The door closed, and Brian’s heart settled again to its normal pace. That had been quite the experience. It was his first time meeting royalty – both back on Earth and here in Thoum. He could feel the powerful nature of the man, even without his sight. Especially through that “Echo” encroaching him.
The sensation… it had felt as if his body had been in the grasp of a giant – quite literally.
If that was a king… how strong would a Gaian calamity – an actual King or a Queen– be? He just hoped it wouldn't be his problem to find out. They’d be a problem even if they were just as strong as the chief.
Ur’s retainers had thrown him a barrage of questions, such as: “Did you really spend ten years in the tutorial alone?” Followed by “That's not possible!” And the casual “You look skinny ey, you should eat more.”
The last one felt particularly personal.
He felt the need to hide in a burrow, for once grateful his hearing wasn't back in full. A misplaced rock tripped him, and he slammed against a sturdy yet soft surface. Instinctively, his arm snaked backward, hitting it, fluttering against the boundaries of a dress. Without his claws, he could feel he dealt no damage. His wrists met together as a hand big enough to crush his head locked them in place. With a soft voice, the lady in Ur’s mask spoke. “Strong one, that was not an attack. I apologize, please do not view me as a threat – and you lot!” Brian flinched for the noise, ears ringing. The sound traveled and bounced through the small corridor, giving Brian an estimate of its size.
A chorus of voices resounded in unison. “Yes, master!”
“Do not bother our guest with your mindless questions, is that clear?”
Again, they answered as one.
As Ur let his wrists go with a flick of his hand, Brian grimaced. It was unnerving him how much he had been relying on his goblin Skill to see around.
Soon after, they parted ways, going in different paths. Brian's flawless sense of direction had already mapped the way to the audit he was in just now, up to the room leading them outside. He could taste freedom, but before reaching it, they turned left.
He could only comply.
His ears picked up the sound of two people trailing them from behind, moving as though they believed to be furtive. Something incorporeal wooshed through his body as his heartbeat quickened – then the sensation faded as it went the other way, continuing to travel on. Brian’s talonsless foot slid on the slick marble, blind as he was he managed to regain his footing at the last second. His head heated up as Indomitable Human Spirit tried to figure out what was going on before vanishing away.
The other person peeking from the corner wasn't so lucky. “Yaap!” The young man heard a tumbling sound and a groan as whatever was observing him bit the ground.
“Arabelle, right?” Alain asked from above. Being blind really put into perspective how tall the butler was. “Aren't you busy? Didn’t your master just tell you to leave Sir Brian alone, and, by definition, yours truly as well?” Is this irritation?
Arabelle. Brian recognized her voice as one of the six disciples of Ur, the one that had asked him a question before.
She feigned ignorance as she replied with a slight lisp, posing a question herself. “Ay, you're going up, right? In the saloon?”
“... who told you that?”
“Well, Master Ur habitually uses your examples to explain complex spells to us. He frequently talks of how you eat like a starve –” Brian could feel her gaze as his brain heated up. “Moreover, your little fella needs some skin on his bones. And additional skin over his skin, and then some more. So, that means you are going up, no?”
“... I'll need to have a chat with Ur, face to face. Yes, we are going up, so don't – you know what… suit yourself.”
“Yay! Thanks!”
Where is the other one? Brian wondered. He swiveled his head, trying to pick up any fading footsteps, but he couldn’t hear anything. Then, as she got closer, he noticed something weird about hers.
Brian was left with the awkward task of being silent, noncommittal plastered on his face.
They continued marching until a powerful voice boomed ahead. It was hearthy and friendly. “Ha! It really did not take long, you weren't lying.” It got closer. “You didn’t need to come here, I would've waited out of the room like the little doorman that I am. Better for me! More time for booze.” He heartily laughed. “Shift’s over. I'm covered for the week.”
Brian recognized him as the onion guard.
“Hey, big guy. Still have them on? Care to give me the bracelets – uuh, manacles? You're still alive, so no need to keep them on.”
“How… Do I remove them?” Talking to strangers – well, everyone was a stranger – but talking to stranger strangers was one the biggest hurdles he had to cross. Something he wasn’t going to get used to any time soon.
