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A Gamer's Guide 157
🕑 Added 2023-07-31 15:58:57 +0000 UTCMy eyes flare open and I fly to my feet, briefly disoriented before keeling over to regurgitate two lung’s worth of disgusting dark water.
Haah, haah, haah, I’m… alive…?
<The next time you try that,
you won’t be quite so lucky.>
I turn to the beast of fraud with a glare.
“Why?”
If hounds could roll their eyes, that’s what the beast would have done here.
<Are you asking me,
or are you asking the Tutorial?>
I open my mouth to answer but quickly close it again.
Slowly, I walk over to it where it sits. Then, I sit down, facing it. Arms crossed, I frown up at it. “I’m asking you.”
<I see. Equally rude and clever,
just as They said.>
I’m just about to say something sharp at it when it continues.
<Indeed, it would be a shame
to lose such a valuable warrior so early.>
“I’m going to kill you,” I say without the tiniest shift in inflection. “Your level isn’t that high. Once I’ve grinded a bit with those dogs, I’m going to defeat you.”
It looks at me for a moment.
<If you are nonetheless to
kill the dogs, you may as well
finish the quest by bringing me their purses.>
I quirk an eyebrow at it.
<That way, I may at least fulfill my duty
to bring you into the abyss
before you defeat me.>
“And that’s okay with you?” My eyes briefly dart down to look at its tight golden collar, then back up at its calm, icy-blue eyes. “You’re totally okay with me using you, and then killing you? Do you even know what death means? And don’t tell me there’s a doggy heaven for good boys like you who go into their graves because your master told you to.”
<Of course not. It isn’t needed.
There is no joy higher than
to live and die for those you love.>
My back bristles and I briefly uncross my arms to run a hand through my hair. “Hang on a minute. One second. Are you trying to say that you love me, or that you love the gods? Because that was a really weird way of phrasing it either way.”
<I love my creator, the God of Harvest.>
Its eyes sharpen.
<To you, I am ambivalent.>
“But you’ll still die for me?”
<I’ll gladly die for the sake of the world
I was born for. However, that still assumes
you are capable of defeating me.>
I leap to my feet. “H—hey! Of course I’ll be able to defeat you, you big furry oaf! If I wanted to, I could tie a knot out of your limbs and go fishing with your wormy tongue!”
Somehow, in return, the beast actually smirks. Can dogs do that? Apparently.
<For now, why not focus on defeating the
actual enemies of this floor?>
“The actual…?”
And, as if on cue, a paw stretches out from inside the puddle, thin skin and loose fur stretched over a bony canine body. The rest of the creature soon pulls itself out, panting with every movement it makes like a malbred pug. The fur is wet and dark, saggy in some places where there is more flesh than bone, stretched thin where the dog’s meat and organs have grown bloated. The neck is choked shut by a thin piece of rope, upon which dangles a soggy, wet purse. Like an actual money purse. The kind a little old lady would keep her coins and little notes in—that kind of purse.
<Drowned Dog (Lv.64)>
It turns to me, a spool of foamy saliva webbing down the side of its necrotic jaws. Empty eyes. Pupilless. It doesn’t really see me in the typical sense, the way the beast of fraud looks at me, or I at it. It’s more like an animatronic, rigid as it steps towards me, fleshless limbs dragging a bloated body.
I point a finger at it. “That thing? I have to defeat a bunch of those?”
It doesn’t answer me, probably because it knows what I said wasn’t really a question. Very well. If it wants to leave me to my fate, so be it.
I’ve dealt with zombies before. This will be no different.
I hunch down into position and the second it lunges at me I in turn fly at it, rolling into a ball mid-air to briefly confuse it. But it isn’t confused. Or, rather, it shows no confusion whatsoever. Like a dog flying after a ball that was never thrown, it keeps going, even though it doesn’t actually know where I am. It leaps into the air, jaws wide, luck alone guiding it to bite into an arm I chose to sacrifice.
We both clatter to the floor. I scrape up my back a little and I can hear one or two of the dog’s brittle bones breaking, but it doesn’t care and neither do I. Jumping to my feet, I abuse every inch of my enhanced balance skill to keep on my feet, something that proves itself more than difficult once the dog pulls me into a tug-’o-war over my own arm. One made all the more difficult since the floor is about as slippery as any political slope.
I loose footing within seconds, the dog mindlessly leaping atop me, jaws grinding the bones of my forearm to dust as its paws stab into my chest. It’s as heavy as you’d expect a drowned corpse to be, and it uses that to its advantage.
At this moment, the only thing between its frothing jaws and my head is my one arm.
Experimentally, I reach down and use my free hand to pop its bloated belly like a balloon. And it does indeed pop, releasing a stench more noxious than any can of surstömming alongside a homogeneous slurry of organs, each completely indiscernible from the other.
