and silently.
Greed was a towering three meters of physics-defying meatiness and greatly exaggerated curves. All of her breathtaking proportions and curves took the meaning of the words “Greedy,” and “Unashamed” and “Indulgent” to the beyond of the beyond.
If people criticized Pride and Lust for being overly sexualized with their body and dress code out of their jealousy, defining what beauty was with their golden hourglass, Greed mocked the word “overly sexualized” through the sheer force of her meaty indulgence and exaggerated curves. Greed could wear a modest and baggy dress and still earn that “hyper-sexualized” label while standing next to a row of models in bikini.
In an already controversial game with edgy, grime, NSW and completely uncomfortable details, Greed, somehow became the most controversial topic through her appearance alone. Boys would definitely run into a lot of problems when they were playing the occultist faction, and somehow beat the gacha and summoned Greed, while their mother was also in the room.
Just by looking a Greed’s character art without knowing any further concept or context, people would readily mob the original artist who was responsible for creating Greed with the usual labels and criticisms of self-indulgence, misportraying of a woman’s body, hyper-sexualizing a woman with the predatory eyes of a man… without knowing that the artist was a woman herself.
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Greed messed up people’s perception of beauty and aesthetic.
In a quick hurry, I slapped that pair of crossing-arms that stuck out like a sore thumb down, preventing myself from being distracted by my own indulgence. I took a deep breath and delivered my answer as fast as possible. “Egotistically, I don’t want them. Emotionally, I am very conflicted. Rationally, I am really grateful.”
Greed clucked her tongue, “Shut up and just take my wealth,” curtly said while asserting her power by ruffling my head. The Gauntlets of Greed was the very item that constituted Greed’s immortality. Lending them to a charlatan like me required a lot of courage, trust, and stupidity. I could not imagine Greed would lend this item to anyone else even if that was Pride.
I slapped Greed’s hand away. “Stop twisting the truth. We both know that you just want to hire a professional bodyguard to protect your gauntlets for a worthlessly cheap price,” joked I, grinning, poking fun at Greed.
URLOX envisioned Greed as the wealthiest but also the poorest Demon Lord. Her Gauntlets of Greed granted her unlimited wealth, an unlimited wealth of gold, precious gems, and treasures. All of which had no value to a Demon Lord or an Immortal. Greed’s moniker was the Sow of Glory, acted as both a mockery and praise. All warlords that Greed has championed made a name of themselves in the history without exception. But for all the wrong reasons similar to my talent for appearing on the headlines of Esports newspaper for all the wrong reasons in the world.
“And Greed is my name, not yours, greedy rabbit,” Greed smirked, taking my joke surprisingly well. She played along with me, “Name your price,” said Greed, drawing in her lower lip suggestively, winking.
“I’m a rabbit, remember? What does a rabbit want?”
“Carrot and grass, do you think I have…” Greed answered but could not hold her it until the end. She snorted into a burst of endless laughter. “Come,” Greed said, her voice turned husky and indulgent. Her eyes half-lidded, seductive, inviting, drawing me in with her unashamed debauched greediness.
See this Allah? See God? See this Buddha? This is why you should send me to your hell, not here. You got the wrong address. Damn you all.
I mentally sighed and surrendered myself to the sheer weight of my combined indulgence with Greed.
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Usually, Pride would pick the faction that I had a bad affinity with or counter-pick the faction of my choice by predicting my thought. But this time, she chose the dark occultist faction as she had declared. And I have already told her that I knew how to deal with this faction very well. I could not help but admire that arrogance and courage.
The first Demon Lord that Pride summoned was none other than herself. I had expected Pride to do just that when I lifted the gacha system that URLOX used to summon a Demon Lord. Such was Pride’s ego.
I was secretly thankful for the opportunity. After all, I have rigged our previous game, making sure that Pride would summon her own avatar when she summoned a Demon Lord.
When Pride summoned her second Demon Lord to the field, Ember and Sasengun gave me a strange look. They looked at me as if I was a man who has stabbed them in the back.
“Always expect the unexpected,” I reminded them, twisting S0rr0w’s famous words “You cannot expect the unexpected.” I had already given my staffs the same warning at the beginning of the match. It appeared that I did not get my message across. I gave Sasengun and Ember a callous shrug. The two of them quickly snapped out of their initial shock and tried to compensate for the unexpected change.
