《Retribution Engine [DEPRECATED - SEE SYNOPSIS]》121 - A Day Off
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The chef’s entire workstation was laid out bare for the customers to observe, and he clearly took great pride in making a show of his work, flicking pieces of meat high into the air with a cleaver only for them to land on an upward-facing skewer. Despite his piercing gaze and ice-cool attitude, Zelsys felt no apprehension as far as approaching him, offhandedly asking, “What’s the daily special?”
His brow furrowed, he gave her a stern look, then with an equally powerful and friendly voice spoke, “Beast-slayer special. Marinated bear meat and spiced bell pepper and sweet potato skewers, boss.”
The skewers were each separate - one skewer had neat cubes of bear meat, whilst the other bore a cornucopia of colorful vegetables. Between the food and the rather decent ale offered by the establishment, it was a very pleasant meal, priced at a surprisingly cheap one gelt per skewer, for a total of four gelt plus two gelt for their drinks.
It was also, all in all, forgettable beyond the impression left by the chef. Sure, it was good food in a nice place, but the vast, vast majority of both Zel’s and Zef’s attention remained directed towards one another. Soon enough, they had left the establishment and spent the next couple minutes idly walking the promenade, content to wile away the nice weather in eachother’s presence.
Candy for the eyes and for the soul was complimented by candy for the mouth when they discovered a young Ikesian peddling candied fruits from the windowsil of his own home - a single gelt for a wax-paper bag of the stuff. So it was that the two women spent their afternoon, and despite that afternoon’s utterly uneventful nature, they were glad to have spent it as they did.
Upon returning to Riverside Remedies, Zelsys was immediately beset by Makhus’s sleep-deprived visage in the hallway just outside her and Zef’s bedroom. His eyes were bloodshot and his face was somehow ghastly-pale to the point it was noticeable through his already incredibly pale complexion. “You’re finally back,” he said. “Good. Zel, mind giving me the Necrobeast’s Azoth and some of your blood? I’ve an idea. Nothing to do with tattoos, promise.”
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“...Sure?” Zel agreed hesitantly, retrieving the stone from Fog Storage. She had no personal attachment to it, seeing as she didn’t have a way to derive any use from it. “Why more of my blood, though? I already gave you a sample.”
“Oh, just… The reason is a little farfetched, to be honest,” the alchemist admitted. “I think I could use your blood specifically to isolate a single aspect of an Azoth stone to entirely sidestep the negative aspects of traditional absorption methods at the cost of no secondary benefits.”
“So uh… What did you learn from the tests you wanted to run, in the first place? Clearly you learned something, if you believe my blood to be somehow different from a normal person’s.”
“Oh, you uh… You’ve got teeny-tiny Azoth stones in your bloodstream,” he plainly stated. Makhus was so sleep-deprived his usual barriers had broken down as his mind made efforts to keep running despite only being sustained by Liquid Vigor. “I’m not sure why, but I have a theory. A theory I won’t share until I’m sure of it, ‘cause frankly, it’d be a lil’ much to say it without certainty.”
His bloodshot eyes wandered about for some time whilst he recollected his thoughts, thin wisps of green Fog rising from his mouth despite the fact he wasn’t holding a seal-bottle. He must’ve had consumed so much of the substance that some of its active ingredient managed to evaporate before his body could process it. It would explain his somewhat inebriated state, considering the not insignificant alcohol content of Liquid Vigor - only well and truly copious amounts of it would render its invigorating effect lesser than the intoxication that came from its alcohol content.
Zelsys sighed. He clearly wasn’t in any state to have a serious discussion with, and so she just asked, “How much blood?”
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“Uh…” he narrowed his eyes, staring off into the middle distance as he slowly raised his hands as if to count on his fingers. “‘Bout half a syringe to do what I wanna do, goin’ by the Azoth Particle density of the first sample. Made that term up, think it’s got a nice ring to it.”
“Alright, look,” Zel put her hand on his shoulder, having made the decision to play the voice of reason for once. “Get some sleep first, talk to me about this tomorrow morning. Then I’ll give you the rock and the extra sample, deal?”
A slight smile, and a slow nod. “Deal,” he agreed, slowly turning on his bootheel and walking towards his and Sigmund’s room as he continued talking to himself. “How long’ve I been awake for anyway? Twenny hours? Thirty? Forty maybe?”
Into his room he went, as did Zelsys into hers, immediately met by Zef lounging on the bed with a bemused look on her face.
“Let me guess, he’s been awake since yesterday,” she guessed, clearly familiar with this situation. “Acts like a mad scientist when he does that, tried to give my eye a third pupil last time it happened.”
“This is a normal occurrence for him?” Zel chuckled whilst she shed her boots, sitting down on the bed beside Zef. The response she received was a simple, “Pretty much every time he finds a new obsession.”