“Huh? What do you mean? You can just slip them off, you know? Don't have bracelets back at home? Oh, greetings, Arabelle, what brings you here, al –”
I could've taken them off beforehand? His rage flared up while simultaneously being processed and compartmentalized by his Skill, spreading it throughout his whole body, minimizing the effects of it. Right. They don't know I'm blind. Without further ado, he slipped some thin fingers on his wrists… and removed the restrictions. They slipped off, just as if they themselves didn’t want to stay a moment longer. His human Skill thrummed against the confines of his skull as it protested with all its might, but as there was no danger associated with it, Brian just allowed himself a moment of respite, ignoring it. As soon as they came off it shut up, and he was both glad to have listened to it and regretful for having acted as he wanted.
The world warped, twisted, and he bent as he clamped down on his lips, indenting them. Bile was lurching up, filling his esophagus.
Brian's hands trembled. The handcuffs fell on the ground with a thud as he tried to grasp for something, anything. He could feel his bones lengthen, his fingers sharpen and his toes spreading further apart – the pain of torn limbs to shreds was nothing in comparison to this.
His frame thickened as he felt the boundaries of his loose dress tighten up again, especially the corset on his waist. Tears wilted down from his eyes as rays of blinding light momentarily blinded him, so he just shut them up as sweat pooled under him. His hearing returned to the full, and the overwhelming dissonance between that and this was overwhelming. He could pick up the sound of people walkig across other corridors.
He tried opening his eyelids, but even in such a dim corridor, they felt like they had been pressed up by a torch. “Is he all right?”
“One of his Skills fundamentally changed his body. He’ll be fine, lad.” Brian, tired as he was, didn’t notice a hand slipping down and fastening on his back, helping him to get up. Unconsciously, his clawed hands found a hold and drew blood – he could taste it in the air. His knees straightened, but he didn’t attack further. After some tense moments, he almost felt whole agian. His unguals clinked on the floor like coins rolling off a table.
“There, are you feeling any better now?” A concerned visage asked, inches from his face. He didn’t dare open his eyes, and just nodded as he distanced himself from her. He heard the sound of the bracelets being picked up, and he hurriedly asked the questions that now plagued his mind. “Do… I need them… again… for the… king?”
The onion man responded with his usual nonchalance. “Oh, don’t worry, you won’t be meeting His Majesty for a long time”
Should I tell him? An inferno raged behind his eyes. Yes. “He. Promised.”
“Well, now that’s odd.” His armor clanked. “Really, now? You really are a big shot.” His voice was closer, the smell of his haggard breath on full display. He hadn't heard him move at all. “Hey, there’s a rumor saying you’re a bit special. That true?” Brian had opened his eyes, but could only see an outline of a man with a hand near his mouth, something rotund under an armpit. “Bac–”
“I know, I know, Alain. I’m kidding.” He raised an armored arm up and walked off, already far away.
His voice sounded again, just before he turned a corner. “You won’t need them the next time.” He disappeared “...be alright!”
Brian croaked his eyes open, dry tears on his cheeks. “Well, let’s get movin’, shall we? Lunch’s not going to wait for us if some lousy maids clean everything up!”
“Watch your mouth.”
“You’re a butler, not a maid!”
The corridor they continued walking on was unfamiliar to Brian, as they had strayed even further than before from the entrance doors. Windowless walls adorned the halls, giving them a serene vibe, yet, some natural light managed to trickle in from unseen passageways. No paintings or statues adorned the place – seems like different people are in charge of the interiors.
“Are there… really skills… that can interfere… with the… system?”
“Oh! That's something I can answer! I am allowed to, right?” He glanced to the left, where a girl with a big mouth and curved horns on the side of her head came into vision. He had almost screamed moments before. She looked like a demon.
“I'm not your retainer. Do as you please. Or would you rather go back and ask your master? I will certainly be waiting for you."
Even Brian's starved brain understood the annoyance layered behind it. All Arabelle did was to bail a fist in the air, dictating an immaginal victory as they continued approaching their destination. Her pale skin seemed frail, white and thin as it was. Her anatomy was strange. She spotted an elongated torso, along with a lengthening of her limbs past her knees and elbows. It made her walking on all fours all the more bizarre. So it wasn’t two people.
“Cool! So, yeah. I’ll answer your question… if you don't mind?” Her raven hair was tied to a bun behind her head as she cheerfully smiled. She was bleeding from her right shoulder.