Faugus and Searek watched the battle from the sideline while the rest of my General Staff observed from a monitor. I took a glance at them. I thought that I might have spoiled my General Staff rotten.
They were about to participate in a war against Demon Lords and Gods. And somehow, they had little trust that the rules and settings of the game would not change when the game had become a reality. I made them play ROC to gain a rough understanding of the current situation and the war to come. I did not want them to blindly trust the settings and the knowledge they gained from the game. The multiplayer mode of ROC messed up their understanding of the Demon Lords. They saw a battle with a Demon Lord in the mortal world as something normal. But there was nothing normal about that. It was the most abnormal sight. Demon Lords were beings that were born from Authority and miracles. There was no surefire strategies or tactics against them.
My dreamland messed up my staffs’ understanding regarding the power scale even further. In this place, I was the jailer and these Demon Lords were my captives. Inside this dreamland, I was the god and the most powerful being. As a result, my staffs have grown used to the most abnormal sight in Escana, the sight of a human turned the like Demon Lords into mockeries. I had no intention allowing them taking it for granted because no Immortal would ever make the same mistake of intruding my dream again, ever.
Pride summoned her second Demon Lord to the field as quickly as she could. Demon Lords were super units, unfair and broken just like the Broken 13. Of course, why having only one when you could have two OP units on the field? I understood that irresistible urge.
The second Demon Lord that Pride summoned was Managan. Managan, the Spawner of Blight. Her name meant Soul Water in Titan, a fitting name for a Demon Lord whose shape was a humanoid-shaped slime. Managan was what most fans of the RPG genre recognized as a slime monster. Managan appeared in her artwork as a watery menace of distilled curses that took the form of a faceless woman. According to Misery’s investigation, many morbidly curious ROC fans have determined that Managan took her shape after Niwdar’s original body after making many careful cross-examinations between their three sizes from various artworks.
Despite her title, Spawner of Blight suggested otherwise, Managan could not mother any offspring. In the lore, any mortal that Managan touched would die from curses within seven days. That or accepted Managan’s salvation and became one of her kin, one of the living-blight, lived only to spread her corruption to another generation. Managan’s only purpose was said to turn Niwdar’s creations against her. In one of URLOX’s earliest artworks, Managan was shown battling with Niwdar in that wallpaper, each with their creations behind them. Niwdar had her Valkyria, unicorns, phoenixes, Titanic whales, representing the force of nature. Managan had her corrupted elementals and legions of blight monsters, the tricorns, dreadwings, manticore, krakens, representing the force of blight.
In the game, Managan was Mythical Rank in both
“Keep the number of units being converted to a minimum,” I shouted my warnings, “Pride can sacrifice them to summon another Demon Lord.” The unit converted by Pride’s
It was then that Sasengun and Ember realized that I had removed all limitations that URLOX had for the dark occultist faction. They gave me a look of doubt and horror, asking as if I had the intention of throwing this match.
“Play it safe. Focus on kiting these Demon Lords,” I shouted, declaring in a volume that Pride could hear, “We have already won this game.”
Pride heard my taunt and took her eyes off the screen for a moment, giving me a death glare. I showed her a thumb down, flashing a smile. Picking the dark occultist faction against me was an act of suicide unless the picker was S0rr0w, I kept telling Pride.
In order for ROC to be a competitive game, URLOX had to make ROC a fair game, balance in power despite their world settings and lore. It was a conundrum for URLOX to balance their game because game-breaking elements such as Divine Relics, the Broken 13 and the Demon Lords existed. As a result, URLOX’s design revolved around their “Equivalent exchange” motto. Every game-breaking advantage had its detriment. Every crippling disadvantage had its benefit. It was a fair chance for any faction to win.
In ROC, Demon Lords were game-breaking units. They could be summoned through a ritual that demanded lives. Lots of lives, the equivalent amount of lives (in URLOX’s perspective) to be exchanged for the game-breaking Demon Lords. Therefore, life was the most important resource for the dark occultist faction to manage.
