Chapter 585 - Dumb Human, Dumb Demon (Patreon)

As we walk up the metal stairs and head toward the elevator, Whitey lets out a little laugh. Just one, and then he stuffs his mouth with more pizza.

We reach the elevator and I press a single red button, which brings us upward. The higher we go, the better view he has of the shuttle and the surrounding nature. A dry, mostly reddish, rocky, and dusty area. Still, there is a rough beauty to it.

The elevator shakes, creaks, and stops, and the door opens to a metal mesh ramp. We walk through it and into the space shuttle. Even inside, everything looks a bit worn and made in a style I have seen others on Earth call NASA punk.

There are many white, leathery panels covering the walls. Numerous important-looking buttons and monitors with green screens display white text. There is always something that chimes, beeps or emits a similar noise, and even the air carries that nostalgic smell.

I glance around, noticing scratches and faded stickers plastered randomly on surfaces, some peeling at the edges. A few handwritten notes are stuck next to certain buttons, containing warnings or hastily scribbled reminders.

On the floor beneath our feet, loose wires stick out from cracked panels, hastily taped with silver tape. Some buttons are labeled with yellow sticky notes bearing words like "Don't press," "Maybe press," or simply question marks. This place feels chaotic but wonderfully alive.

I close the door and lock it just as I would lock my house, with a key and everything. Surely, there are some parts where my imagination took the easy way out.

We reach the cockpit and sit there almost vertically, reclining in the chairs and looking out through windows that are likely larger than what shuttles usually have.

Neither of us buckle up, and then the countdown starts out of nowhere. Biscuit's voice counting down for us, sounding from the loudspeakers around us.

(Ten.)

(Eight.)

(Nine.)

(Seven.)

(Four.)

(Six.)

(Five.)

(Three.)

(Three.)

(Two.)

(One.)

(Food!)

And me saying, "Damn, I miss that corgi."

The space shuttle shakes wildly as we start off, defying logic and physical laws. This is merely an imagination, glued together from memories of movies and random facts and videos from the internet.

We launch, and our bodies press into the chairs as the shuttle gathers more and more speed. The vibrations are widely sent through the air, and the feeling is akin to even my bones shaking as if the entire thing around us is about to break apart.

Outside the windows, the sky quickly darkens from pale blue to near-black, briefly streaked with fiery oranges and reds. Clouds vanish below us, replaced by a dizzying curve of the planet that appears both vast and impossibly small at once. My grip tightens instinctively on the chair's armrests, my knuckles white, yet somehow I feel a thrill instead of fear as if my body already knows this isn't quite real and has chosen to enjoy the chaos.

It probably should take longer, but after around 30 seconds we are in space, where the vibrations stop and the fuel tanks, or whatever these things are, fall off to be burned in the atmosphere.

I get out of the chair as a feeling of weightlessness hits us, and both of us now float in the cabin. The shuttle drives itself toward the moon, which seems much closer than it should be.

Hitting the wall, I push myself toward the boxes tied to one of the chairs, take one of the boxes, and start eating the still hot pizza. I toss one of the boxes through the air toward Whitey, who catches it.

For a moment, I float still, fascinated by the surreal quietness broken only by soft hums and creaks echoing within the shuttle's metal bones. I turn slowly, spinning once, then twice, taking in the messy yet oddly comforting sight of boxes and crumbs floating alongside us, already forming a miniature solar system of pizza debris.

Whitey floats by one of the massive circular windows that shouldn't exist, staring out at the empty space and Earth while taking slow bites.

After a few minutes, he says without looking in my direction, "My name is Lioren."

"Thank you for telling me, Lioren. My name is Nathaniel."

Looking ahead, the moon grows rapidly larger, and its surface details sharpen: craters, mountains, and mysterious shadows become visible even from here.

A silence ensues until we crash onto the moon's surface. The front of the shuttle hits it, and the shuttle jolts upward, throwing us against the walls. The gravity, although not as strong as on Earth, hits us again. The shuttle slides for about a dozen seconds, hitting rocks, bouncing, and emitting loud screeching noises until it comes to a stop.

Lioren steps out first as the door opens, and I follow, jumping down onto the surface of the moon. Neither of us wears a spacesuit or anything.

Out there, a flag is planted into the surface, an American one. Not far from it is a lunar car and even a lunar module.

Nearby, an astronaut sits on the edge of a small moon cliff, legs dangling over the drop. I walk up and take a seat beside the figure.

