[ Capitano POV ]
I woke up just as quickly as I had passed out, two beings still in my line of sight, though something felt different. My body had grown heavier, and my hair felt restricted, as though something was covering it. My neck twisted to the left, then to the right, before I turned back to face Touch Me and Momonga.
Touch Me had his hand on his chin, studying me intently, while Momonga stood beside him, arms crossed. "Why'd you go for this again?" Momonga asked, looking at Touch Me and gesturing in my direction. I didn't know what he was pointing at, but I could feel that something had changed.
A dull ache spread through my body, my torso in particular throbbing with discomfort. It felt like multiple areas were crying out, yet I couldn't pinpoint exactly why. I could only watch as my creator stood before me.
Touch Me pointed to my chest, and I followed his finger, watching as he tapped a part of my armour. The sound of metal resonated with each tap, and I felt his gauntlet's touch through something soft—clothing. I realized I'd been adorned with a full set of armour, and their conversation seemed to revolve around my design.
Touch Me began speaking with a sense of satisfaction. "So, his design was crafted to exude an aura that's both intimidating and regal. I wanted him to look like someone whose presence commands respect and maybe even a bit of fear from those who serve him. When people see his muscled back, they should feel that power."
He took a deep breath, as if savouring the description. I found myself listening intently, taking mental notes. His words hinted at a personality I would have to embody: commanding, domineering, and in full control. That much was easy for me, but I'd need to work on the intimidation part.
"I made the armour heavily ornamented, with intricate designs etched into the helmet and throughout," Touch Me continued. "Each piece tells a story, like he's carrying some ancient, storied legacy. And as you can see, his helmet fully conceals his face, making him unreadable. People won't know if he's human or something more... mysterious."
Momonga raised a finger to interject, a playful look on his face. "Wait, why does it matter if people wonder if he's human? Don't tell me—you're getting into roleplay."
He feigned a shocked expression, which made Touch Me chuckle slightly.
"Well, maybe a little," Touch Me admitted with a grin. "I wanted everything to fit seamlessly for this character, especially since I'm giving him something I won at the World Tournament."
This piqued my interest. What could he mean? I hadn't heard anything about a special prize being awarded to me.
Momonga looked equally surprised, but quickly masked it. "Oh? And what would that be?" he asked, scratching his head.
Touch Me leaned back slightly, clearly enjoying the reveal. "Nothing too serious—just a job class I can give to someone I consider worthy as my squire. The Squire of a World Champion. It boosts his stats immensely in honourable battles, whether it's a duel or a justly declared war."
Momonga stared, jaw dropped. "What do you mean 'nothing too serious'? That's beyond busted, and you're giving it to an NPC?"
Touch Me just shrugged, scratching his head. "Yeah? Is there something wrong with that?"
Momonga slapped his own face in exasperation before waving his hand dismissively. "Fine, whatever. Just keep going with the armour explanation. Sometimes, you make me lose brain cells."
Touch Me ignored the remark, pressing on. "See these braided adornments hanging off the helmet? I added them because, well, they look cool. But I'll give them some lore—they'll be ceremonial, something I awarded him when he became my squire."
Momonga nodded along, finally letting Touch Me get back into his flow.
"Now, about the colour palette," Touch Me continued. "It's significantly different to that of my own. I went with dark, metallic tones, accented with rich, warm colors in the ornamental parts. It gives him a dignified look, but also an intimidating one. The chains and ropes are decorative, but they have meaning."
Momonga raised an eyebrow, making a guess. "Let me guess—something symbolic, like an unbreakable oath or duty?"
Touch Me tilted his head back, clearly impressed. "Yeah, you nailed it. But seriously, how'd you guess that?"
With a smirk, Momonga wagged his finger. "I've been RP'ing longer than you, you know. When it comes to character design, I can spot a classic trope a mile away."