Isonos used his garudas retinue to scout Pride’s HQ. Pride’s HQ was protected with one of Managan’s lesser copies. She has sacrificed her own units to summon two Demon Lords on the field. She was now depleted of resources and population. I punished Pride for being greedy and extra hasty, showering her fortress with my mages’ sieging spells. Isonos coordinated his attacks on Pride’s granary and villages. Pride’s Demon Lords could survive without food and supplies. Her occultist units and warlord could not.
Pride summoned her wing lion demons to the field using her in-game character’s skill. Using them to scout for the location of our HQ and deal with my mages. Isonos intercepted with his garudas, focusing on protecting my mages while harassing that lesser clone of Managan that was busy protecting Pride’s HQ.
If I could bleed out Pride’s sustaining power, cut off her food and supply production, this battle was already mine. Sasengun quickly caught up with my plan. She avoided locking in combat situations with Pride and Managan’s copies. She split the army to smaller sized units and focus on harassing Pride’s Demon Lords. When Pride discovered our fortress and HQ, trying to siege it, Ember emptied the fortresses immediately. He did not bother defending the fortresses. He kept reallocating and rebuilding the HQ whenever Pride located our HQ.
Pride had her hand full, dealing with me and Isonos besieging her fortresses in sneak attacks and Sasengun’s pesky hit & run army and Ember’s run-first-army. Gradually, her units were reduced to just Pride’s in-game character, three Managan’s clones, her warlord and the wing lion demons. That was when Pride’s defeat was assured but she put up a fight until the end.
The game ended in 17 hours.
I exposed one of the dark occultist’s greatest weaknesses on plain sight for my General Staff and Pride to see. To this faction, life was an invaluable resource. As long as they had enough lives, either from their own ranks of occultists or lives capturing from their enemies, these lives could be used as a sacrifice for the ritual. With the new rules and setting, as long as there were enough lives, this faction could keep on summoning Demon Lords to the field. However…
“I made this faction OP by lifting all the limits and bans on the Demon Lord’s summoning ritual. So what? This faction needs to sacrifice lives to summon the Demon Lords. To them, lives are an invaluable resource. If they don’t have enough of this resource, they cannot summon any Demon Lord. Strip this resource from them. Bleed out their population and sustaining power, directly or indirectly. Completely bleeding them out. When that happens, no more Demon Lord will be summoned to the world. When that happened, our victory cannot be denied. This is how you win against this faction,” I told Pride and my General Staff the reason why the occultist faction had the worst matchup against me.
To win against the occultist faction, there was only one strategy. Depleting lives and preventing the occultist from gaining more lives. It was an unchanging strategy against the occultist faction, a no-brainer. I did not even need to have a strategist at my side to whisper the best strategy into my ears. That also meant I only needed to focus on winning the game through tactics. There was nothing that made a tactician like me happier. I only needed to align my tactics toward that goal.
“Only the true Demon Lord could defeat me using this faction,” I told Pride, knowing what effect my words would have on Pride.
Pride challenged my claim by keep playing the next 500 matches with the same faction. With each loss, Pride improved, gaining a better understanding of this dark occultist faction. She improved to the point where it became hard for me to toy with her and had to take her seriously.
But thanks to Pride’s stubbornness, I was able to show my General Staff the most perfect strategy for a mortal to employ against Demon Lords in a war, using the data from our 500 matches as simulation.
“So our safest bet would be erasing all life forms on Escana, it’s a surefire stalemate,” stated Isonos like a true psychopath, earning disapproval and the stares of pure disgust from all over. Isonos played the villain role to perfection. But, in a nutshell, he was correct.
Wiping out all life forms on Escana would prevent the Demon Lords from using their Divine Dream to mess up the world. Wiping out all life forms on Escana would certainly prevent the Demon Lords from performing sacrificial rituals to gain access to Escana. If they could not come down to Escana, they could do nothing to me and I could do nothing against them. If Death refused to break the rules of ROC, acting as moronic as the Paris of Troy, it was a stalemate. The safest bet.
“You are correct. This is the safest bet,” I agreed with Isonos, flashing a subtle wink to approve Isonos’ mastery at playing the villain role, “But why should I dig myself into a stalemate when I could win? I refuse to record a stalemate against these brain-damaged fools. It’s like public self-humiliation. Are you perhaps asking me to walk the walk of shame?”
I have shown my staffs the perfect way to lose a war and the surefire method to achieve a stalemate. What left for me to do, was carving a path to victory.