The suit is one of those old-school Apollo models, bulky, white, and covered in lunar dust. The gold visor reflects the curve of Earth and the black void beyond. Tubes cross the chest, and gloved hands rest quietly in the lap.

"Do you know a good pizza spot?" I ask.

The astronaut doesn’t answer, just slowly lifts right arm and points off toward the horizon.

I follow the direction of the gloved finger. Of course, it's pointing straight at Earth, glowing like a marble against the blackness of space.

"Oh, you must think you're funny, you asshole," I mutter, smacking the back of the astronaut’s helmet with the flat of my hand.

"I'm sorry, sir," comes the muffled voice from inside the suit. It’s NPCandra, and she starts sobbing quietly, her voice barely audible through the thick helmet.

I'm disappointed by the same reaction as before, but I guess it makes sense. It's not like I have the experience to “program” more. This is just an imitation, a looping clip of something I imagined.

Lioren walks by without stopping, casually slapping the top of her helmet as well. Then he plops one of the empty pizza boxes on it and says, "You have to balance it here for ten minutes, or I’ll cut off your air."

"N-no! I'm sorry!" she whimpers, her voice cracking as she tries to hold still. We keep walking, leaving her behind, arms stretched slightly for balance, the pizza box wobbling on top of her helmet as she sniffles and struggles not to let it fall.

We walk away in silence, the moon's surface stretching endlessly around us. Each step feels slow and weightless, our bodies drifting slightly before settling back down, the low gravity turning every movement into a floaty rhythm. The only sounds are the faint crunch of dust beneath our boots. The Earth hangs in the black sky, distant and quiet, like it’s watching.

After a while, Lioren slows down. He stops beside a small slope, brushes some dust away with his boot, then lowers himself onto the ground.

With a soft motion, he spreads a piece of white cloth over the moon’s surface and looks up at me, "Will you eat with me?"

"Gladly," I say and sit down.

I patiently wait as he sets his feet on the ground. In front of us lies a pizza box, a few cans of soda, some sweets, and pieces of fruit that I recognize as the ones he liked as a young demon.

Above us, the Earth hangs bright, impossibly vivid with swirling clouds and blue oceans, almost glowing in the darkness. It feels strangely comforting to see it from here, like finding something familiar in a dream. I glance at Lioren, noticing how calm he looks, watching me closely as if committing this strange picnic to memory.

Then, while he waits, I devour all the food.

When it’s done I look up and see Lioren smiling.

Then I get kicked out of mind space by him and find myself back in my workshop on the tournament floor, knowing that if I leave it up to him, this was the goodbye.

***

In the last hours until the 4th event, I sit alone in my room and think. I think very deeply and repeatedly, replaying everything I know about Lissandra and her behavior. This time, even though it's not something I'm great at, I try to predict how she would behave in reaction to what I plan to do.

But in the end, I stand up, open the door, and walk downstairs to the living room where some Group 4 members are waiting, especially Izzy.

"Izzy, do you have a moment?" I ask her.

With her green eyes, she looks up at me from the laptop, where I know she is often editing videos that she and others have made.

"Sure!" she agrees without hesitation, and as always when talking to someone, her senses reach out to me to connect to my feelings.

It's something she does almost instinctively and is very hard to notice. There are probably only a few people in each round capable of sensing that, and even fewer who can detect her surface scans of feelings. I'm not one of those people, even though I'm aware this kind of scan exists.

Izzy acts a bit surprised when I allow her to connect, but she follows behind me outside of the house into the garden.

I sit down with her and explain everything, then ask about Lissandra. She listens closely, nodding a few times.

I then receive my answer and an unexpected hug.

"If you need help…"

"I know, I will ask," I confirm. "It's fine."

***

The 4th event starts and I am moved into the Great Labyrinth of Xyphos along with thousands more. It is underground, with a wall made of smooth red rock imbued with white crystals that emit light. The walls are made of pure gray stone that is extremely smooth, as is the floor.

Other than that, this is a single huge room, big enough to easily fit the hundreds of attendees who are currently around me, and the ceiling itself is as high as that of a two to three-story building.

Then there is a door; it has no knob or inscription, just a huge slab of black wood. At its lower part, within reach of a normal human, there is a glowing white handprint.

I ignore the people around me and shut my eyes, forcing my way into my mind space despite the attempts to stop me.

This time it is dark and empty here, and Lioren stands opposite me in the same clothes his lurker used to wear.