Arabelle raised a finger while her other three limbs propelled her forward, like a quadruped animal. “All right, quiz time! Say, a mind mage comes and does bad stuff like eating kids and kidnapping princesses and whatnot, you might feel compelled to go and save them, aw, that’d be so romantic, so chiva – don’t look at me like that – my point is, them being a mind mage, they’d be able to manipulate you, because that’s what they do, duh. And, while only “quite advanced” mind mages could start to mess you up real bad, illusions are everywhere. Wow, my previous metaphor was completely pointless! They can’t quite replicate the sensation you feel when you get a system message, but it’s close.” She put her hand down as they had to take a turn, then put it back up, animating her gestures with vigor. “Close doesn’t cut it, aaaand their victims usually snap out of their daze when a real status message shows up.”
“Remarkable. You’re worse at explaining than I am.”
“Oh, shut up, I'm still an apprentice, for now...” She put a strand of hair behind her ear. Brian found it oddly charming. “So, the answer to your question is no. The system is absolute, ay, you cannot tinker with it. If your question had been, “oh, sweet and beautiful grand magus Arabelle, may I know if someone could be cut off indirectly from the system, instead?” The answer would’ve still been a flat no.”
Is everyone around here a weirdo? This is not how normal interactions go, right? Am I misunderstanding something?
“BUT! “ He flinched. “It is true that mind mages and illusionists – let’s throw them in because why not – can interfere with your ability to gain skills by making you resurface some, ugh… traumas, or making you think you already have a particular ability – contrary to popular belief, if you think you’re a great swordsman, and you think you think you have the skill while you really don’t – you’re not going to be the real big menace you are. Yes, Alain, I think I am worse than you at explainations.”
She sharply looked to the right, her long arms moving slowly to account for the speed of her waking partners. “I don’t know your status. Although I am quite curious about it, I won’t ask you to show it to me. But, do you perhaps possess any natural skills? That’s what we have.”
“No... but I got… offered one.”
Her eyes seemed to spark with light as Alain opened a door. She had to turn her whole torso in a strange angle – entering from its side as they were. Arabelle opened her mouth but she composed herself as someone crossed their paths. Once they were alone again, she leaned in. Brian reflexively sidestepped away. Alain appeared to be listening intently, yet he remained silent “Really? But it’s been a day! That’s awesome! Did you refuse it or let it pending? Can I see it? How did you get it?”
Definitely not how normal social interactions go. “I got… “ He grimaced.” I forgot… I wasn’t really… paying attention.” A pause. His brain blazed on fire. “I remember now. Dismantling. I got it by skinning the dead… bunny babies I had just killed… and then eaten. I refused… the skill.“
“That’s, huh. That’s something. For sure.” She remarked. Arabelle was even more inquisitive than the butler was. Her white dress billowed around, changing colors every now and then as it clung to her weird predatory body.
“Did you have experience with… skinning beforehand?”
“Every… day. To… to get to… the good parts.”
“Ok, that’s really gross. You did well to refuse it, it would’ve been a pain to remove. Although, you could’ve let it pending, you know? Well, of course you don’t” She pried a particularly tough booger from her nose as her nostrils bulged. Then she ate it. “They can stack, so it’s always best to leave them there as you don't know the next time they’ll appear when you’ll inevitably perform the same action – believe me, more than one person had a change of heart.”
“Why… didn’t I…” He inhaled a lungful of air, talking so much hurt his vocal chords. “Didn't learn a skill… related to crawling… after I did so for hours? Right after… I was transported here.”
“Ah, I’ve heard of that. That’s commendable!” Her shoulders rotated clockwise from his position, making her trut forward like a horse. “Short answer; I don’t know! Long answer; III doooont knooooowwww!” she chuckled, her laughter sounded like a goose honking. “It’s probably because you were scared or confused. Rarely can you learn skills in disorienting environments or when you’re distressed. Alain, are we close yet? I’m hungry!”
“Sir, It could also be because, as she had explained before, traumas can influence skill progression, or inhibit it from showing up at all. You skinning something probably… regretfully… brought up good memories, and thus, you got offered one. From what you told us, it was also something you’re already proficient in. You crawling along wasn’t something to be happy about. I can’t imagine how stressful appearing in an unfamiliar environment was. Yes, arabelle, I did just ignore you.”
“Wah. Brian, don’t grow up to be like him, all right?” She lightly hopped, her muscled form shifting in an animalistic way. “Then, as you only have racial skills right now, something that’d require further study down the road, you probably noticed they are all related to monsters or creatures. They’re internal, so you won’t learn a writing skill or a dismantling one from them. Uh, unless a monster is born right with those, but that’s unlikely. Uh, is it?“
That makes sense. It had to be something you could learn by yourself. Dismantling wasn’t an integral part of a Goblin, but they could learn it. And it’s not like you needed a dismantling skill to learn how to do it.