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I gave my General Staff another long break from ROC and war-related topics. Enough was enough, 500 of no-break matches of Blindfold ROC was more than enough to make an insane man insane.
I felt exhausted, mentally, completely burnout from discussing war and strategies all the time. Life was a cesspool of stupid shits and shitty things, but it was always larger and greater than just the tastelessness of war, the monochrome of conflict and the monotone of violence. Sometimes, a man could just say, “Fuck that shit,” and chose to indulge himself in the blissfulness of self-deceit, he could find happiness in the putrid cesspool that he called “life”.
The competitions and challenges in playing Blindfold ROC were fun for a while until they became tedious and exhausting. Even s machine needed to rest and cool down in order to perform. People like Isonos literally had no life. Similarly to Misery who had never felt exhausted from sitting in front of a PC screen for a straight year, Isonos never felt tired or exhausted from wars and competitions. People like them had no life. But, I was not them. I had enough.
I spent the first day lazing. Since I could not sleep like Sloth, who could sleep inside a dream through his Authority, I lazed in my bed through an entire day, doing nothing. Then, it quickly became boring. So I watched how my staffs were spending their days.
Sasengun was having a woman-only meeting with various lovers and admirers of mine. Considering Sasengun’s daily pursuit, if she wasn’t punishing herself inside the Cradle, it should be considered a healthy activity. What more, Sasengun was winning Acrẽa’s approval and respect, so that was a win-win in a sense. I had assigned the two of them to the same Sunken Isle Operation, adviser and admiral of my naval force.
Lynx was working overtime with a small section of my R&D Department, helping them solve the case of the Dragon Bane hazard that I had created on Escana, which I have totally forgotten. I had only contained it but ultimately did not solve it. My bad, so very sorry, I apologized inwardly.
Faugus was playing a game of Makrãni chess with Ember while discussing various topics. I turned my attention on Searek. But when I noticed that Searek was inside his room, I stopped watching. He was busy killing himself as usual whenever he retreated to his room. I could not talk him out of it. Not that I knew how. It was either he beat Sanguine’s venom to submission or he allowed it to beat him. I could not teach him how to beat it. There was no correct answer to how a person should accept his reality or reject his truest desires or make peace with himself. His trauma was different from mine. Even if our trauma was exactly the same, our answer to Sanguine’s venom would be vastly different.
I increased the number of training sessions I had with Searek during the break. I trained hard. By “trained hard,” I meant I got my asses absolutely handed to me hard. If I have learned one lesson from our training sessions, “Never pick a fight with an orc, ever.” Without a weapon inside his hands, Searek beat the crap out of me, repeatedly. He did not hold back his jaw shattering punches or killer kicks. It was against the codes of his warriorship to pull back his punches in a fight between warriors.
“Which part of me looks like a warrior?” I could not help but asked myself.
Searek swatted. My spear sang “I believe I can fly.” The quitter. It sang “I believe I can fly” and flew out of my grasp as I watched. It left me behind, unarmed, and with an angry orc to fistfight.
Searek’s calloused fist came again, straight at my already flat broken nose. With tears in the eyes, I dodged, barely in time by investing all of my skill points into luck. I spit a mouthful of blood at Searek’s face, blinding him. Once in a blue moon, I would resort to this trick among my vast arsenal of dirty tricks. Work like a charm every time when used correctly. “Which part of me looks like a warrior to you?” I taunted loudly, escaped Searek’s striking range and began circling for a rear-naked choke.
Searek spoke no word, swinging one fist around in measuring manner while wiping the blood in his eyes with the other. I measured my chance and grabbed his swinging arm, using the momentum and took Searek to the ground. I tried to mount. Tried. “Tried” was the word. The world spun and the ground said “Fuck you” to my feet. Searek sent me flying through brute strength.
“Again,” said Searek, like a metronome every time.
I cursed and cursed and cursed, went on cursing until my anger left me. I snapped my finger to heal myself. Searek bulled headlong, straight at me.
Orcs are unfair. I felt like crying. Before and now.
Combat seasoned orcs like Searek were even more unfair. An orc’s wingspan was his justice, the absolute justice of the strong. Meaning there was no fairness in an orc’s wingspan.
