Chapter 222

The Legend Begins (II)

As the dust and smoke settled, everyone was forced to disperse; leaving behind the ruins of a once-flourishing compound, Emma and others remained alert as they swiftly made their way out of the center of the city, pulling hoods over their faces as to hide their identities, rushing toward the ‘slums’. In the same vein, Cain, Sera, and Yuki had also made their way out, though far more casually so.

Yuki had picked up on a lot of implications from the short conversation Cain had with the Prince--nay, a King now--but he hadn’t asked anything. After all, those implications were too... insane. He did, however, stealthily keep glancing at Cain; the latter was draped in far more mystery than Yuki had initially thought. Not only was he the strongest Conqueror, he also appeared to be the most knowledgeable.

If Cain’s insinuations about the Tower, or at least what Yuki picked up of them, were true, they would spit in the face of all the current working theories in regards to the Towers’ existence. It was striking, invigorating, and terrifying, the implications.

“Though they do say that the curiosity killed the cat,” Cain broke the silence with a faint smile. “I’m fairly certain that curiosity, being an abstract concept that it is, couldn’t have killed the cat. So, you’re free to ask questions.”

“... it is like a game, isn’t it?” Yuki stuttered out.

“Hmm... not quite?” Cain replied, stroking his chin. “If it were, it’d be more like a sandbox experience. But not quite like that, either. There are rails, everywhere, but there are also, like, shortcuts? I’m not quite sure how to explain it.”

“Oh, I can see that...”

“Ha ha,” Cain laughed for a moment as he gathered his thoughts. “Think of it like this: let’s say you have an objective A, and you are given a clear path to that objective. The goal is to get from one side of the field to the other, and the guy who gave you the goal says ‘just walk in a straight line lad’!”

“That’s an awful British accent...”

“Shut it. Anyway, yes, sure, you can walk the straight line, and it’s obviously the most efficient way to get there, but... you can always do a curve or something. There are options. Sometimes, however, you are forcibly shoved into a particular path. Like with this quest,” Cain added. “It’s like the Tower is telling us a story, and we have to meet the certain checkpoints. Now, sure, we have a decent level of autonomy -- freeing Princes and Princesses, investigating, laying low, etc. But, as you saw right now, even though I wanted to fight the Third Prince, as I think he’s likely the end-boss of this nightmare, I figuratively and literally wasn’t allowed to -- as in, if I drew Mana out of me with the intent of attacking the Prince, I’d suddenly find my magic... vanish.”

“...”

“The reason is because that part of the story wasn’t ready yet,” Cain continued. “I don’t quite understand it myself. With a lot of quests we did beforehand, we had complete freedom -- when, how, and why we did them. We could kill or spare anyone and it wouldn’t have mattered. But, then again, there were also quests that were literal on-rails experiences -- from point A to B to C and D, with zero ability to deviate. It’s all confusing mess, if I’m being honest. All we can do is experiment and see.”

“... it isn’t just the strength or the terrible dad jokes, huh?” Yuki chuckled lightly.

“Hm?”

“Before joining you,” Yuki continued. “I only imagined you were someone so strong that others naturally gravitated toward you. However, upon meeting you, and seeing how others ‘disrespected’ you, you... almost seemed lame, to be honest.”

“Ouch.”

“Even now,” the young man said. “I’ve never actually seen you fight--go all out. All I have are the stories, the myths of a man who alight the night into a day. Yet... despite that... I realized that the strength is likely the least of the reason why others follow you so ardently.”

“Oi, stop tossing in those fancy terms,” Cain said. “Are you trying to show off, huh?”

“Rather than getting paralyzed and bogged down in the romantic fantasy of this place,” Yuki ignored him and continued; on the side, Sera listened to their conversation intently, beginning to understand why someone like Senna, and even this man called Yuki--who both appeared beyond strong for the Second Crucible, were following behind Cain instead of carving out their own destinies. “You disrobed it of all that nonsense and looked at it naked. Not only that... but you didn’t give in. The strongest Conqueror, the forerunner, didn’t succumb to the greed. You could have used your strength and essentially made the entirety of America your own, personal Empire. I can all but guarantee that majority of others, myself included, would have ripped her a new one immediately.”