Touch Me clicked his tongue, as if he'd expected Momonga's reaction. I couldn't say I wasn't expecting it either. "Now, lastly, the clawed gauntlets," Touch Me said, pausing briefly as he ran his hands over my now-covered hands. "These were meant to amplify his intimidating aura. They mark him not as a noble, white-knight figure but as a predator—a force capable of tearing through foes with sheer brute strength if needed. The contrast between the hard, angular armour and these sharp, claw-like gauntlets emphasizes that duality."
He paused, then added, "It suggests he's not just disciplined; he has a feral side. He could become a beast, brutalizing his opponents without hesitation, slicing through them as effortlessly as if he were chopping vegetables."
As he finished, a sudden spark lit up his eyes. He entered my customization panel, navigating to a specific section with a focused intensity. His silence piqued Momonga's curiosity, and the room filled with a tense stillness until Touch Me's chuckles broke the quiet.
Momonga looked at him in disbelief. "Did you seriously just give him five levels in the Chef class?"
"Why, of course!" Touch Me replied, a mischievous grin likely hidden under his helmet. "What kind of knight fights on an empty stomach?"
He barely held back his laughter, and I couldn't help but chuckle as well. I was grateful—at least now I might be able to make a decent meal without setting the kitchen on fire.
Although it wouldn't have been too hard on my own, I now had a bit more assurance than before. Ha, I still remembered the times I'd accidentally burnt my house down because I forgot to turn the stove off. Maybe they weren't such good times, now that I think about it. I 'nodded' to myself. Yeah, I'm glad he gave me the Chef skill.
Momonga shrugged. "Well, if you want him to have it, go for it. He's your character, after all." His voice was calm, though I could detect a slight shift in his tone—a hint of amusement, as if he was suppressing a laugh.
I was glad it wasn't just me and Touch Me finding this funny. It would've been awkward otherwise. Touch Me refocused on me, his 'thinking look' returning, while Momonga stayed quiet, likely realizing it was best to let his friend finish up so they could both head back to the real world. It was getting pretty late.
Touch Me navigated through the customization system, and with each click, I felt slight changes ripple through me. He muttered to himself as he scrolled, sometimes pausing to scan the options before selecting something else. If I had to guess, he was probably reviewing all the Job Classes to see which would suit me best. I put my faith in him to give me a semi-decent build.
Momonga broke the silence, causing Touch Me to glance over. "Sorry to interrupt, but… why did you put five racial levels into Shoggoth? Isn't that… like, a shapeshifter thing?"
Ah, so that was one of my races. One down—I still had to figure out where he'd placed my other levels.
Touch Me just shrugged, as if it was no big deal. "Might make him a decent spy, who knows? I just thought it looked interesting. But honestly, that one has no real part in his lore. The only races tied to his backstory are the Ghoul and True Vampire levels."
This gave me the rest I needed to know about my races — I appreciated Touch Me for revealing everything about me so easily.
Momonga nodded and fell silent again, allowing Touch Me to return to his work. Another change hit me, leaving me with an odd sense of accomplishment, but it didn't seem to have any immediate effect. I was still in the dark about most of my Job Classes.
So far, the only class I knew was 'Disciple of a World Champion.' It was safe to assume that would be capped at level 5, considering how overpowered it seemed already.
I could only sigh at how challenging this was going to be. After all, if I didn't act exactly according to my character's background, I might be in trouble when I ended up in the New World with Momonga. Even though it was unlikely, I still wanted to be prepared. Thankfully, my armour's design—a dark, unreadable visage meant to exude mystery—would help me avoid scrutiny. With luck, I could get away with giving only cryptic, minimal answers when needed.
'Sighing' once more, I felt a surge of power course through me, but I paid it little mind. I just wanted to retreat back into that comforting darkness. It was so much more peaceful than being created and moulded. This process was painful, and I despised pain—I always had, and I always would.
