What... what is this? What sequence of events had spiraled to this moment? What wrongs had he committed? Sure, he might have bested a few unsuspecting kids at chess online (and maybe hoarded the last slice of pizza more than once), but that's not too bad, is it? How did karma decide to slam him this hard now? The first words he'd heard from someone else in weeks, aside from his own mutterings, had astonishingly turned out to be:
"... are you, perhaps, a chicken?"
And he could tell there was no mockery in the question; he could even sense a hint of respect. It was asked with genuine curiosity. But how? How! Did these skeletons even have a concept of what a chicken might be?
And so he just stared, realizing that the enemy made no move to advance, seriously awaiting his response as if it were as crucial as the siege itself. Could it be that his reputation had preceded him, or had the world simply gone mad? Here he was, standing in a dusty throne room, engaged in a philosophical debate with a skeleton about his possible avian identity.
"I will take your silence as a yes," the knight continued. "You may wonder how I know. Well, allow me to introduce myself. I am the one and only: Halberd Knight, one of the..."
"The heck is a chicken!" Dante couldn't contain himself any longer. His irrational and slightly immature side had burst forth once again. Deep down, he knew he should have gleaned more information from the knight, but his patience had worn thin. "Virgil, kill him. We have more pressing matters to attend to."
The knight was taken aback, unaccustomed to being cut off mid-sentence; he was usually the one doing the interrupting. He had even managed to interrupt a chicken, for crying out loud! But there was no time to dwell on his annoyance, as a swift strike from the staff-wielder forced him into action. Using the momentum from the blow, he propelled himself closer to the throne, determined to confront this enigmatic chicken, even if it turned out to be the last one in existence.
As he advanced, the creature before him remained motionless, yet it managed to contort its face into bizarre expressions, oddly revealing its... teeth. Chickens had teeth?
Well, even if he had no proof, what proof did he, the Halberd Knight, need? He would boast back home like there was no tomorrow, about how he had slain a... huh! The chicken just vanished in front of him. How could this be? Unless... unless.
Bam! He was struck hard on the back again; the staff-wielder had hit him once more. But it wasn't the blow from the staff that hurt the most; it was the realization. This ability to disappear and reappear out of nowhere, and with full HP at that, was the chicken's doing all along! He had grossly underestimated this creature. The legends spoke of a fragile entity, but this was something entirely different. They had all been duped. Perhaps it had been the chicken's strategy from the start to lower their guard. He needed to go back; he needed to inform the King. He couldn't fall now. He saw his trusty Bon Steve just entering the throne room, coming to his rescue as he always had. But even then, he knew escape was futile. They were up against the chicken after all.
To no one's surprise, the staff-wielder started reappearing quicker than before, dodging both him and his mount while landing blows. There was nothing he could do. This was the end. "Sorry, Steve, sorry, dad. I could not live up to the name of the House of the King's Knight." And as his final moments approached, at least he didn't feel too bad. Alas, no goblin had bested him, but rather something far more formidable: the chicken. He just hoped this was the limit of its power because if not, he feared for the safety of his kingdom.
About armor, she hadn't even looked at it, as the Amazon's default level 2 armor was still intact, as she had not received so much as a scratch so far.
***
"Well, I must say, that is one of the best pieces of meat I have ever had," Thaleia's lips were still oily from the rabbit stew she had just eaten.
Alice, sitting across from her, was finishing her pottage, albeit with more etiquette and patience than her delighted companion. She was pleased that the pottage came with a spoon, as it would have been uncomfortable otherwise.
She had tried to glean some information from the merchant but without success. This made her wonder if they would see him again later on or would have to retrace their steps back. She guessed that unless the following underground passage was shaped like a loop, the most probable scenario lay in seeing him again, or encountering another similar merchant.
She had bought a basket of dried figs just in case, as it was relatively cheap, could be preserved for a long time, and was a good source of nutrition and energy. This choice, of course, was not very appreciated by the Amazonian, who would have preferred a meat-based dish or a fruit she was familiar with. However, she was easily convinced after some slight overpraising of the figs.
