Pride was what made a boy into a man.
Even after having lost his entire family, Harold had managed to retain his sanity by a certain method.
The result turned him into an amnesiac.
But even without his memories, he remembered the words of his grandfather before he had passed on.
"Be proud of how far you've come. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise." Simple, but effective to hear.
Words both Pal and Harold lived by.
Words they kept even as the only 'Humans' without a Gift. The latter even more resolved of the future.
Aspiring to become a white knight of justice.
...It was similar to Pal Weldone.
The only difference being that they couldn't be any more different. Especially with how they acted.
Pal fell deep into thought.
When the circumstances had passed, he realised that the surrounding cultists and characters cleared out.
The only person left in the mall was him and George.
Time was running out as MagiKnights were heading to this scene. The hostages had been saved.
"What happened?" Maybe because of the Miasma Core affecting him, he felt both weak and strong.
A strange contrast of feelings.
Weakness from feeling closer to death itself, and strength from his body pushing beyond its border.
Having a Miasma Core was already one thing. The choice he made in picking couldn't be undone.
He'd simply have to live his shortened lifespan.
Ten years? Five? Pal wasn't sure how much he'd sacrificed to capture this third-rate cannon fodder.
A one-off villain that never made an appearance again. Forgotten by even George in the end.
"Pal, get ahold of yourself." His brother shook him a little to get him out of his trance, but it was too late.
"What happened?" Pal asked him again.
"I can't say Mordred and Janette are on my side, but I can control them. I managed to get them to leave without touching him. Hold still. I'm about to give you something." George grabbed the thug's wrist.
[You have been chosen as 'Player 2'.]
[Innate Gift: 'Miraculous Gamer' has connected the party system to the user. Unique Skill is granted.]
[You have learned 'Skill Acquisition'.]
"What's this?" Pal looked at the message.
"You can kill him now." George pointed at the unconscious Necromancer on the ground nearby.
Priest Lark woke up after feeling a sense of dread wash over him. He tried to scream at that moment.
The afro thug looked at his direction.
With an inhuman physical strength, Pal threw a punch that broke past his human limits fiercely.
Destroying the man's skull in an instant.
And also crackling his arm in the process.
The overuse of the Miasma Core numbed Pal's arm considerably. He didn't even feel the torn muscles.
Or the energy holding his body together.
[You have acquired the the Personal Skill: 'UnLife Conductor'. The holder lacks usage requirements.]
Pal wasn't exactly excited despite seeing that he gained 2 Skills at once. He knew the system well.
As well as the balancing of these types of Skills.
He remembered a Skill devouring character that could take abilities from the dead. A very good Skill.
The only problem was usage.
There was hidden parameters that could cause Skills acquired this way to become a detriment to him.
As he followed George out of the mall and into the streets, Pal thought about the system they had.
There was a weakness in 'stealing' abilities...
The first detriment was that without having the requirements, usage of a stolen Skill was difficult.
Right now, the only condition he met to use UnLife Conductor was having a Miasma Core within him.
In one of the hidden parameters of the system, a Skill that powered others was called Origin Skills.
Without 'Origins', it was useless to have an affinity.
The most effective Origin nowadays was the Magic Stat attained by acquiring an Amount Converter.
Without that, they could barely use their magic.
If a stolen Skill was completely useless due to not fulfilling any requirements, there was another use.
Skill Fusion...
Which was actually the second detriment.
"What was the point in me getting that Skill?" Pal asked George after he dragged him into an alley.
He laid on the wall in a weakened state.
"First, what Skills did you choose from Jobless?" A question that sounded rude, but didn't move him.
The afro thug was more obedient than that.
"I chose Riot Hysteria from a Fighter Class and Miasma Core of a Necromancer." Pal answered.
George looked at him in surprise in that choice. He was looking at him as if to wait for him to continue.
"...'Riot Hysteria' continuously increases the recovery of strength and stamina. It doesn't heighten your limits, but it can give the user endless strength the lower their health. As you can tell, it also causes hysteria." He only explained a portion of the Skill.
George instantly understood him:
"So you were thinking of mixing 'Riot Hysteria' and 'Miasma Core' to turn yourself into an Undead?"
Even though Pal nodded, George looked more worried while looking at his brother's condition.
"...Why go so far?" He asked.
"There wasn't much time." Pal responded with closed eyes. Sweat dripping down his face.
He was prepared for death even before this life.
For the sake of his smart brother, he was ready to become a sword that would cut down their foes.
Even if that meant losing his humanity in the process. He was ready to lay down everything.
A splitting migraine weakened him.
"Brother, don't worry about me. I'm fine. You just do what you usually do." Pal spoke without any fear.
There was trust in the way he gave all the burdens.
When they were simply rats on the street, it was by listening to George that their lives had turned.
Although he got worried when his brother showed an obsession for writing, he still trusted him.
And that belief was rewarded.
Their novel had become critically acclaimed. Their murky dealings weren't even necessary anymore.
All because of George.