“... oh? So, you’re all psychopaths and I’m a saint? Aii, what a fine twist of fate that would be.” Cain chuckled mockingly.

“I get it,” Yuki added. “Following you... doesn’t even feel as though I’m following someone. I’m standing side by side with a man who just made fun of a fucking King, and did so with a wide grin on his face. You not only allow us to feel the excitement of the Tower, but also let us experiment safely within its confines.”

“That’s highly debatable.”

“I picked up on a few stories,” he said. “And it’s not debatable. Look at us now, Cain. We are at the cusps of clearing the Second Floor while the rest of the world is still fiddling around like children. While I was in Japan, it wasn’t just me, but everyone felt... so lost. We tried--by god, we tried. But we kept stumbling, not knowing where to go. I don’t know how you do it, and I don’t care to learn. I just wish... I just wish there was someone like you in all of the Towers, a person to ground and guide others. So, so, so many pointless deaths could have been avoided.”

“... I just got lucky, is all.”

The conversation between the two died out as they continued making their way out, with Sera having finally healed enough to walk on her own. They didn’t draw any attention as most people have hidden themselves in the basements after having heard the the massive explosion coming from the center.

By the time they’d returned, everyone else was already waiting--Emma, Kramer, Jamal, Sigmund, and Elypso were sitting and wolfing down food, while Senna had reclaimed her indifferent, devil-may-care expression, glancing at Cain coldly for a moment before huffing and turning aside.

“Master, welcome back!” Taima chirped in merrily. “Would you like a massage?”

“Yes, I would,” Cain said. “Not from a young boy, though. Anyway, it’s good that we all managed to come back wound-free. Eh, Sera? The heck are you doing outside? I understand this humble place is nothing for a major Princess like you--”

“Oh, shut it, old man,” Sera exclaimed as she made her way in, immediately locking gaze with Anna and Izirdul who were sitting around a small table.

“... you still thought we were messin’ with you, eh?” Cain saw through it immediately, causing Sera to blush.

“Can you blame me?! A really strange father-daughter pair suddenly shows up claiming they were sent by my sister who, by the way, is supposed to be dead, and that I should follow them back to a super shady side of town? You’re lucky I didn’t run away screaming halfway here!”

“Fair point,” Cain assented. “Anyway, why don’t you reacquaint yourself with the two while I get stupidly drunk.”

“So, how did the prodding and probing go?” Emma asked as Cain joined the five, popping open a can of beer.

“Well, I did manage to piss off the Prince--nay, the King--royally. So, there’s that.”

“You’ll never pass up a lame pun, will you?” Jamal said.

“Nope.”

“What’s that mean for us, though?” Kramer asked.

“Nothing,” Cain shrugged. “He’s likely my fight. You lot will be responsible for cleaning up the rest of the Palace, I’m guessing.”

“... can you even fight solo anymore?” Emma asked, frowning. “I mean, your new class is great and all, but you’re still probably weaker than you used to be.”

“Na, I’ve long since went past that,” Cain shrugged it off. “While true that solo-fighting is a bit more difficult, eh, I’ll figure it out.” what he held back from saying is that he’d actually be going back to roots--rather than reactive fighting, the ilk he employed ever since returning, he was far more versed in planned one, where he accounted for every nuance of the fight and had an answer for it. His current class, similarly, much preferred that style, even if he was able to fight like he had been up until now.

That didn’t mean, however, that he was extremely--or even at all--confident in his ability to fight Eldur. The change of his title from ‘Prince’ to ‘King’ wasn’t just nominal and wasn’t just Kingdom politics--it also denoted an increase in his status, which denoted an increase in his strength proportionate to the Conquerors’. If fighting a ‘Prince’ was like fighting against the gym-going, occasionally-trained boxer, then fighting a ‘King’ was like fighting someone who’d been training boxing professionally for years on end. Though it worried him, there was no way out; the story was already written--all he had to do now is live it out.