When is something considered a skill?
“We’re here.” Brian’s attention resumed to the wizened gentleman. A grating, scraping sound echoed as he opened a door to a cramped spiral staircase. It stretched both upward and down to the pits of hell. Seeing bottomless darkness, Brian took an instinctive step forward before his brain boiled and he froze. The young man blinked. Right. I’m not back at home, thanks. Amidst everything happening around him, deep down he seeked to be back alone. He had been so enthralled by the dark that he had almost thrown himself to it.
No one seemed to have noticed it.
“Arabelle.”
“Ay, on it!” She cheered and the room glowed bright as if a miniature sun had materialized in it. “Oops, too bright, sorry!” It throbbed as she lowered it to the intensity of a candle. Alain closed the door, further reducing the brightness in the room, then they went up. For Brian, walking up some stairs was a strange experience – his feet had minimal room to be placed on a step, talons scraping them as part of his back foot lay suspended in the air. It was the same repetitive motion each time, over and over again – if he missed a step he hwould go tumbling down into the darkness. Arabelle trotted ahead of him. She looked like a nimble cat as she moved her whole torso to walk, hands lifting to move her, turning along with the staircase.
His eyes were fixed to the small orb-like shape floating over her head, flickering as shadows of their bodies danced in the tight space. He could feel a strange energy radiating from it.
They reached the top, a small sigh of relief rolled out of his lips. Small and bolted with iron nails on its frames to punt it in, the door looked beyond locked.
If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
Alain knocked on it with his pristine white gloves. Light stormed from it as it opened, Arabelle winking the spell out of existence. The redheaded butler let everyone pass with a polite bow before strolling himself on, forward. Brian's head scanned the place, mapping the layout, what is this place?
The room they were in was small but clean. Tidy and polishd. Locker rooms and brooms were arranged near the walls as chairs and tables stood in the middle, some items on top of them. No one was in the room. “This... was my personal hell, let's get out of here, I don't want to see any more cleaning tools for the rest of my entire life.” What stood out was a single ornate door bulging out in stark blandness of it all. “This is the butler's cleaning quarters, beyond that is the ballroom, the saloon. I can already imagine the mess up there.” From behind him, Brian could see his cheeks stretch a bit on the sides. “Not my problem anymore.” He opened this door as well. Immediately, he was awestruck. The room didn’t feel like a room, it was bigger than any stadium, any circus, any house Brian had ever seen. It was at the length of several hundred tunnels grouped together as one.
“Sir Brian, we have done all we had to do for the day. Aside from your bout, which is not my problem. Again, someone will come here – yes, they probably know that we are here already – and escort you to where you’ll need to be.”
Alain let them pass forward before he closed the door, he didn’t hear him lock it back. Arabelle waved at them as she went for a table, she started piling up plate after plate on the ground without looking at its contents, eagerness stamped below her curved horns.
The place was cubical in nature with a quarry hole in the middle, overlooking an ornate room below. Everything looked like the remnants of a carnival, with cutlery on the ground and stains on the tablecloths.
Alain yelled from a considerable distance away. ”Sir, This room is directly above where you spoke with His Majesty moments ago. I shall go and feast. These old bones need nourishment, if you're not squ, feel free to indulge in anything you may desire. I’m glad this place is not my responsibility.”
The first thing brian did was to check the ivory railings near the hole in the center… his eyes widened by the sheer magnitude of what lay below. This… he couldn’t even think as to why a room this big was a necessity. It was a street long. How had they moved so quickly near the center of the room before? Speaking of that, the young man turned his bald head to where the king had been a moment before. A throne. An actual throne sood mighty, raised in a dias. They really like wood. More chairs, equally as well designed but not as important looking, dotted its rear. They were all empty now.
Vertigo gripped his heart in a vice and he let go of the railing as he felt his hands and feet grow fuzzy from the height.
Hand covering his mouth, he faced the inside of the second floor, the room he was in right now. Brian took a good look around. Arabelle was stuffing her face with more meat than was legally allowed and Alain stood with a shining tray on his hands, piling food from a multitude of delectable options with metal tongs, clanking them together, smiling. He went back and forth from the assortment of piled up tables to choose what he wanted. Brian just approached the nearest table and looked at it. Water stained the skewed cloth as crumbles lay everywhere, white plates and cutlery thrown in the middle of the table without real care. Though, almost everything had been finished.