Alice started recounting their journey so far during this moment of peace that had been granted to them. She was deeply intrigued by the concepts of titles and enlightenments and had been striving to gain a new one for herself. Compared to her companion that had four already, all she could boast was a better comprehension of The Game itself, a seemingly simple benefit that manifested in the form of a single Skill Point.
The path of a warrior was straightforward: mastering weapons and footwork. But what of her role as a Seer? She considered that her most likely advancement would involve enlightenment about Fate itself, an ambition that seemed entirely plausible within this world. Observing that enlightenments were categorized by ranks and realms of proficiency, she understood that a rank 1 understanding of Fate wouldn't imply mastery but instead represent an initial step towards it.
She had focused on this aspect, attempting to attain what might be considered a better understanding of Fate itself. She believed that she had a significant advantage in this endeavor, and not necessarily because of her current class as a Seer.
Fate had been deeply entwined with her life since birth. It had robbed her of her sight but gifted her with a rich world of sounds. Fate placed her in an unloving and hateful family, yet it was a noble family with a solid economic standing. Fate endowed her with an intellect far superior to her peers, which only served to make life more tedious and challenging, leaving her incapable of experiencing true happiness or forging friendships. And when she was transported to this new reality, Fate meddled once again, granting her sight but cursing her in a world devoid of sounds.
Fate gave and took in a manner that brooked no opposition. It was unchangeable, encompassing truth, reality, past, present, and future. Fate was the ultimate law, not crafted by humans, but decreed by the world itself.
Alice knew all this; she believed she understood Fate better than most. Then… Why didn't The Game react? Why hadn't she been granted her enlightenment?
***
Virgil leveled up
30,000 Tutorial Coins acquired
Dante requested Virgil to summon him back to the throne room from the room directly underneath where he had been staying during the fight. He wanted to witness firsthand as this enemy crumbled. Dante knew this was a childish feeling; his anger wasn't even that intense. Maybe in a different mood, he might have found it amusing and laughed. But too much had been weighing on his mind: the solitude, missing his old life, especially his friends and most of all, his family. As someone who lived a bit far from home, renting student accommodation on campus, the truth was he didn't spend much time with his family, which he now deeply regretted. He had tried not to think much about it, but the reality was there: he might never see them again. His totally opposite brother, his mom who always worried about everything, and his proud and silent father. And of course, his quirky and unpredictable grandpa.
It all dawned on him, mixed with the solitude and the countless battles The Game had put him through, always on edge, always giving his all. And then, the first words he hears question if he was a coward. And sure, they came from the mouth, or soul, or whatever a skeleton used to speak with, but it was the words from The Game itself.
Did the fact he didn't fight on the front lines mean he was a coward? The reality was he really wished he could. How could he not crave the adrenaline of wielding superhuman strength, of shouting as he faced insurmountable odds? He wished he had magic, he wished he could level up and be respected by friends and foes alike. He wished for it a lot. Fuck, he wished he still had his other eye and his arm. But reality was cruel; he was dealt a bad hand and had to make the most of it. He made his choices, his sacrifices, for the best outcome.
After all he had gone through, battle after battle, ensuring Virgil grew into the player he aspired to be, he deeply wished to switch roles—to be the one fighting and being summoned time and again. But he couldn't, since he had received the verdict from the skeleton:
You are a summoner.
You can only summon undead.
Your Might cannot increase due to leveling, items, or equipment.
Select one summon and increase its stats by 50%.
You lost and can never regain your right arm.
Select one skill and decrease its mana cost to zero.
And especially:
Your Essence cannot increase in any way.
He knew he had to take the unconventional route. He needed to think outside the box and devise a strategy that would turn these limitations to his advantage. And he succeeded.
He had persevered without complaint, even volunteering for beheading, all for the sake of progress. He endured solitude, foregoing the comforts of his past life. Even when he encountered the vending machine for the first time, he took nothing for himself, despite his desires. Instead, he armed Virgil. Because Virgil was the hero, not him.
Dante remained motionless, observing as both the knight and his mount disappeared. The sound of approaching soldiers echoed off the walls, but he paid them no heed. Too much had overwhelmed Dante in a single moment. Was he a coward?
A tear began to form in his eye when he suddenly felt a nudge in his mind. Looking up with watery eyes, he saw it:
Virgil was holding his hand up, offering a high five.