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Swillberg Is Under New Management!
Yeah, I'm Collector. Your source of updates for the expansive world of Everything is Bury. I'll deal you a sweet piece of meat for no price at all this time, newbies.
The Wettened Woods, one of the many starting zones for rookies, has faced a giant upset. I got the information from some conceited guy who didn't think they'd have to pay me the price.
Oi, top-rankers who lurk in my forums! You know exactly what I mean, right?
Apparently some crazy newbie launched a siege on the city for a week. Whoever it was, they killed the Participants so many times that they ran off to find another Book of the Dead to register under. As a result, the Clove's Throat has mysteriously disappeared, along with the Breather Crypt there as well.
Crazy shit, huh? Anyone Tier 1 and under, if you can find the phone number for The Wettened Woods, find your way in The Forgetful Catacombs, or hell, if you've established a Grace of Return with memories of the place...now's your chance to be a tycoon!
Stay posted, chumps.
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Tap.
A finger with the pigment of fine porcelain scrolled past the screen, dragging down the website. This website was Da'at, a prevalent talking site for players his age and up. Its poppy and trendy appearance leaned heavily into the punk aspect permeating Everything is Bury, which drew the younger people to it with ease.
A thick thumb was connected to even more intimidating fingers, the glare of the phone screen, blinding. Well, it would've been...but it wasn't much of a bother to the young man lying face up on his bed.
His bangs were long, yet not in the aesthetically pleasing sense. The fluffy mess of spiky corian-bisque shaded strands covered his eyes, yet that didn't do many favors to the facets of his face that lacked this obscuration.
Putting it simply in his sister's joking words, he was ugly. Of course, this was a joke. It's a shame it was only satirical when no one compared his appearance to that same doting sister of his.
He was rogueish and untameable, his features scrunched up so thoroughly that he looked like a rotting rind of a fruit. His face wasn't the kind that people would ignore...but not for any positive reasons.
His saving grace was his body. Standing at 5 ft 10, a whole 2 inches above the average height of a male inhabitant of Blue Pangea, he has the foundations of an indomitable physique to the naked eye.
Strong, manly features that would befit a bull given enough work, this was the epithet most people bequeathed upon this man.
It was a shame that his appearance did all it could to hide his most impressive asset: his brain. Muho Suu didn't have a Particularity. Yet this year, he would soon be registered to one of the topmost Stranger Academies, Lagoon L'Azure!
The written test was a grueling affair; even the most brilliant young mines of the blue expanse would cry after hearing they'd have to take it. As a result, most Strangers relied on their additional tests to secure the gaze of experts, whether it was the practical exam, the defense test, or the strategy ordeal.
Muho Suu went above and beyond even the highest score, a startling 1000 points. Muho...gained 1263 points of advanced credit...
An excelling scholar that could stir the frigid gazes of the Strangers that viewed the ordinary people as ants. This was the man Muho was, his brain akin to a long-lost treasure.
Muho...
He felt like his life was incomparably shitty. He had gained a new breath of excitement on his face when he gained an Enigmatic Entertainment console along with the chip of Everything is Bury!
Finally, a Particularity!
Those were his thoughts at the time, a beautiful goddess descending from the very heavens themselves to deliver this genius a chance to acquire his dreams! Aside from asking Lucky☆Shark, there was a chance to get a new residence aside from the shitty apartment he and his sister were lent.
Lucky☆Shark paid the rent and even helped them with any circumstances that arose. Although he had not even given them his name or had any reason to help him, he worked as a stand-in for him and his sister's deceased parents.
But...it seemed he still had to rely on the man (?) who wore a mascot suit everywhere he went.
All he had acquired from Everything is Bury was a simple sword talent. The straightsword at the side of his bed looked despicable, leaning amongst a pile of scattered textbooks and torn-up notes.
Muho's room was messy from his depression. A retro tv was the only thing he had done for himself in the entertainment sector, a sloppily hung calendar slung atop a jutting nail just above it. It was lined with x's, the circled date the day of admittance and orientation.
13 days left...
The messy table covered in coffee stains had loose ties atop it. His closet door hung open, and his bed was dirty. It smelled like a lousy detective about to get fired.
At least the bookcase lined with comic books was okay. But that was only because his sister pinched her nose and rearranged it every now and then when she wanted to check out the greats.
Those classic stories looked so childish in his dreary gaze.
The wooden frame emitted a droning noise as it bent upwards, released from Muho's weight. His phone was on the texting service most people around his age used, The Bomb.
BANG!
Muho smirked at the fireworks ringing in his ears every time he opened the app. The fanfare was coupled with digital streamers emitting from a circle light on his chest.
The Repressor Pin. The mechanical pin that was worn by the inhabitants across the globe. With a mechanical outline and several prongs fueled by the safest energy on the planet, produced by The Seed of Babylon...it could stick on any surface of the user it was registered under. It was like magic, which was about half true.
It suppressed Carbuncle Radiation, allowing even regular people to walk near one of these rifts and lead everyday lives. It also lessened the overall frequencies the Carbuncles would emit, which reduced the likelihood of an Expulsion.