"Fuck off," he greets me.

I smile at him and sit down patiently.

He stares me down, "What the fuck are you planning?"

"I knew since the start of the tournament, that you plan to disappear at its end," I say.

"So what?" he shrugs and sits down. "It's my decision to make."

"Why only after the tournament, and why not try to take over my body?"

"It's my decision to cut it short, not the tutorial's. I've shown you everything I could. Your untalented ass will have to figure out the rest. And look, Nathaniel, you're a fucking mess right now. Disappearing in the middle of that would just be a dick move."

"I'm fine."

"Sure," he snorts, "the true question is, why the hell are you here?"

He avoids answering the second question, unsurprisingly.

"It seems I'm the mature one here," I sigh. "So, to say, you could always take over my mind and do it at any time. It would be easy, and the other option for you is to die. Yet you never did it. You thought about it, I saw those memories, but you never did it."

"I just didn't feel like it."

"I know," I smile, "but I'm a dumb human with a weak heart and a pathetic talent for kinetic energy."

"Sounds like you."

"So, in my human dumbness, I always regarded it as a token of your friendship, the greatest you could probably show me."

Lioren snorts, "Dumb human, indeed. You know I'm just a fake from the tutorial."

"Where you came from doesn’t matter to me. Now let me finish. You’ve got a few days left, but I’m an asshole, so I’m asking you to 'die' today."

He watches me intently, "So cruel. Explain."

"As much as I dislike it, I know I can’t change your mind or convince you to stay longer. I’ve seen enough of your memories to respect your decision. But to explain myself, when it comes to certain things, my life doesn’t mean all that much to me. So, Lioren, to show just how stupid I am for calling a random demon hallucination in my head a friend, and how much I actually trust you, I’m going to give you something I value even more than that."

I look straight at him. "I will put the life of my friend into your hands, and I will give you an opportunity to go wild one more time and crush the fourth event. I made some preparations, and even while talking, a part of my mind is deploying the arrays and inscriptions to modify my mana and kinetic flow.

"She won't like it."

"I’m aware. It is something for me to deal with. It will be fine."

"Famous last words, was that the human saying?"

"Indeed. I will take a step back, so please, show me the right way to use kinetic energy; you have my permission to break my body in the process."

"Craziest fucking human I have ever met."

"I hear that a lot."

***

POV Brainiac

The huge room with hundreds of attendees is full of sounds as they party up, plan out things, and examine our area.

Not many notice the white palm on the massive wooden door, but I think it might be the key to opening it, possibly leading to another room or into the labyrinth.

It is not something I worry about too much. Most of my attention is on Noname.

He stands in the middle of the room, eyes closed, mana seeping from his body. I can follow it much better now than I could during the first tournament, and it's not like he's trying to hide it, but damn, it's wild.

The fucker moves his mana around himself, carving inscriptions into his body, over his chest, across his hands and arms. The crown on his head flickers until it vanishes. The pressure of his mana builds, and he starts making even crazier changes I can barely follow. Since he's not hiding it, I can see more now. The way he moves his mana is chaotic, but there's purpose in it.

It flashes, it beats, it moves, turning into threads and the area around him feels oppressive. It flares up only to die off or sends pulses of weaker mana through the area-

I don't think I'm that bad at handling mana, but the guy is batshit crazy. A single slip-up, a single mistake, and the amount of mana he's using would tear him apart. On top of that, he's even suppressing the waves around him so he doesn't kill anyone below Hell difficulty nearby.

Then his heart starts beating audibly, and more of his mana seeps into the area, forcing those from lower difficulty around him to move away. That mana fills the room and bounces off the walls before returning to him.

His mana gradually fades as the dense inscriptions across his chest glow briefly before vanishing. I've never seen anything like them, not even on low arcane weapons.

All of his mana vanishes, followed by an audible thump. Then another, and another, until I realize it's his heartbeat. But that heart doesn't generate mana anymore; it generates something else, using all the mana to do so.

His black hair, drifting around his head in rhythm with his heartbeat, begins turning white at the roots until it's completely bright white. Noname opens his eyes as their color shifts from gray and brown to a vivid red.

To my surprise, Noname smiles brightly and hops in place. He moves his arms and legs like he’s testing them, then a satisfied expression spreads across his face. He taps his chest over where his heart is and nods, smiling even more.

"Such a ridiculously dumb output," he says. "Fucking dumb human brute."

***

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