An orc’s fist was Lionel Richie singing, “Hello, is it me you are looking for?” to my face. An orc’s fist was Lionel Richie’s singing if Lionel Richie could only sing “Hello, is it me you are looking for?” to my face. That was what Searek’s fist sounded like when it met my face.
When Searek charged at me, I heard the Beatles singing, “Yesterday, all my troubles seemed far away.” That was the sound of my divorce to reality. It was like watching an angry elephant charging straight at me. A man could not outrun an elephant. So he could only stand, freeze and hope for the best. Meaning his life was already in God’s hands. Except God said, “Go to hell” to me, then sent me to a wrong address like a blind UBER driver. I thought I heard my neck made a crisp snapping sound.
“Again,” said Searek. His voice confirmed to me that I did not mishear that sickening snapping sound.
I snapped my finger and started cursing, tightened my grip on the long spear. I charged, spear rushing at Searek with reckless abandon. Sometimes, the only option for a person to avoid being charged down by an angry elephant was charging headlong at it.
Make sense, right? I inwardly asked myself, agreeing to ill-logic with ill-logic.
Feinting an abandoning stab, I gave Searek my best jab. Unless my eyes were playing a trick on me, Sanguine’s venom showed me the familiar <1 damage> message. I channeled the fruit of my training into a flurry of jabs. It was the same story. Same old. Same old <1 damage><1 damage><1 damage><1 damage>.
Searek leaped forward just as I was pulling back my spear for another jab. I could hear that “Hello, is it me you are looking for?” miles before it happened.
And it did. Lionel Richie was singing Hello and I was floored headfirst with a sickening crack reverberated throughout my body.
“Never fight an orc, ever,” I told myself.
After another one hundred sets of “Again,” Searek stopped the session.
Searek commended on my improvement with the spear, ghostly improvement, invisible shits that I could not see with my eyes. He told me to start my training with the dagger.
I initially gave Searek a look of “Really, bro,” but then my mouth was already on the job. This was like telling me to play ROC with a guitar controller instead of using a mouse and keyboard. “If I could not beat you with a long spear, how could I beat you with a dagger?” I could not help but ask while drawing a replica of Enfermé.
“This part, Shandorei,” replied Searek, staring at me with a commanding look. Emotionlessly. His reply was completely disconnected to my question, making me thinking that Searek would make a perfect politician or President’s spokesperson in real life if he could make this kind of answer consistently on a day to day basis.
Searek repeated, “This part, Shandorei,” loudly thumping his chest with his fist. “You asked me which part of you looks like a warrior to me. This part, Shandorei. Here, you have not given up. You still have not given up on winning no matter how many times I beat you. Here, you still think of winning. A person is not a warrior because he could strike down all of his foes. A person is a warrior because he could stand up no matter how many times he was beaten.”
I listened and froze in silence. Sometimes, Searek surprised the hell out of me by simply saying what he thought.
Do you see this, Sanguine, Rasahlu, Yasubotay? This is what will kill you. Not me. Not by my hands. Karma. This is why the like of you will fall.
Unless my calculation was way off, Searek would be the third one. The third mortal to master the use of Sanguine’s venom like an instrument of war.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Pride knocked on my door and invited me to a Discuss & Review session of our past games. I gladly accepted. I pointed out her mistakes just as she pointed out mine. We discussed what we did right and what we did wrong. We became our own critics. Pride revealed her understanding of my staffs’ abilities, strength and weakness through a detailed report. I immediately sounded the alarm within myself, reminding myself that I must fight Pride as a strategist and a tactician, that or a certain defeat was waiting at the end of our game. Pride had already figured out Sasengun’s tendency and Isonos’ habit. The advantages of unknown factors were reaching their limit. Swapping gears soon would not give me an edge.
Knowing that, still I had a long and detailed talk with Pride about why she lost and why I won.
Every Demon Lord appeared in the game was considered a nuke. But having more nukes did not necessarily mean better, that, was especially true in URLOX’s game. Sometimes, having more nukes in this world meant less.
Having a strategic weapon or a tactical weapon was different from having the absolute assurance of winning the war. Possessing a strategic weapon and using that weapon strategically was two different issues. Therefore, the act of giving a nuke to a brain-dead moron would not make that brain-dead moron stronger. It only made him more blinded to his arrogance and weaknesses. Giving Bloodbeard a nuke, giving Ekar a nuke, that changed nothing. They will die regardless, deceived and killed by me. Even if URLOX gave more Authorities to Death, all the Authorities in this world, I would make the black dream mine, one way or another.
