Chapter 122

Boiling Breaths (V)

Cain sported mixed emotions as he made his way through dark, narrow, and winding corridors, the only source of light occasional, sparse torch hanging on the damp, bricked walls. Though it was faint, he could feel the decline as he made his way down, the corridors themselves, interconnected it looked like, going in a spiral. This was the path that Akkatov marked for him as he waved him goodbye at the entrance of this damned place.

He’d been at it for nearly twenty minutes; even if he knew that Tamia had quite an ego and that he liked living in exclusive places, this was still a bit too much as far as he was concerned. If it’s like this, he sighed inwardly. They likely installed a Teleportation Shrine for him. Tsk, this is even worse than I imagined...

One reason why he didn’t mind going after Tamia, even knowing the man’s... odd personality, was that he was hopeful the man hadn’t made it yet, that he was just an apprentice who wronged his master and was thus sent out to ‘seek his fortune’. Cain, in extension, planned on becoming that ‘fortune’. If Tamia, however, had already found it... what did Cain have to offer that Albadesh did not?

However rich Cain may be when it came to humans in the Tower, he may as well be a beggar compared to most Tower Natives, and an equivalent to absolutely nothing when compared to an actual city. Fame? Sure, if Taima knew that Cain came from the future, he might accept the idea that Cain would be able to bring him more fame. But there was no way, even if a thousand infernal flames ate away at him for eternity, Cain would ever reveal that to him. As such, to Taima, Cain was just another Conqueror, a newbie at that, competing against a city with tens of thousands of souls, potentially hundreds of thousands in the future.

Materials? In this case, Cain wouldn’t be able to outpace the city even with his future knowledge; he nary focused on where the mines and fields and whatnot were as he didn’t care. The city, on the other hand, had the manpower to send out countless expeditions in search of exotic materials.

There was one more option -- to make the man ‘fall’ for him. Taima’s ‘love’ wasn’t what one would call ‘normal’. It was more akin to fanatical fascination and outright unhealthy obsession; whenever would something pique his interest, usually shrouded in mystique and uncertainty, the man would lose his mind. And Cain certainly had the means to play that part, but it would mean that the heart-eyed and outright stalkerish Taima would be wagging his tail at him for years and years to come.

“Fuckin’ hell...” he mumbled aloud, his voice echoing against the walls, sending back his message at him.

Is it worth it? I mean, it’s not like he’s the only smith... and he’s far from the best... well, he is before at least 30th floor... though for the first 10 or so floors, smiths were pretty much unnecessary and just money sinks, eventually, the gear they could craft would far outpace what Conquerors could get from just going around and defeating elite creatures, and even most bosses. Their value would skyrocket starting with the 15th floor as that’s where a material called ‘Lyrite’ could be found, used to ‘Awaken’ the weapons. Even if smiths weren’t needed to craft something, they were needed to Awaken the piece of gear.

Maybe I can get everyone to participate? That way, his ‘love’ will be spread out--no, he’ll figure out others quickly. However creepy he may be, the dick’s quite a smart one.

He was abruptly pulled out of his thoughts as he realized he came to the end of the long journey, a bright light appearing in front of him, leading into a behemoth-like hall, wide and beyond spacious, yet still feeling too tacky due to the countless statues, tall and short, wide and narrow, made of stone, gold, bronze, all sorts of materials. Ornamental rugs spread out everywhere, beyond beautiful chandeliers hanging from the ceiling,

And there, sitting upon the literal throne made out of gold, with the motif of a lion-like creature, was him -- Taima. If one put every queer stereotype -- good, bad, and lukewarm -- into a pot and stirred them with some chili, it would give birth to Taima-lite. In Cain's twenty-five years, he'd never met anyone quite like the man sitting in front of him, draped in lavish, dragon robes with an oversized, bejeweled crown sitting on top of his head.

His hair spilled out, literally dyed in the colors of the rainbow, half his face painted in powder-white, his cheeks red like blood -- certainly not naturally so. There were at least four golden necklaces hanging around his neck, and innumerable rings and bracelets decorating his fingers and wrists.

He wore drab, pronounced lipstick dyed in effervescent red, and had the habit of puckering his lips constantly. One of his legs was crossed over the other, his arms resting on the ‘throne’ that sat on top of a small elevation, so he could look down on everyone, no doubt.

Cain took a deep breath and went over the gameplan one last time before venturing forth, casually and indifferently, looking around at everything except for him, all on purpose. He purposefully walked painfully slowly, seeming too entranced by everything in the massive hall -- everything except for the centerpiece... one that had turned jittery rather quickly, eyebrows twitching at being ignored.

“Hello,” a melodic and high-pitched voice broke the tepid silence, prompting Cain to glance at the source, the look in his eyes woefully disinterested.

“Hello,” he spoke back. “I’m looking for a Guardian.”

“... then look no more.” Taima spoke with a proud grin. “I am the Guardian, little flower.”

“... really?” Cain asked in the seeming disbelief.

“What? You don’t think I’m a Guardian?” Taima asked through a forced smile.

“Sorry. I was just expecting... something else, I guess.”

“They always do, darling; I ask then -- who are you? And what are you doing in my private chambers?”

“I was told you’d be informed,” Cain said, yawning. “Eh. I kinda wanted to join the army, but I don’t know. I don’t feel like it anymore.”

“You... you don’t feel like it?”

“Yeah,” Cain nodded. “I mean, I was told I’d have to fight the Guardian... but I don’t wanna fight some girl. That’s lame.”

“... I’m a man!!!” Taima seemed to have finally lost it as he shouted in his actual voice -- very low and hoarse -- while veins on his forehead kept popping one after another.

“... oh. Sorry. Didn’t realize.” Cain ‘apologized’ dispiritedly, happy that his plan was working. “Anyway, are you strong?”

