New story - But not really - Chapter 1 (But also not really) (Patreon)

Weaponsmith chapter is tomorrow, sorry! I have a crushing deadline to deal with at the moment. Take this instead for today please. It is part 1 of chapter 1 of a new story to come out ‘in the future’. The real chapter 1 will be longer, but this is what I have at the moment. =)

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I used to want to be a poet as a child, but people always made fun of me — So after I got older, I decided to become the terrible Demon-King and kill everyone instead!

[Dungeon-Core][Base Building][litRPG][Villain]

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Tender blossoms float upon the crystal waters, azure and calm;

Carrying upon their supple bodies the shimmering dew of the promising day that is now soon to be;

Frogs croak to greet the sun, owls hoot to part from the moon, geese honk for the sake of it — the time between night and morning arrives;

And I sit here, alone, and watch as sun comes to rise;

Today will be a good d-

Someone rips the paper out of his hands.

“Hey!” shouts Swain, jumping up to his feet. A hand pushes him back a step. “- Give that back!” he cries, snatching for the poem that another boy has taken and now dangles above his head. His pen drops to the ground, rolling into the water of the pond.

It’s him again. Roster.

Swain had come here to this park that is far out of the way to be alone on purpose, before lectures start today at the city’s central magic academy. The others always make fun of him because of the way he is. So he tries to spend as much time away from everyone else his own age as possible. Older people don’t really see him. He’s just kind of ignored by them, or maybe it’s more apt to say that’s simply invisible to their eyes. But the other kids his age…

“What the hell is this?” asks Roster, carelessly holding the sheet of paper. “- You some kind of girl?” he asks, looking at the poem.

“Give that back! It’s mine!” shouts Swain, lunging at him. Someone else grabs him from behind, yanking on his arm and pulling him back. He fights back, but the other boy who always follows Roster around, Triss, is also larger and stronger. Triss holds him there, Swain’s arm being bent at a painful angle.

Roster scoffs, leaning down and looking at him. “This is girl stuff, freak,” he says. “Good thing we followed you out here to teach you a lesson. Or you’ll never learn to be normal.”

“That’s not true!” says Swain. “Guys write poems too! All knights and even a few heroes wrote poems! It’s in the books an-” The air and spit in his mouth fly out of it as the fist hits his stomach, causing him to keel over. A pain shoots through his shoulder-blade as his twisted arm tries to keep up with his sinking and shaking legs.

(Roster) has punched (Swain) for {01} damage!

“Did you hear that, Triss?” asks Roster. Triss is laughing. “This weirdo thinks he’s like a hero!” Swain hears the sound of crumpling paper and looks up as the boy throws the poem into the pond.

“Yeah. What a loser,” says Triss and throws him down to the ground. “You grab his arms,” he says. “I got his legs. Ready?” Swain tries to struggle free from their grasp, as they hoist him up and swing him back.

— Something screams loudly off to the side, breaking the serenity of the otherwise peaceful morning.

Swain thinks that some animal got angry because of the ruckus. But the voice is much hoarser and shrill and scratchy.

He lurches to the side, falling back down to the ground that he had just left, as something rams into his attackers, knocking Triss over.

A howl fills the air.

Swain turns around, looking up at the terrifying eyes of the wild figure that has latched onto Triss from behind, having jumped onto his back to indiscriminately bite into the side of his face like a ghoul.

(???) has tackled and bit (Triss) for {02} damage!

[Applied Status: Minor Bleeding][Light Grapple]

Triss throws the new attacker off, striking back with his fist which connects to its head. He crawls away through the mud to run away to Roster.

(Triss) has punched (???) for {01} damage!

Swain doesn’t really know what to think at that moment. The world is still spinning before his eyes. Triss runs past him, a hand pressing against his face to stop the slight trickle of blood coming from beneath his lower jaw, tears are in his eyes.

He doesn’t really know what to think, as he stares at the lanky, gangly creature that has torn out of the tree-line of the park like a wild monster. It straightens itself back upright, a deep red mark around the side of its face. Hair, short and unkempt, frays out in many directions to catch the glow of the morning sunshine, which is seemingly trapped inside of its ashy lockes.

