Dema sat on an old couch in a cosy living room, slowly turning through the pages of a book entirely filled with pressed herbs and flowers.
“Damn, that’s a cute one! Theora gave it to once.”
“It’s a Morning Glory,” the old man said, smiling. He had gathered and put together his collection of plants over decades, and the mont Dema had shown the slightest interest in it, he’d not stopped for a second from showing it all off.
Dema and Theora had finally arrived in Callarand — the side quest’s final destination. Now, they had to find where the Devil of Truth was currently located, and as always, Theora had decided to settle down in one of the larger cities for a while and ask the locals.
The old man had been kind enough to offer them a place to stay. His husband had died and all adopted children were out of the house, so now there was enough space to let adventurers stay every now and then. Unfortunately, despite his age, he didn’t know anything about the Devil of Truth, because he’d only arrived in this region so decades ago.
Almost 100 years in the past — around the ti Dema and Theora t — the Devil of Truth had attacked Callarand. That, people rembered. But the details of the attack were now the fabric of myths and legends, as about every person who lived to see it had died of old age.
It was no densely populated area, and if any archivists or librarians had recorded these events, they’d still need to find them.
“Still, Morning Glory…” he mused after having fallen into thought for a bit. “What a peculiar choice of a flower to gift soone. You two must have a close relationship.”
Dema started grinning wide. “Why, of course! We’ve been travelling together for so long. No way we wouldn’t get, like, super tight!” She interlocked both of her index fingers to empathise her words, and winked. “We know all about each other! By heart.”
The old man wasn’t impressed, and raised a single eyebrow sowhat higher than one would expect to be possible on his weathered and kind face. He’d known the two of them for a while now, and seed to have gathered so idea about them. “That’s a lie, isn’t it?”
Dema’s expression fell apart and was replaced with a show of exaggerated pained sadness. “Big, total lie, yeah! All she ever does is sleep! I feel like she doesn’t love at all.”
She pursed her lips to one side and then shrugged. “Well, that’s a lie too. She’s just feeling down a lot, working through so issues, you know? I just wish she’d talk about them more with . I feel like she needs a big, strong sis who can give her one hell of a hug and wring all her troubles out, but too bad, she’s already the strongest. And she’s taller than I am! Big bumr.”
She acted like she was looking into the distance wistfully, then caught herself. “Oh, but it’s not all bad. The few monts she does spend awake, she can’t help but shower with affection, and doesn’t even realise!”
At that mont, Theora entered the room from the adjacent kitchen, having overheard the entire conversation from just a few steps away. “You are talking nonsense again. I don’t do any showering with affection,” she said, placing Dema’s morning tea down on the table in front of her. “Here. I tried making fruit tea this ti. Oranges and cherries. Let know if you like it.”
Dema stared at the old man, shaking her head and suppressing a smile, her hands raised to point at Theora. “See!? Such a cutie.” The old man laughed as he watched Dema give him knowing looks while she put down the book to try and taste the tea she had so generously received.
“We need to get out early today,” Theora murmured in thought. “We still haven’t made any progress towards finding the Devil, and we are running out of ti.”
“Why, sleepyhead, for that, you’ve only got yourself to bla,” Dema sing-songed.
Theora perked up to stare at her, brows raised in ever so slight shock. “Oh, there I go again. I apologise.” Theora sighed, trying hard to contain her disappointnt with herself. “I am making you suffer for my own shortcomings and mistakes. Please, feel free to stay ho and rest.”
“Wait, what!” Dema yelped. “Hell no! I wanna join. Let join! I was just teasing!”
“Of course, you can join.” Theora shook her head in confusion. “I was just saying that you don’t need to feel like you have to. You are still welco.”
“Alright!” Dema replied with more force in her voice than would be necessary. “Alright, I’ll join, then!”
“Alright. Yes, then please do.”
“I so will!”
Theora frowned, feeling lost. “Why are you so stirred up about this?”
The old man ca to the rescue. “I think she might not like to be separated from you.”
The mont she heard that suggestion, Theora’s brain stopped working. The phrase did not parse. “What?” was all she managed to stamr out.
“That’s right!” Dema confird. “Don’t wanna be lonely! I need you doting on .” Demonstratively, she took the first sip from her tea, and her eyes widened. “Damn, little rabbit! This one’s actually good!”
Theora’s mouth stood open for a mont. “What do you an, ‘this one’? The others haven’t been?”
“Yeah, the others sucked! Bitter sses.” She pulled a grimace as she rembered them. “But this one’s amazing.”
“I’ve been making you tea all week. Why haven’t you told ?”
Dema shrugged sheepishly. “Because I thought you were gonna stop making tea if I said anything?”
“Of course I would have stopped making you tea if it was bad.” After all, her goal wasn’t to make Dema suffer.
“Yeah, but this one ain’t bad! So sweet and running down my throat like… Well, like blood. I do love drinking blood. Maybe it’s the cherries, they always make think of blood.” Dema pulled her gaze back down from the ceiling to end her nostalgic thoughts. “What I’m tryna say is, it was worth the effort! Now you can brew tea.”
In emphasis, she downed the rest of the cup in one go, even though it must have still been way too hot. And, as if to add insult to injury, a System notification popped up the mont she finished.
You have learned the Skill [Tea Brewing].
[Tea Brewing] advanced to Level 2!