It really was as if… an animal whose name he couldn't quite recall right now – surged through the place. Was this the commotion he heard before when he was below? Passing pieces of white cream and strawberries that were mushed together on the ground to a paste, he approached another table. This one had some pieces of vegetables left untouched on the pristine side of one plate. A huge mound of veggies looked at him, their beautiful roast and char on display. He grabbed the whole thing and went under the table, lifting the low hanging cloth with a hand. His back rested against the central pillar as most of the light above was shielded by his cloth fortress. Food on his hands, he was at peace.
Or he tried to. He heard footsteps.
“Hey, Brian! Can I join you?”
Arabelle swept the cloth away like a boulder parting a water stream. His body hair tensed up, but he didn’t move. “I thought you looked a little lonely. Are you all right?”
He opened his mouth and closed it. Yeah, he was lonely. He desperately wanted human contact, he wanted to talk to someone. It infuriated him to great extents to know his life had gone down to the gutters due to whatever had thrown him to hell. The inability to express how his own feelings soured him even further.
She sat next to him like a dog, and started munching on pieces of chicken and well fried fish. His stomach grumbled.
“A–Arabelle.” She turned her head, horns scraping the underside of the circular table, no doubt scratching it. Just do it. “What was… the sensation I felt when… Iwas talking to… the king? Mana?”
“Shmuhh! Humuu!” She swallowed a big chunk of meat as it comically descended down her gullet. “That hit the spot. It's actually not a Skill! They call it Echo! Or Aura, it's whatever. With “they” I mean not us mages. It’s what Alain used to trip me earlier! An echo is different from mana – what I used earlier to lighten up that creepy corridor. Gives me the creeps. I'm not so well versed about it. You go and ask Alain, he's the bro – nope. That won't do”. Her eyes turned into crescent moons as she put out a hand to cover her mischievous grin “That won't do. You'll need to figure that out by yourself.”
She burped, then resumed eating. Her light gray hands picked everything apart with precision. “The Echo. An Echo. Eh, no.” She put herself in a cross legged position, muscles shifting underneath. “Right, let’s start from the beginning. Basically, everyone’s born with that stuff. But you need some kind of talent to make it bloom, or hard work. Like your muscles!” She glanced at him. “Not like your muscles… it is fundamentally different from mana, that’s what my master uses to reinforce his body! He can use both, which is SO unfair!”
So Ur is on steroids. Magical ones.
“Hey, let’s go ask the geezer! Don’t tell him I called you like that – that's what my master calls him.” She grabbed him by one of his wrists as he tried to escape. Her strength was off the charts, but weaker than others he had felt. He gave up and let himself be guided by her, tranquility spreading through him like a wave. Plate in hand, he tried to not let it fall on the ground as they walked across an arrangement of tables placed in rows. They finally found their prey, Alain, and approached from their low vantage point. Arabelle did a roll around some spilled water on the ground and entered the table cloth with Brian. She let his wrist and resumed eating there, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
“Sir… what are you two doing?”
“Hey, I'm not a weirdo!”
“I'm afraid I didn't say that. Does your new magic allow you to read people's thoughts as well?”
“Hey, that's mean.” The young man then glanced around, seeing Alain’s lower side politely sitting from there. Brian suddenly felt like he didn't want to be here.
He glimpsed at his butler’s pants. Tight fitting, shiny, and almost chromatic, they looked as pristine to him as he’d ever seen them. Despite his presumed aversion to cleaning he was the most spotless person he had ever seen.
He hoped maids wouldn’t decide to storm right at this moment to clean the room.
“So… what was it?” Alain asked as he continued to cut pieces of his food with his knife. His scraping barely audible.
“Actually, Brian here wanted to tell you something?
“Oh? He did? Or did he ask something to you and you stormed out under my table as I'm eating my salad in peace?”
“Uh – well” She stuttered. “Brian, help me!”
From the frying pan to the bonfire.
“She… is lying” Brian saw her widen her eyes, just a little. And he couldn't help but smirk about it. “But… I did have a question… in mind. I'm hoping… you could solve it.”
Alain's shoed foot moved with unnatural alacrity and pointed at him from under the table, like a gun. “Sir, that's wonderful, you're opening up. Let's hear it.”