Red trickles down her mouth, as she lifts her eyes with a demon’s gaze towards the two boys, who are not only larger than her, but have regrouped and look ready to take on the challenger.

— She screams, contorting her face and leaning in towards them. Spit mixed with fresh blood flies out of her mouth and lands on his face.

It’s not a scream of words or of any coherent things. It’s just a wild, feral cry of a creature that had grown up in the deepest, darkest places of the world, trapped in a constant, desperate bid for animal survival. It is the voice of a hungry predator, scaring away a competitor from a fresh kill.

“Come on! Let’s get out of here!” Roster grabs his friend and the two of them run off, having lost their will to fight after all.

Swain crawls back towards a tree, staring at the terrifying creature, the rabid girl, who is standing there in a stiff, ready posture for more attackers. But nobody comes.

He’s heard stories about things like this. People who get bitten by undead ghouls often transform into violent, shrieking monsters.

Her eyes lower themselves down his way, staring with a cold intensity. Swain gulps, trying to crawl back further, but his back is already against a tree. Roster and Triss are bad enough. But this person looks… worse. They’re huge assholes, but this creature here, this girl, is —

Her vision focuses on him intently, staring into his eyes with a cold look he has never seen before. The hairs on his neck stand on end, as his heart strikes violently in his chest.

— A demon.

Breaking the spell over his mind, the girl jumps into the dirty pond. Murky water splashes everywhere.

He blinks, watching as she swims out and then swims back again, rising out of the mud and muck as unbothered as could be. The geese honk and swim away. She shakes herself out like a wet dog and then tosses the soggy ball of paper towards him.

Swain looks down at it, confused as he takes it. The wet ink has smeared everywhere. It’s beyond saving. “T… thank you…” says Swain, still not sure that he isn’t going to be eaten. “I uh- I-”

“— Wanting to be like a hero is dumb,” says the girl, leaning down his way. “Are you stupid?”

Swain blinks, fumbling with the wet paper, not having had the strength to get up or to avert his gaze. “W- What?”

“Think of something more impressive next time,” she says. “Who wants to be like a hero? That’s so lame. I bet you study for tests too.” She tsks, turning her head to the side. “Not that I’d know. Never took one.”

“I… I don’t…” Swain shakes his head. “- I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Is she referring to his explanation for why he likes to write poems?

She stands back upright, planting a thumb against herself. “Don’t worry!” says the girl, puffing out her chest and smiling a wide, sharkish smile as blood, indeterminately hers, trickles down her face. The expression makes him very uneasy. “You’re going to work for me as I rise to power. You’ll learn to be way more impressive if you just watch me!”

Swain tilts his head. “I… huh? Thank you for helping me… But… Who are you again?”

She smiles a smug smile, closing her eyes, her thumb remaining where it is on her heart. “You poor fool,” says the girl. “You have a poet’s heart, but the eyes of a frog,” she says. She places her hands on her hips and leans down towards him with an expression that signals to him that he really is about to be devoured now. “You are in the presence of the next great, DEMON-KING!”

“…Huh…” says Swain, processing for a moment. His eyes go wide and he jumps up to his feet. “— Quiet!” hisses the boy, covering her mouth as he looks around the area in new terror. Thankfully, the park is still empty. “You can’t say th- OW!” He winces, pulling his hand back.

(???) has bit (Swain) for {01} damage!

She presses a finger against his forehead, strands of swamp-grass and muck stick to her arm. They don’t seem to bother her at all. “You heard me. I’m going to become the demon-king!” screams the girl at the top of her cracking voice. “— And you’re my first follower.”

“I… uh… what?” Swain tilts his head. “What’s uh — what’s your name?”

“That’s not important for a mortal like you to know,” she says, holding a hand in front of her face to obscure her eyes. “— but you can call me…”

Swain stares at her, his mind still not sure what to make of the situation. But his heart continues to beat rapidly in his chest, so much so, that it seems impossible not to think that his life depends on this very moment. His hand throbs with a fresh pain.

“— Goose.”

He stares at her blankly for a moment. “…What…?”

“HONK!” screams Goose into his face, lowering her hand and pressing her eyes towards his, her voice cracks. Swain yelps, falling back down to the ground. She laughs.

It turns out that she’s not a demon or some creature. She’s just a weirdo.

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