And so, Pal believed that his brother had a plan even in this urban fantasy. That he could make it.
All he had to do was protect him along the way.
In this world where he was fearful his brother could die, Pal made the ultimate sacrifice to protect him.
But those sentiments only caused the man pain.
George looked at his sworn brother with a complicated look on his face. He sighed in grief.
Looking up to the bright blue sky.
Then spoke the words his brother was unable to hear- No, the words he couldn't believe he heard.
Changing his life's trajectory.
.....
....
...
..
.
"We will operate separately now. Since you already made up your mind... then die." I couldn't believe George could even speak that coldly to me. It almost felt like an illusion. A trick to deceive or joke around.
But George's eyes were serious.
"...You don't want me around?" I pointed at myself.
"I only need time to conquer this place. When that's all done, I'll try to get a different ending." (George)
"You mean 'everybody lived'?" (Pal)
"Is there something wrong?" George glared at me.
"You're the one who plotted an epic tale of loss and sacrifice. I get how you feel, but why...?" I spoke.
"Why what?" (George)
"You never care yourself. I get that for me, reality changes the circumstances, but that's not you. I know for sure you'd never help in the past. Why are you so obsessed with these 'characters'?" (Pal)
"Maybe I see them as people, like you do." (George)
"You wouldn't manipulate them if you felt that." I retorted, only to realise that this wasn't true.
"Do you really think that?" He smiled. The very same expression he'd make while causing others harm.
"You made your point. So what? What's this got to do with us splitting up?" I looked up at his pale face.
"Codependence is a bad thing. Plus, I need you to go to the other side. This city isn't the best place to hinder the Dragon Cult's progress." George made a point. Maybe I was being a dependent on his mind.
Trusting only his actions.
Not daring to make my own story.
"So you're saying you don't need me?" I looked him in the eye. Pained from feeling betrayed at this point.
"...Pretty much." Those words broke my heart.
"GEORGE!" I grabbed onto his collar and pinned him to a wall. My body still worked as I intended to.
"Pal... Just let me go." He turned his eyes away.
"B-but we're partners in crime. You and me against the world, you know? So... so..." I tried to persuade.
"Is it really BOTH you and me?" His eyes seemed to coldly look down on me. Not feeling moved at all.
"What do you mean...?" I had no idea.
"All this time I thought you also wanted the same things as me, but that was wrong. You only followed me because it was 'me', right?" George's words made no sense. The reason I followed shouldn't matter.
"I don't get you." (Pal)
"You wouldn't. You're not the type to care about where you sleep or where you are. A battle junkie at heart, but also someone with no future. If I didn't want to climb the ladder, you wouldn't-" (George)
"Stop." (Pal)
"Let me say it." (George)
"That I'm a sociopath? That I don't care about people? …I'm not the manipulator here." (Pal)
"That's right... You're just a 'bad person'." He stared at me after those words... until I let go of his collar.
Looking away at the first opportunity he got.
Was I too disgusting now?
"Hypocrite." (Pal)
"I won't deny that. Fine. I'm the hypocrite here. I used you and now I feel guilty. Happy?" (George)
"Why grow a heart now?" Seriously, you could've just let me do things like this until the very end.
That's what brothers are for…
"I'll be honest with you. Go die out of my sight. I'm not going to ask you for help anymore. GO!" George pushed me away. He seriously made me feel like I was in the wrong for having followed his advice.
I stepped back from him. My eyes unable to hide my feelings of betrayal. My rage. Anguish at it all.
Why? Why…?
Stop me. Please stop me from walking away at this moment. We can still be brothers. We are… We…
Why won't you stop me?
I moved further and further away from him with my own feet, but I couldn't the strength in me anymore.
Not that it mattered anymore…
We were fighting together our whole lives. We fought and struggled against the odds all the time.
Is this how we'd part?
I didn't want to go… but if he wanted me gone from his life, I'd leave with grace. Pretend he had a plan.
That infiltrating the Dragon Cult was more than just a random goal he threw out to distract me…
…but even I'm not stupid enough to believe it.
It's fine. I'm fine. I get it now. Maybe basing my whole life around someone else was my problem.
Maybe recklessly hurting myself also hurt him.
I get it now.
But my realisation is too late now. He'd never let me back… Does he hate me now? Think I'm a freak?
He was right about how I was content with my life in a gutter. Those times I'd begged for food as a child.
The adults around us were trash human beings, but I was capable of outlasting and escaping their evils.
The torment inflicted on both of us.
He was my light that illuminated this world.
Now… I didn't know what to do anymore.
Where should I go?
I wondered around the streets and saw the world with untainted eyes. No goal. No home to return to.
No owner.
A loyal dog given freedom to roam around without his leash. Does George think I'd appreciate this?
Fat chance. I wish he'd hurt his nose or something.
My body was slowly dying, and my emotions weren't in the best state. I… needed a place to calm myself.
A church came into view.
I wasn't the religious type, but I had no choice but to find another 'faith' to believe in. Anything. Please.
Before my heart dies…