Brian was indeed growing more comfortable. He didn't know if it was because of his Skill or anything else. Nevertheless…
Pretending to be human might be the way forward.
“What was… that energy the king… was using?” He took a bite of the veggie on his plate. So good! “It felt like… it was constricting me, especially when I told… that ridiculous lie.”
“Oh? You could feel it with such precision? Remarkable.” His foot slid in the air, remaining unnaturally still in front of Arabelle.
“And you, Arabelle, pardon my rudeness – but I'd rather eat since I'm here.” Other squelching sounds resonated above. “Have you already explained it to him?”
She raised her hands to the leg in front of her petite face, mouth agape. “Yes, but I didn’t tell him how to try to do it! He’s still an Echo virgin!”
“Truly, madame?”
“I'm not that old!”
“That's… lamentably, not entirely inaccurate.” Brian watched her frown as another shoe appeared, pointing at Brian. The underside of the table seemed much more cramped as of now. “That was what we call an Echo.” He crunched on something that seemed very much like bones before resuming. “It's a part of you, much like your Skills are now, Sir. Once you have it, you can't unlearn it – think of it like yourself, but everywhere around you at the same time. It is a sort of field power, once unlocked, and properly mastered, you become the world itself. Usually, it is almost impossible to make it work along with mana, unlike what Madam Arabelle here thinks. I can think of two cases off the top of my head. Ur is one such a case, he always is… when I was a kid he was already a Magus.” He tapped his left shoe with the other one. “ I'm surprised you can already feel it around you. Echo allows their users to do a multitude of different things. The effects of your Aura are usually determined by blood, but not always – they're unpredictable, such as height. Yeah. Good comparison, old me.” He audibly sipped something. “Aaah. I'm an outlier compared to my family, for example. Mine speeds up everything it touches. It is not good for my old heart.”
Brian pondered in his mind. Was this how he didn't have Echo even a decade of hell? Would he need some kind of technique to…
Killing had been his meditation for years. A way to seep out the madness.
“Are you… going to teach me?”
“Regrettably, I've never done so in my entire life. I could, but I'm afraid I would just lead you astray. Sir, if I may – your scheduled bout is in a few hours, after that, you will be assigned to a tutor, or a teacher, that will assist you to the best of their abilities. You could ask them.”
Arabelle interrupted the moment by pinching her nose, waving her hands in front of her. “I don't want it anymore, you want this?” She pointed to her food.” Your foot is too close to my face. Let's trade.” She had approached Brian so close that he could smell her – her aroma reminded him of freshly cut grass. She raised a hand, which had a chicken leg in it, still dripping with oil.
Brian just stared at her.
“You don’t want it, you vegetarian now?”
“I've had it up to… my neck with meat.”
She picked up a full broccoli head. Beautiful and green, it looked like a verdant tree. “Oh right, here, you can have mine.” Her bright smile filled a piece of his heart as they ate under the table.
“I… don't like broccoli.”
He took it anyway.
***
It turned out maids – and butlers, did arrive, though at that point all three of them looked catatonic in their own way. Alain had stopped speaking, hands folded on his lap, breathing long lungfuls of air through his mouth. Brian could feel the butler’s surroundings tremble around him, shimmering, as if he was a source of great heat. He himself felt full to the brim, belly bulging against the confines of his corset – Brian guessed he had just gained a good chunk of his original weight back.
He was pacing around the room when the cleaning staff came.
Arabelle had fallen asleep completely, long hands curled near her horns to shield her face from the light above, body splayed like a murder victim on the ground. Red liquid stains matted her dress. Wine, hopefully.
Brian had looked around the room, finding it even bigger than it seemed moments before. A cautionary stroll around the hole in the middle took a considerable amount of time, it must’ve taken a half hour when he looped back – yet he still felt engorged.
The young man was so stuffed with vegetables and cheese he had heard the cleaning party at the last moment, and he lazily rolled under a table, hiding from the servants. Indomitable Human Spirit hadn’t flared up – but best to be cautious.
He clawed a slit on the tablecloth, pllacing his brown eye in to peruse the happenings in the room. Maids and butlers entered the room with items he couldn’t identify. Without missing a beat, they danced through the tables, cleaning fallen refreshments with the nimbleness of hundreds of hours behind their age.