Ignoring the sharp discomfort spreading through various parts of my body, I watched as Touch Me made his finishing touches, eventually wiping his forehead with a relieved sigh. "Finally, time to set the Background Settings." Momonga moved closer, clearly curious about the settings since his friend had recently taken up an interest in roleplay.
Touch Me glanced at Momonga, then turned back to the panel. Pressing a button in the top-right corner, I saw Momonga's jaw drop. "Why'd you block me from viewing it?"
Touch Me let out a playful chuckle. "I'll show you before the game ends—how about that? After all, he's supposed to be a mystery. Only I know what's truly written in the hidden sections."
He raised a finger. "However, I might still add updates that you'll see; you just won't see the original settings. This is mainly because he's meant to be a mysterious figure. No one's supposed to know his full story… except me, his teacher and liege."
Momonga released a sigh of resignation. As much as he wanted to protest, he clearly respected his friend's intentions. "Fine, but you'd better promise to show me before you leave."
Touch Me nodded. "I promise. I'll reveal his background to you before the end of the game. Happy now?"
"Very," Momonga replied with a grin, before turning away. "I'm logging off now. See you tomorrow."
Without even waiting for Touch Me's reply, his body vanished mid-sentence. He must've had the log-off sequence ready—because that was fast. I muttered to myself, surprised at how quick the sign-off process was in this game.
I could hear Touch Me sigh as he began tapping on the screen. A slight hum filled the room as he kept himself company with a soft tune, and I couldn't help but enjoy it, too. The melody, simple and calming, eased my mind, helping to distract me from the lingering pain in my body. For that, I was even more grateful for the sound.
He continued typing for what felt like an hour, occasionally pausing to think, then deleting sections with a quick, frustrated "tsch." It was likely because something he'd written didn't fit my character or didn't quite make sense. But I would never truly know his reasons.
Eventually, he finished. He stared at me with a sense of pride so strong it was almost palpable, practically radiating a light that brightened the room. His shimmering armour gleamed, and I was struck by the sight—his pride, his dedication. I was finally complete. I tried to move, but my body remained firmly in place. Right, I reminded myself. I'm still an NPC; I need commands to move.
With a final tap on his screen, Touch Me pressed a button, and once again, I was embraced by that familiar, comforting darkness, wrapping around me like a warm cocoon.
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When I woke again, light filled my vision, and there he was—my creator. The one who had unknowingly trapped me in this body that ached with a pain I couldn't shake. I couldn't move, couldn't protest, could do nothing but gaze at him, feeling the weight of this existence he had imposed on me.
This time, he held a new weapon at his hip, a blade with an air of grim purpose. He drew it and, with solemnity, fastened it to my side. "A blade fit for a knight as cursed as you. Its name is The Sword With The Red Hilt," he said, his tone reverent.
For a moment, he looked down, as if lost in thought—or maybe, as if lost in character. "I'm sorry, my squire," he murmured, his voice barely audible. "If I had known sooner you were cursed, I'd have turned you away, so the curse might never have taken hold."
He glanced back at the blade resting on my hip. "May this blade ease your suffering with the strength it grants you. Perhaps it will make you strong enough to slay gods, like in the old days when it was just the two of us."
I heard a sniffle escape his helmet, and it was then that a strange feeling settled over me. This was more than just roleplay. I wasn't used to this vulnerability in him, even if it was only an act for his character. Why did he seem so affected? Panic crept into my mind. I wasn't sure how to handle witnessing him laid so bare, even if it was an illusion.
Turning away, he left the room, and I felt the familiar darkness wrap around me once again. Yet this time, it felt softer, like slipping into the warmth of a deep, restful sleep—one where I was floating on waves, cradled in a bond as comforting as the embrace of a loved one.
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A/N: And with that our wonderful chapter has come to a close meaning we're oh-so-close to watching our friend's daily NPC adventures. Which Cuisines will he be forced to cook due to his job class, or will he instantly be sent to descend upon a battleground deemed as a righteous war?