The night went on full. The Yumboes sang traditional songs, their voices high and lodic, while the players (once awake) recounted their battles. Jackson was unsurprisingly the biggest story-teller. The guy had a way with words and taphors in a southern way. The festivities only applied to the able ones. Akihiko and Kenzo, Sarah, and Pauline had to be tended by Kazi. As Kazi suspected, Sylvia forgot, or rather, preferred to drink over helping Pauline. Kazi tried not to judge too harshly.
Morning ca, bringing with it the dark light of dawn. The village was quiet, the only sounds those of the gentle breeze and the occasional snore from the drunken revelers. Kazi slept for half an hour before waking up and going outside. Everyone else slept well into the evening. Emma, Remmy, Kibiwott, Akihiko, and Kenzo, all the players who thought they could volunteer for the midnight-sunrise patrol failed to. They were only human, after all.
Kazi was a little bit more than that.
He didn’t want to alarm anyone. He didn’t want them to worry about so extra boss. They did more than enough. So alone, Kazi Hossain trained and patrolled the periter. If a boss did co, he would slaughter it himself.
With no monsters in the area, however, throughout his patrol, he was fighting the air and the illusions he conjured in his head.
’So far, the only part of combat I’m finding difficult is activating Mastered Flow of Mana alongside skills and created platforms. I initially relied on using the System for Mastered Flow of Mana and skill; not anymore. I can do both now. But doing three at once? I can’t seem to do it and the System can’t help either. The platforms aren’t specified as skills, they are extensions of Godly Shape Control.’
Kazi had been running at full throttle with Mastered Flow of Mana and skidded to a stop, thrusting Stordge forward with a Super Spark Strike. No incantations. No leaning on the System. Kazi could do both acts without hesitation or weakening. He perfected Super Spark Strike. Three inches away from his ankle, a tiny platform manifested. Kazi’s arms fueled itself with mana which rapidly extended toward Stordge for the newly perfected Super Spark Strike.
The principle was there. He understood. He could do it. However, that was only like this when he was taking his sweet ti. Not in the rapid motions of battle. If he started running up with platforms appearing under his feet, the lightning of Stordge went haywire.
’I have to do it myself. The issue is: my mind and soul can imagine the combination without issue. My body can’t seem to keep up. It’s a matter of experience and adjusting. A human body simply cannot go from having no mana at all to activating it like a professional. Like all things, it needs ti.’
To put it another way, Kazi’s learning curve and genius surpassed the limitations of his body. But once it caught up, Kazi would be able to fly through the skies and battle. That much was sure.
After hours of training and patrolling, the sun rose high and wide and he returned to the village. The tables were full of sleeping Yumboes and spilled drinks and eaten fish. Sylvia, Jackson, Kibiwott, Remmy, and Emma were here. Ah, although, Emma was awake, lying flat on a table, her whole fra taking up the wooden length, and blowing blue bubbles with her gum. The gum balloon popped when she turned her head over and saw him. Kazi gave a two-finger salute. Emma nodded, restarted her bubble, and looked back to the sky again.
Kazi entered the player dwelling where the teen boys, Sarah, and Pauline were. Upon his arrival, Pauline pushed herself up from her mat. She must have been expecting him.
"Good morning," Pauline greeted, knees toward herself. She patted the seat next to her. Kazi didn’t take it and preferred to stand.
"Good morning," Kazi replied, all smiles. "Feeling better?"
Pauline stopped patting the seat, a tinge awkward. "Yes, much better."
Kazi crossed his arms. "You did an incredible job, Pauline. You protected Sylvia in a way that no one else did. That takes a lot of courage."
Pauline blushed, ducking her head slightly. "I...I did what I had to."
"Wow, look at you. Not good with complints?"
"A bit..."
They sat in companionable silence for a mont, watching the thicker rays of sunlight enter the dwelling. The world seed peaceful. To think a day ago they had been searing from bloody injuries.
"The Yumboes sure drink a lot, huh," Pauline said, breaking the silence.
"Almost as much as Sylvia," Kazi joked. "I do think she has the edge on them though."
"Haha, true." Her gaze swept across the dwelling and dropped to her dress. She sighed. "Ah, I’m going to have to buy another dress."
"It’s not that bad," Kazi said. "Just give it a good rinse. There’s plenty of good laundry stores out there. I can recomnd so."
Pauline looked up at him.
"What?" he asked.
"I’ve never done laundry before."
"..."
**********
"The Heavenly Tower is a place of little logic. Players can do whatever they want, fight whover they want, and kill whatever is in their path. Yet rarely are two gates ever the sa. There are always minute differences, so would it be strange to say that the tower has myths of its own? Rumours and legends that academy students wish to confirm for themselves?
There is of course the infamous Poems of Ti. The Paradise of the Tower is the one that spurns the hearts of children and for good reason. It is a catchy poem. The words linger in the hearts.
But the myth that has stayed in my heart is that of the Wanderer. I do not study it. I only rember. The Wanderer whose existence has begun since the dawn of the Heavenly Gas, during the Chaotic Era. At random, he wanders in front of lost players and talks in riddles. Back during the Chaotic Era, players were called ’gladiators’. The experience of gladiators and players with the Wanderer has been the sa. Strange words, strange laughter, a strange youthful voice, a strange understanding of the Heavenly Tower, and a strange book in his hands. A small circle of Islamic scholars call him Al-Khidr. That is impossible for Al-Khidr must be on Earth. The Wandering Jew is what the Jewish scholars and rabbi suggest. Again, the Wandering Jew is on Earth. I have recently heard rumblings of Marko Pekelnyi from scholars of the new era. Given its sudden suggestion and its eerie similarity to ’Malchus’, it may be an example of retrospective history and the n of the new Earth thinking themselves superior to their elders.
So who is the Wanderer? His origins lay at the beginning of the Chaotic Era, though not before it. He was born in the ti of the Chaotic. Whether that ans his birth was in that era or if he was already grown, no one can say. After all, the very first Heavenly Ga of the Chaotic Era lasted for twenty years.
Is he waiting for sothing? For soone? Prophecies can make n beco wise or mad. I pray the Wanderer is wise, for his own sake."
- Excerpt from ??, ??
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