That wasn't all, though! They were commodities essential to life to even the Strangers, as they had many capabilities! Brought about by installable modules, the Node Limit of the Repressor Pin was always a subject of contention among the populace.
This digital/magical wonder...was used by Muho to make streamers appear out of certain apps on his phone. If he installed the suitable modules, he wouldn't even need a phone to begin with!
He walked as he scrolled to his sister's private chat, pacing around the room.
********Start of Conversation: 5:26 AM
JJJE:
Yo. (1)
Get up (2)
Are u ignoring ur sister (3)
That's wai i'm older than u ( ︶︿︶)_╭∩╮ (4)
Yo (5)
I'm supes serious (6)
I'll send Spokesman to ur room ✿❀✿ ⊙‿⊙ (7)
I wasn't joking, wat the fuck (8)
msg me when u get up ◞(⚭·̫⚭)˩✧ (9)
---6:32 AM---
homun: Did you forget how to punctuate while doing your makeup today, or what.
JJJE: rude
homun: You didn't fix it, so I guess it's true?
JJJE: as true as ur nasty room
homun: Real mature, Edna.
JJJE:
this u?
homun: Yeah. You lost your object permanence, btw.
JJJE:
boy i sure care so much (1)
go take out the trash (2)
and then after come to my room so i can style ur hair (3)
we're unearthing that covered up beauty 2day so u can have the length u want at school (4)
homun: What if I don't want to?
JJJE:
***********Endlog Time: 6:41 AM
"Fuc- fine...she's never threatened me with that before. Why's she so upset...damn..."
A meaty hand rose up to scratch at his head as he stopped walking. His dark brown eyes scanned the area, landing on a dresser he used as a makeshift desk with the high chair he had in his closet.
A newspaper with mottled text and a cut-out panel slid over his gaze before he redirected his stare at the contents.
Two peace signs, a gas mask, a long white coat over a military suit, and a spiky mop of flamboyant hair. This man was a scientist of both widespread renown and even wider obscurity, as the public didn't know much about him.
If we went by the time the mad scientist Jun Takakagi was active, he'd be over 80. Although the lifespan of inhabitants of Blue Pangea rose tremendously, and even more so for those with a Particularity, the odd part was his youth. He seemed to be under 16, his short stature and immaturity evident...
His voice was distorted through the oddly shaped gasmask composed out of numerous alloy, unknown chemicals and substances spattered all over it in markedly aged stains.
Aside from his generally creepy appearance, there was something that made people look at him in fear. Not much is known about his past or even past experiments, but he was blacklisted by the International Convene for quite some time.
...It was a wonder he was on this damp newspaper.
The article underneath his likeness read out a shocking proposition.
"Particularity Injection. Requires specimens."
The words underneath the title were smudged from Muho consistently laying his fingertips upon them. The ink couldn't withstand the month of residual heat and sweat, so only a few words were legible.
They didn't really matter, anyways. Just a bunch of fluff to draw the average person's attention, some words of praise...the works. It's a miracle that this newspaper didn't blow up in the public eye; Muho had constantly researched using the search engines he devised to elude the government's attention.
Better safe than sorry.
"Cut out this letter with your name, picture, and address. Leave it beneath a cold object, and then drop it in your local waste bin. We will either pick you up or visit you depending on your eligibility."
A scrawl that looked like a chicken scratch stung Muho's eyes as annoyance sprouted up from his subconscious. He had forgotten all about that for a time, bummed out that he still couldn't change his life even with Everything is Bury.
He felt like a fool for even trying it. A mad scientist who was on the run from the authorities would just be his magic ticket to a better life? Really? He had better luck reincarnating in another world after getting the works from oncoming traffic.
"Whatever..."
He mumbled, shambling past the propped-open dismal door. As he exited his room and opened the corridor, he saw machine-like figures with diminutive sizes rushing about, some even suspended in air due to propulsors or wings.
"Ah. Sis...your Gearspirits aren't needed to guide me, alright? I'm doing the chore..."
A cursory answer streamed from Muho's chapped lips as he looked at the tallest Gearspirit.
A whole foot tall, this was the object of Edna's threats, Spokesman.
A two-tone metallic chassis, it was mainly black with raisin purple undertones. A humanoid figure that lacked eyes, ears, lips, and was devoid of all hair. Aside from its nose and the shark-like grim stuck in a curvy v (the teeth even sharper triangles that were clamped together), it had a featureless and slate-like face.
It wore a vintage bowling hat and a freshly pressed classic fit suit, the shades all beige and accompanying accents of brown. Aside from the gloves it wore, it had a mafioso type of vibe.
This Gearspirit was Edna's favorite, and true to its name, it did things on her behalf when she was preoccupied. Somewhat capable of thought, it disregarded Muho's words as it trudged down the corridor.
Before long, it returned, lugging a massive trash bag behind it. The top was tied with a bow, accentuated by the figure jabbing it with the barrel of a tiny rifle.