“Yeah!! I could bury you if I wanted!”

“... why would you bury me?” Cain quizzed. “Don’t you mean ‘kill’?”

“I could do that too!”

“... eh.”

"What?!! YOU DON'T THINK I COULD?!" by now, Taima was on his feet, but he didn't try and walk. Though he tried to make it seem as though it was below him, Cain quickly realized that it was physically impossible for him to move in those robes. After all, they could wrap good fifty people in a bundle with how long they were.

“Sure, sure, you’re a big-shot Guardian, of course you could...”

“That’s right!”

“... idiot.” Cain ‘mumbled’, though just loud enough for Taima to hear him. The latter’s eyes widened like saucers, and Cain could clearly read the regret over having worn the stupid robes. However, it was likely that he didn’t expect anyone to disrespect him like this.

“What... what did you say?”

“Oh, nothing. Nice hall,” Cain said. “Very... hmm... you. Yeah, you.”

“Oh? You mean grand?”

“No, messy.”

“YOU!!!” by now, Taima was fuming, seemingly ready to let go of his inhibitions and start fighting even if he was certain to lose. He hasn’t been this angry since his Master kicked him out due to jealousy; no, perhaps, he was even angrier right now, as back then, he was a nobody -- now, he was a Guardian of a City. And he was still being treated like some insignificant nobody.

“No, no, I admire that in people,” Cain quickly added. “I mean, to just not care at all about how you look and where you live... that takes some courage. I wish I could be more like that one day.”

“...”

“Ah, right, we’re supposed to be fighting!” Cain exclaimed as though having just remembered it, startling Taima. The former quickly charged some Mana into his fingertips, seemingly preparing to duke it out. “I hope you live up to your title as the Guardian!”

“Wait--wait--no! We can’t fight just yet!!”

“Huh? Why?”

“Uh... my... my hall! Right! We would destroy my hall!”

“Don’t worry about it; I’ll compensate for anything I destroy.”

“You won’t be able to afford it!!” Taima exclaimed angrily; after all, the amount of wealth present here was enough to even make his head spin. Even if he was a Guardian, he didn’t dare mess with literal decades of wealth spent acquiring all this.

“I’m pretty rich, you know?” Cain seemed adamant over fighting right now, pushing on. “But if it means that much to you...”

“IT DOES! It... it really does...”

“Then I’ll just avoid striking anything except for you,” Cain said with confidence. “On the other hand, I take no responsibility if you fuck some shit up. That’s up to you.”

“... y-you! You’re a battle maniac!! We are civilized peoples! Civilized peoples discuss!! You said you wanted to join the army? If you’re here, then that means you want to become a Champion! Fine! I’ll make you a Champion! Happy?”

“Not really,” Cain shrugged. “Feels... unearned.”

“I--It’s earned, okay?! I... I have Heavenly-gifted Eyes and I can see the immense potential in you. I can see you’ll make a Great Champion!”

“... your eyes look... ordinary, though? Hey! I just noticed... they’re literally the only thing in the hall without a color!" that seemed to be the straw that broke the camel's back. Taima... always hated his eyes. Eventually, people learned of this and ripped him off by selling contacts to him. However, those insecurities never truly went away.

“FINE!! YOU WANNA FIGHT?! LET’S FIGHT!!”

“... eh, I don’t feel like it anymore.”

“...” Taima stumbled forward and rolled down the stairs leading up to the platform holding his throne. He was on the verge of tears, his throat feeling stuffed with emotions he couldn’t voice. This was no longer anger. It was... something beyond. Something his tender heart never experienced before. Yet... for all the hate brewing inside his soul... another spark was born alongside it -- interest. Who was this man? Someone so brazen as to appear completely indifferent to the presence of a Guardian? Someone who lived life at his own pace and didn’t care for anything else?

“Hey, you okay? Man, I thought that robe was kinda too big,” Cain said in an emotionless tone. “But the hell are you wearing that for? You’d be much more threatening without it.”

“You... you think so?”

“Eh, maybe. I dunno. It’s difficult to see your actual body beneath all that crap.” Cain leaned gingerly against one of the statues, pretending to clear his ears, while Taima remained lying on the ground -- not because he enjoyed the peculiar sensation, but because he couldn’t get up. Not without looking even stupider than he was at the moment.

"... could... could you help me? If you do, you'll earn yourself the title of a Champion."

“Dunno,” Cain shrugged. “Saving the City’s Guardian has got to be worth more than just some stupid title, right?”

“... s-saving me?”

“Oh, sorry--right. Khm, I meant, uh, assisting you. Yeah.” Cain winked, something that was possible to notice even beneath the mask. By now... Taima had actually begun to cry. It was too much. He felt like a child being messed around by his parent. No, even worse than that -- the man in front of him was a bully! A straight-up bully! But... he didn't say anything too mean, or even do anything bad. Yet... he was a bully! "Are... are you--"

“NO!!” Taima quickly exclaimed, struggling to free his arms so he could wipe his tears away. It’s gonna smear my makeup! “I--sometimes it gets chilly here, okay?”

“Really? ‘cause I’m sweating buckets over here.”

“Then strip!!”

“Eww...”

“THAT’S NOT WHAT I MEANT!!!” beyond the eyes of every soul in the city, their Guardian wept on the floor, his wails filling the hall. It got so bad that Cain even started to feel... guilt. Genuine guilt. Did... did I take it too far? No... I don't think so? Wait--how old is he, anyway? I remember he always looked young...

“Hey... how... how old are you?”

“What-what do you care?!” Taima asked through the tears.

“I dunno. You kinda look old.”

“I’m fourteen!! I’m not old!!”

“...” Cain’s lips parted and his eyes widened. I... I... I’M A FUCKING MONSTER!!! OH MY GOD!!