Since they had stepped in the room, a good chunk of time had passed. Despite this, no one approached his table, avoiding it like the plague, cleaning adjacent chairs and polishing nearby trays instead. The sky outside of the gargantuan windows darkened to a vivid lavender color, bathing the room in a cool tint. The young man had considered, just for a moment, that the servants had been using Echo – wondering if everyone in the royal palace was a powerhouse.
Instead, they avoided him because his legs were just sticking out of the table cloth.
After a while, Alaine had opened his eyes, and Brian saw his paunch deflate in real time from his hiding spot. He really hoped for the Red Line that the butler was the anomaly, and not the norm, otherwise they might find themselves in the midst of a food shortage.
His ears picked up the sound of stealthy steps approaching his position, and he quickly did a 180, slitting another little vertical window for his eye. He noticed a different uniform walking amid the black and white of the stewards, hands behind their back as their steps propelled them forward by several strides as if they were walking on a cloud. Their sly smile plastered on their plastic face as they bowed in an exaggerated manner. The eyes never left Brian’s during the maneuver. “Brian Spencer, I assume. People around here call me Kael, I am pleased to make your acquaintance.” Their streaked hair swirled behind a colorful dress. “I shall be your proxy for the bout in approximately…” They narrowed their eyes even further, resembling the slit Brian was observing them from.” … approximately two hours from now. We have ample time. I apologize for ruining your moment.” He couldn’t tell if he was speaking to a man or a woman. Even their voice sounded androgynous. Their back straightened up, standing proud. “Your new opponent has been chosen.” Even though Brian had no desire to entertain them, his interest was piqued. Just a little.
He looked at Kael in a new light – light gray skin, complementing a white floral dress bathed in the dark lavender hue of the light, they looked as spotless as Alain. Their purple hair glistened under the light, appearing even darker. Heavy make up was put in place, heightening their beauty to an unnatural degree.
Probably a big shot.
Kael resumed speaking, their voice soothing as honey.
It was sickeningly sweet.
“As the recipient of the duel, you already have the right to decide the location of the bout as you deem and see fit. If that is possible, I’ll need an answer in roughly… ten minutes. I understand your indecision, I would be plagued by doubts in your stead, too. I shall go and inform your personal retainer, Alain Ae Kchon, instead. I promise you it won’t take long.” No, take as much as you need. They didn’t wait for Brian’s response, and with a swaying of their hips they resumed walking in the direction of the seated Alain. Butlers and maids made way as if Kael was Moses parting the sea. They disappeared as Brian’s vision was again stolen by a fluttering of uniforms deftly moving in the room.
His Skill remained silent, indicating this man didn’t have ulterior nefarious motives.
Brian wasn’t much of a thinker – he preferred bashing his own head against a wall multiple times rather than finding an ulterior pathway, even with a chance of failure. Nevertheless, even his withered brain thought it had picked something in the conversation. Your “new” challenger? Did it mean the lousy voice he had heard during the king’s recess had given up? It was too bad, since they sounded an impulsive bunch, but ultimately it didn’t make a difference. He had no clue who he had been either way.
He scratched his balls.
Arabelle had woken up in a daze, surrounded by spooked maids as she had started shouting, looking for something, swinging her bun left and right, to no avail. He hoped to be as carefree as her, one day. She jumped and stormed off, taking the same door they had come from to leave in a daze.
A flock of bright grizzled red hair appeared in a sea of smockings, Kael at his side. This time the cleaning maids stopped on the spot. They turned toward him and bowed their heads, greeting him with the same gestures Brian had seen Gaians do. Alain did not greet them back. Having both of them side to side put into perspective just how tall Alain’s frame was, standing a full head taller than the bout’s proxy.
They approached his table. Brian just noticed Alain was soundlessly dragging a chair in one hand, and a bottle of wine in the other. He had removed his formal shirt, remaining in a sweatshirt that exposed his whole upper body. You could see individual stands of muscle underneath his ashen skin.
He placed the chair with care in front of the table, and started chugging the bottle, legs splayed wide, seated. Kael glanced at him but hadn’t said anything, waiting for the retainer to finish the whole drink. The purple haired Gaian drew a square in front of them in a fluid motion, using only their hands.They then traced a finger on its shimmering outlines, which lighted up, as they came in contact with their magenta nails. Hovering in place, it resembled a piece of paper. The slit-eyed fellow had conjured something from thin air.
Alain raised an eyebrow as he finished the last drop, touching the conjuration. His gloved digit passed through as if it was made by smoke. He placed the bottle inside of his pockets, and it slid down into the void.