It would still be a little while before the sun set, and so, Zelsys decided she would do well to learn more about her own abilities. She had an instinctive understanding of Fog-breathing and the Fog in general, that much was true, but that very instinct also told her there was much trial and error she could entirely avoid by just asking questions or reading books. After all, even if the knowledge of others wasn’t one hundred percent useful to her, that didn’t mean it was useless.
“What’d you know about Fog-breathing, by the way?” she asked Zef after a few minutes of silent deliberation. “Between what you learned yourself and what they taught you in training?”
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- End1023 Chapters
Godfather Of Champions
This is a story about the pursuit of victory.— «I subscribe only to the theory of victory. I only pursue victory. As long as I am able to obtain victory, I don’t care if it’s total football or counterattack. What is the ultimate goal of professional soccer? In my opinion, it is victory, and the pinnacle of victory is to become the champions. I am a manager. If I don’t wish to lose my job or be forgotten by the people, there’s only one path for me to take, and that is to lead the team in obtaining victories, in obtaining championship titles!»The main character was not well-liked by people.— «⋯We conducted a survey which had been deemed by Manager Tony Twain as extremely meaningless. In a random street survey conducted, ninety-three percent of those surveyed chose the option ‘I hate Tony Twain’, while only seven percent chose the option ‘This person is rather decent, I like him’. It is worth noting that nobody chose the option ‘Who is Tony Twain? I don’t know him’. Mark, do you know why Manager Twain felt that our survey was very meaningless?» Parker, a reporter from laughed loudly and said when he was being interviewed by BBC.But there were also people who were madly in love with him.— When Tony Twain was forced to talk about the survey conducted by during an interview, his reply was : «I am happy, because Nottingham Forest’s fans make up seven percent of England’s population.»And he did not seem to care about how the others saw him.— «What are you all trying to make me say? Admit that I am not popular, and everywhere I go will be filled with jeers and middle fingers. You all think I will be afraid? Wrong! Because I am able to bring victory to my team and its supporters. I don’t care how many people hate me and can’t wait to kill me, and I also won’t change myself to accommodate the mood of these losers. You want to improve your mood? Very simple, come and defeat me.»His love story had garnered widespread attention.— «Our reporters took these pictures at Manager Tony Twain’s doorsteps. It clearly shows that Shania entered his house at 8.34pm and she did not leave the house throughout the night at all. But Manager Tony Twain firmly denies, and insists that that was merely the newest-model inflatable doll which he had ordered.He was the number one star of the team.— «⋯ Became the spokesperson of world-wide famous clothing brands, shot advertisements, frequented the fashion industry’s award ceremonies, endorsed electronic games, has a supermodel girlfriend. His earnings from advertisements exceed his club salary by seventeen times, owns a special column in various print medias, publishing his autobiography (in progress), and is even said that he is planning to shoot an inspirational film based off his own person experiences! Who can tell me which part of his life experiences is worthy of being called ‘inspirational’? Hold on⋯. Are you all thinking that I’m referring to David Beckham? You’re sorely mistaken! I’m talking about Manager Tony Twain⋯.»He was very knowledgeable about Chinese soccer.— «⋯ I’ve heard about it, that Bora gifted four books to his manager Mr. Zhu before your country’s national team’s warm up match. After which, the team lost 1:3 to a nameless American team from Major League Soccer. The new excuse that Mr. Zhu gave for losing the match, was that Bora gifted «books» (‘books’ and ‘lose’ are homophones in the Chinese language). Here, I recommend that you guys find out what that one specific book is. Which book? Of course the one that caused you all to score a goal. After that, tell me the title of the book. Before every match, I will gift ten copies of that same book to you. In that case, won’t you all be able to get a triumphant 10:0 win over your opponents every time?» An excerpt taken from Tony Twain’s special column in a certain famous Chinese sports newspaper.He was loved and hated by the press.— «He has a special column in at least four renowned print media, and he is able to get a considerable amount of remuneration just by scolding people or writing a few hundred words of nonsense weekly. While we have to contemplate hard about our drafts for three days before our boss is pleased with it. In an article inside his special column, he scolded and called all of the media ‘son of a bitch’, announcing that he hated the media the most. But every time he publishes an article, we flock towards him like flies which had spotted butter. Why? Because the readers like to read his news and see him scold people. 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Even the football hooligans are like meek lambs in front of him!» (After saying this, he began to laugh out loudly)The reply from George Wood, the team captain of Nottingham Forest, was the most straightforward. «We follow him because he can bring us victory.»The legendary experience of Tony Twain, the richest, most successful, most controversial manager with the most unique personality!Debuting this summer.Thank you for reading.
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