<You have learned:
Enhanced Scent Lv.7>
Aaaaaaaand it just got worse. Ah, wonderful. Anyhow, I’ve had enough of this farce, so I reach up and tear out the jaw again, which is just as effective as it was underwater. Just as before, the dog isn’t very interested in giving up and sticking its tail between its legs, so it keeps going, now trying to scratch at me with its paws. An ardent attempt to be sure, but I don’t care.
I would have been more interested in how it keeps going even with its paws broken, but I’ve played this game before, and my strats are already perfected. Cut off the head, dismember the body, stick most of it into the inventory, wonder about how a cut-off head can still pant if it’s disconnected from the mushified lungs in its main body…
—Notice the purse. It’s still connected to the bit of string, but the purse remains unopened. Out of sheer curiosity, I pick it up. It’s far from heavy, though the being-fully-soaked aspect is weighing it down a little. Not as much as the small clinking things inside of it, though.
Only now that I open the purse does the dog show any hint of emotion, whining in fear. Hm.
I peek inside the purse. I can feel my brows furrow as I remove the two coins from inside. They aren’t from Earth, but they also aren’t any kind that I can recall from purgatory, though they’re heavy enough to be made of some kind of valuable material. The two coins have the same design, that being a goblin on one side and a dragon on the other—which looks really cool if you ask me—but they aren’t fully equal in shape, showing that they’re hand-made. I almost want to pop one in my mouth to see if I gain anything, but I don’t think I’d get anything other than a stomach ache and a judgemental look from the beast of fraud.
Remembering that I’m not alone in here, I peek over at the beast. It’s looking at me. It doesn’t even look away at my noticing it’s looking at me. That’s rude. I’m pretty sure that’s rude.
“Don’t you have anything better to do than watch me?” I spit at it.
<Such as?>
“I don’t know. Chase invisible squirrels. Growl at empty corners. You know, typical dog stuff?”
<I have as much in common with dogs
As you do with apes.>
Is it my imagination, or is that beast smirking?
<A surprising lot, that is.>
“Hey, stop making fun of me!” I say, giving it the stinkiest eye I can manage, unfortunately not beating the putrid stench caused by my defeating the dog. “I didn’t ask for your quips.”
<Would you rather I remain silent?>
I pause. Frowning, I turn to look at the still whimpering drowned dog’s head. Not really thinking, I mutter, “I don’t know. Do I?”
Again, no response from the beast. Is it… no, is he making fun of me by trying to make my dreams come true? Hah! Does he seriously think I have some sort of need to talk? To him? To anyone? Idiotic. Dumb. Stupid. I can go months without talking, no problem! Just because there’s silence where there could be conversation doesn’t mean anything. Same silence as before. Doesn’t mean anything whatsoever.
I grind my teeth.
“So, um…” I pick up the dog’s head. “No comment on my tactics?”
<Is that what you call what you just did?>
“Fighting style. Strategy. Whatever.” Growling, I turn to look at him again. “No thoughts about it whatsoever? With the ripping and tearing and disembowelment?” I hope I don’t sound as desperate for conversation as I feel. “Most people don’t like looking at it, you know.”
<As a fellow beast, it would be hypocritical
to look down upon your form of killing.
It’s mere survival. Those who fight with swords
and arrows could never understand it.>
“Exactly!” I blurt out. “And then they still go and judge you because you didn’t live up to the expectations they set on themselves! Like, sorry you’ve got high standards or whatever, but, like, that’s just not me, right? I’ve got my own style, and—fun fact—if I did it like you did, I’d be dead! Easy as that, so, like—”
My jaw snaps shut. The beast looks at me oddly.
My teeth grind together and the sliver of a smile I’d mustered quickly slips off. “...Nevermind. You’re just a tutorial construct. You can’t possibly understand it.”
For a few seconds, he just stares at me. Deliberating. Thinking.
<...Bring me the two coins
in your hand.>
I look down at the coins, rubbing them together for a moment to hear them scrape before standing up and wandering over to the beast. Holding out the two coins, I’m honestly not surprised when it leans forward and eats them out of my hand like a horse eating sugar cubes. He quickly swallows them, and the moment the coins leave his throat, I hear a sigh from behind me, only just having time to turn around before the status message pops up.
<1/50 purses collected.>
<Drowned Dog (Lv.64) Defeated.>
“...Huh.”
The beast licks his lips.
<A simple purpose, as you see.
My three brothers seldom speak.
Most challengers do not need
to be spoken to, and so they do not
hear our voices.
I speak to you for the simple purpose
that you need to be spoken to.
No creator told me thusly. I chose this
myself, as I chose to save your life.
However, whether you listen or not
is not my choice to make.>
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Question Mark
Is this the slow, but steady start of the redemption of Ho-jae?