An uncomfortable silence stretched as Kael’s mouth twitched, wanting to speak – and never doing so as they waited for the butler to give the first word.
It never came. Through the slit in the cloth Brian could see that Alain’s yawn prompted a clenching of Kael’s fists. He was acting strange. Instead of speaking, the proxy conjured a floating purple quill, and started writing on the piece of the… document?
Brian would’ve rather talked with Arabelle instead. Alas…
Mouth dry, the young man opened his mouth, his fingers squirming against the polished surface of the groundc clanking. “What… do I need… to do?”
Kael smiled, glad to have a way to get out of the staring contest. “If I may, it is very simple. All I need to know is where you prefer to be fighting, you can choose between already crafted terrain, or pay a small fee – the first time is free – to have some shapers craft it to your desired choice.” They patted their floral dress, straightening some creases that had formed. “I have already debriefed Rowan, your opponent. They were delighted to have been chosen by the Royal family itself – He said he had no qualms about you picking and choosing the field advantage. Rest assured, this is something both the second, Ryan, and the third, I believe his name was Samuel, underwent, so you don't have to worry about anything. Though… it had not happened on their frist day…” Kael’s purple lipstick stretched across their face as they smiled. “Unfortunately, Sir, you cannot decide to not make it public, as it will be broadcasted on the whole Red Line. I apologize for that. Orders of His Majesty…”
Brian’s head spun at that. Showing his hands was exactly what he didn’t want to do. Indomitable Human Spirit burned behind his eyes. There was already someone who knew some of his information – both Esenaji and the king were already aware of what he could…
However, if he could get someone as strong as Vincent – Samuel’s retainer – to teach him, it would pay off manyfold. His goblin skill was on the cusp of advancing, and he yearned to escape from the crutches of his frail body.
Brian’s hand grasped the table cloth, and reluctantly stepped out of his hiding spot, arms huddled together, hugging himself. He bent his knees as his talons clamped in the gaps of the white floor tiles.
“Oh, marvelous dress.”
He still hadn’t spoken with either of the two Earthlings face to face. His face twitched. It was hard to remind himself he wasn’t about to throw himself in a fight to the death.
“Tunnels.”
Alain’s fiery orbs glanced at him with the vigor of a bull. Yeah, that was the animal word he was looking for earlier to describe the ballroom. Bull.
“Mh? Sir, I’m afraid I didn’t quite catch what you said, could you please repeat it?”
“I… pick… tunnels. Many, teeny, tiny, tunnels. Interlocked… between… each other… like ant burrows. Pitch… black. Total darkness. Big lake.”
Kael spoke again. “Sir. I’m afraid that’ll put your opponent, Rowan, at a massive disadvantage, he uses dual greatswords. His family won’t be happ –”
“Yeah, I won’t be as well, if you continue to behave like this.” Alain yawned again, golden upper teeth on full display. Bare shoulders stretching with him to cover his mouth. “– augh. Kael, let the kid decide for himself. Who cares about this and that. Let’s do it anyway.” What’s with him?
If Kael was annoyed, he displayed none of it. “I’m afraid I cannot be allowed to do that. Rules are rules.”
“Whatever.” The butler pointed at Brian with a finger, mimicking a gun. “You Pick.”
Somehow, his Skill wasn’t activating. Brian, again, just nodded and clasped his dress, finding wrinkles in it. It gave his mind rest from the heaviness in the air.
The proxy took a careful, long look at Brian’s face through their heavy makeup, and started writing on the floating sheet of paper.
“All right, Sir. I settled the deal.” They waved a hand, and the hovering sigil floated over their own white dress, embedding itself in the material, becoming one of the purple roses in it. “I shall debrief you of Rowan now. Fifteen years of age, he was one of the first among his peers to unlock Echo around… two years ago, at the tender age of 13. First son of Duke Tror, he has been training with swords since he was a little baby.” How was this useful information? This was just his background. “They will not use Skills, nor Echo, but be wary of their formidable ability and tough body. Let me tell you this, His Majesty does not plan for you to win. This is a friendly bout. Your performance will be attested, and afterwards, a suitable teacher will be provided to you based on your habits or display in what you'll show us. Please show us in earnest what you are capable of. You both will be bathed in life-saving spells, if one of you two gets significantly hurt, you will get immediately transported to our medical ward. There, not even the dead can seek solace in finality.”
Brian blinked. He was about to fight a fifteen year old kid?
Sweet!