But, Pride already understood this matter and fact before I showed her how powerless the dark occultist faction was against me.
Possessing a nuke and knowing how to use that nuke were two separated matters. Pride was the only Demon Lord who understood this fact without me spelling to her. Lust was the only one who was spoonfed this fact. Envy was given hints to make out this fact on his own. Greed and Acrẽa learned it the hard way. Managan was made to remember these lessons through the brute force of repetitions and conditioning.
I had my suspicion before but until now, I was not able to confirm my suspicion. URLOX called Pride the “Golden Lioness” and the “Foe of imperfection” in the poem. Not once they called Pride by her better-known moniker, the Perfect Demon Lord.
The Golden Lioness Pride
The Sword of Dawn
The Bride of Twilight,
The Foe of imperfection
Either her or the inevitable of life
URLOX called Pride “The Foe of Imperfection.” It took a long time but I finally had enough evidence to draw my conclusion.
Pride learned. She had the desire to learn and she was happy from a mortal. And she was especially good at it, similarly to Heavennet.
Learning and practicing was the foe of imperfection. Practice makes perfect. The ability to learn was one of humanity’s greatest gifts.
I completely understood why Pride was totally comfortable with the fact that I, a mortal had managed to trap her and denied her of her Authority. While the other Demon Lords were insulted, hollered with rage and curses, Pride acted like she was in control, cool as a cucumber. While Death and the other Immortals looked at me as “URLOX’s Champion,” Pride saw me differently.
Pride was the only Immortal who showed genuine interest in Earth, my memories and experiences living on Earth. She, despite not representing Civilization or being a goddess of Civilization, was happily discussing the constitution of civilization, like laws, judicial systems, faiths, cultures, economy, and racial values, with me while the God of Civilization himself did not bother having a proper discussion with me about that topic. She, despite not being the goddess of justice, was actively discussing with me about the nature Justice and what justice meant while the God of Justice himself had to be asked. Pride was the only Immortal who showed me a genuine interest in art, music, dance and other pursuits.
Pride learned. And she learned actively. While other Immortals, who were being trapped inside this Divine Dream right now, were still screaming that I was merely “Lucky” in throwing the net once, and managed to trap all related parties, both players and referee, that involved with this fuck-up game of URLOX, Pride was already asking, “How did Eogaill pull this feat off?”
Between Heavennet and Pride, I could not tell which one of them was more formidable. But I knew, I have already created my own monster. And I was glad that I did. Taming this monster was the final qualification to be earned before entering this war, my final tick box.
Wrath got beaten to submission to be trained. Lust surrendered unconditionally without a fight. Envy signed a partnership contract without a challenge. Acrẽa, Greed, and Managan merely presented a test of patience. The rest, disappointment, cakewalks, cupcakes, clowns. Beating them inside this dream was not an accomplishment, a test, or a challenge. Beating them inside this dream did not prove that I was superior to them in any manner, yet.
It was a clash of arrogance.
A mortal’s arrogance was that he was the master of his choices, future, destiny, life, and death. The arrogance of a mortal was that he was a free man, free to not worship the Immortals, free to be Fearless, free to show his middle finger to an Immortal’s arrogance in defiance, free to be himself, and free to keep his memory and identity true until his inevitable demise. The arrogance of a mortal was that he had no need for an Immortal to intervene with his life or death.
The arrogance of an Immortal was that he should be worship, feared and respected by a mortal. An immortal’s arrogance was that he could control the life and death of the mortals to his intention and greater purpose, similarly to the arrogance of earthling men toward insects and animals and lesser life forms. The arrogance of an Immortal was that mortals only existed for his greater purpose and pursuit, and he should lead them with his purpose, the lesser beings.
In a clash of arrogance, only one would win. What was the better way to win a clash of arrogance as a mortal man other than targeting the most arrogant Immortal first? Winning a symbolic victory was just as important as winning the physical one.
Fighting arrogance with arrogance was my arrogance and cunning. Creating my own monster in order to tame it was my arrogance. Falling in love with Pride while doing that was my stupidity.