Theora was overwheld by this to the point of feeling dizzy. She slumped down, right on the ground where she was standing. This was too much. Why was her chest feeling so warm and big and fuzzy?
Dema felt lonely without her? That had to be a lie, right? After all, the old man was very nice company.
Dema liked her tea? Had barely even teased her over it. Just a full-on, direct and honest complint.
Was this so kind of attack? She felt like she was going to burst.
And then, that Skill. Sitting there at the bottom of her ugly and glitched-out stat sheet. Oh, how pretty it was, especially right next to the equally beautiful [Flower Language]. Almost enough to drown out the dark pressure exerted by [Obliterate] above them.
“Damn, you good?” Dema’s voice echoed in her mind and tore her out of her thoughts.
“Oh, yes. I just received a new Skill. So I got distracted.”
“Huh? Another Skill? That sucks! Sorry for you!”
“What?” Theora looked up, and at that exact mont, Dema seed to realise she’d said sothing wrong.
“No, I an, it’s great if you like the Skill!” she backpedalled. “Just, you know? The UI issue. Only gonna get worse the more Skills you receive.”
What was she talking about? Was she referring to her glitched stat sheet? How would more Skills make that worse?
“I have no idea what you an?”
“Well,” Dema started, looking a little lost. “You know, the thing? With the terrible UI design? Whoever made the System seriously ssed up. If you learn tons of Skills, it will list them all on your stat sheet, right?”
“Yes?”
“Yes,” Dema continued. “But the sheet has the big, big problem that when you pull it up, it always defaults to show the bottom of the Skill page. I guess maybe whoever made it thought you’d wanna see the newest Skills first. But I open my sheet to see my stats! It’s a big pain, whenever I just wanna check my HP or sothing, I gotta scroll all the way up to the top just to see them, through all those different Skills. I imagine it must be even worse for you.”
Theora’s gaze darted back to her stat sheet. It was amazingly short and ssy, and a true horror to look at. A reflection of self-inflicted scars that would never heal. The result of becoming the strongest person in the world, and then continuing to push. The answer to the question of what happened when one used [Obliterate] on one’s own stats, out of pure morbid curiosity — and, in a further desperate attempt to avoid one’s fate by destroying reality.
₦₳: Theꝋɍⱥ Cl?ᒪ???: H̶e̷r̴o̴ Leve̶͉͚͐́͆l̶͕͔̠̐̉: �̝̤͓̼̺̹̄͊̾̾̀██̴̨̺͍̥́ͥ́͆ͫ
HP: ███̴̨̺͍̥́ͥ́͆ͫ̿█͚? / _̢͎͈̘̰̪̟͎̍͋̐̒ͭ̾͛ͦͥ̂̔͘ͅ�̨̺͖ͪ³̵̵̲̲̘̬̤̲̰̝ͨ́͋ͧ̍͌ͫ͆̋̏ͤ̄̿̈́̚_̕
STR: �̖͓̲̰̪̱͗̄͜ͅ67░ DEx̶̸̨̛̞͙̮̳͈̭͓͎͙̪̖̋ͥ̎ͫ͋͌͐̾̿ͣͮ̏ͥ͛̈́̏ͮ́ͯ͘͢͞͡: �̖͓̲̰̪̱͗̄͜ͅ
MNＤ: █̢̻͍̙̲̺̬̞̰̣̬̗̞̊͒ͫ̂́ͤ̄̊͂́͋̈́ͣͥ̂̀͊͒͆ͥ͢͢͠█�̧̝̳͚͙̻̝̤̔̾ͣͭVIT: -2█̴̨̺͍̥́ͥ́͆ͫ̿█͚
DEF: 6�̪̘̣͙͕̺̦͇͛̈ͯ͟_̢͎͈̘̰̪̟͎̍͋̐̒ͭ̾͛ͦͥ̂̔͘ͅ�̨̺͖ͪ
Ski�̝̤͓̼̺̹̄͊̾̾̀s:
[Obliterate] Lv. MAX
[Flower Language] Lv. 66, [Tea Brewing] Lv. 2
It was painful to look at, a total disaster. It’s not like using [Obliterate] on it had even accomplished anything. Now, her stats were completely unaffected by any external changes; but they’d already been so high before that it functionally made no difference at all. A true waste, and a testant of how impatient and tired and broken she was. An empty shell filled with glitches and nothingness that would usurp and delete and overwrite whatever she let inside.
On the other hand, what Dema had just said filled that voided emptiness with the tiniest of warm thoughts. An ember of sothing Theora needed a few seconds to identify.
Because, yes — now that Dema ntioned it, there had been sothing like that, a long ti ago. For a while, before her Skills had started to rge into [Obliterate], she’d had so many that looking at her stat sheet was a chore. Because she’d needed to scroll up for so long to find the simplest amount of information on herself.
“That’s perfect,” she mumbled.
“What? What’s perfect?” Dema echoed.
This really was amazing.
What if she just kept collecting pretty Skills? What if, at one point, she’d have found so many beautiful and precious Skills that they’d cleanse away all that havoc, so she’d never have to look at her botched and ssed-up sheet again?
It was a true wonder to behold in her head, the pure thought of it overwhelming her like a warm wave of glittering sumr sea. She had to swallow hard, because that image alone made her choke up.
Yes.
How about she just did that? Maybe she could learn to fill the world with beautiful things.
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