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Demon Souls Fool'S Idol Cheese

The Fool’s Guide to Surviving the Apocalypse

You know what’s unfair? For years, I dreamed about adventure—magic, monsters, heroes, all that good stuff. I imagined grand battles, epic quests, and worlds filled with mystery. And then the world actually decided to go full apocalypse. Did it give me a cool prophecy? A legendary weapon? A warning? An OP Skill? Nope. Just dumped me into chaos with nothing but my sharp wit and questionable survival instincts. Fine. I can play this game. Heck, I even got my own survival guide: Rule #1: Find a protagonist. Because let’s be honest, I am not main character material. Main characters are strong, serious, and burdened by fate. I, on the other hand, have spent my entire life dodging effort like it’s a contagious disease. Rule #2: If your protagonist has amnesia, you are screwed. Guess what? Mine does. The regressor, the guy who was supposed to have all the answers, keeps squinting at the apocalypse like it’s an old TV show he barely remembers. “This looks familiar…” Yes, genius, because we’re about to die in it! So now I have to think. Not normal thinking—fool’s logic. The kind of thinking that makes no sense but works anyway. And if that fails? I’ll talk my way out. Monsters? Negotiate. Villains? Trash-talk them until they cry. Death itself? Well, I’ll try to convince it that I’m not worth the effort. And if I die even then? At least I’ll go out proving that fools always find a way. ______ ___ _ [ Please note that this story is a work of fiction and a product of the author's imagination. It contains scenes of violence, death, and may not be suitable for all readers. It is intended for mature audiences only. ]
Peace_in_Chaos · 27.2K Views

Setting souls

The two men couldn't have looked more out of place on the cold afternoon streets of New Hadepee. The first was a scrawny fellow, no taller than five foot eight, wearing a white shirt marred with ugly reddish-brown stains and a pair of plain tan pants. His companion, by contrast, carried himself with an air of quiet authority—a regal-looking man with a neatly trimmed black beard, wrapped in a great black coat with a red scarf pulled snug around his neck. "I heard the man himself has come back," the one in the stained shirt said, carefully balancing on the curb with his arms outstretched. "Oh? And where did you hear that?" his companion asked, turning his head with amusement to watch the precarious balancing act. "Welp, the sergeant major told me to go down to Olker, so I figured that could only mean he's back," the man in the white shirt replied. "Vistor has close cultural and political ties with the kingdom of Olker. Don't you think it's just a protection job?" the older man in black inquired, a hint of humor in his voice. "Oh, come on, Mang, you know they'd never give someone like me a protection job," the man in the white shirt scoffed, jumping off the curb and spinning around a lamppost. The older man—now known as Mang—came to a halt, reaching into his coat and pulling out an envelope. "Well, Tai, I suppose you're wrong." Mang handed the envelope to him. Tai peeled open the envelope, sliding out the letter and studying it carefully. "Oh wow, so Marlin is marrying the queen of those people?" he asked with a shrug. "She is not a queen. Don't let anyone call her that," Mang snapped. "And if her people weren't so damn difficult, we would have annexed them already." "So we let them succeed but not Gascon? Whose idea was that? They're more like us than those humans are," Tai said, frowning. "Gascon was willing to sell to the Emperor for a small chunk of change," Mang quipped. "The Noctrous family was not." "Ok so what's that matter, all we need is a little persuasion to change their minds? We killed the chief of Gnomandale and sent his stuffed head back to them, then they sold Gnomendale to us. All we need to do to get Olker is beat the hell out of Sylvie and she will sell." Tai folds the letter and places it back into the envelope. "Tai, the people of Vistor don't have the heart to see us beat up the Eladrin people like we did the Gnomes, and plus their Chief tramp Silvye is much too pretty for us to put her head on a stick."  "Welp, it's our loss," Tai muttered, spitting onto the sidewalk. "No, it's not. Not if Chester is back…" Tai frowned. "What's Chester gonna do?" "Last I recall, his fallout with Sylvie wasn't just a petty disagreement. Before he died, he built a fleet of ships and hid them in a cove somewhere. If he wanted revenge, all he'd need is an army." "And who the hell would fight for him?" "The same people who fight for us—the poor." This is a prequel to Then Maker, another story of mine. The writing may feel somewhat outdated compared to my more recent work, but it consists of a series of scenes that occur before the main events of the novel. The description is one of my most recent pieces, which is why it differs in style from the rest of the book.
Thornton_Chase · 1.6K Views
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