- Chapter 12 -

Twelve Minutes To Midnight

Parallel Me was trying to teach me as much as possible, making use of all our spare time as we travelled. It was torture. You’d think such cool topics would never get old but his talks were all theory. We no longer have a dungeon and thus have no privileged access to The System. That was how the vicious attacks became welcome brakes. The Minotaur’s, in particular, were the most persistent. Though I suspected it was more accurate to say, ‘that minotaur was persistent’. But we weren’t under attack at the moment, so Parallel Me was talking. “…and this tab-”

“Why?” I interrupted. “Why did The System go through all the effort of making you? Why didn’t it just put all of this information in me?”

“I’m here because you activated the tutorial. But if you want to get philosophical; Why doesn’t The System just copy and paste a personality for each Dungeon? Hell, why not do it for all living things? Then again, why not just take all that messy chaos out of it; plug people into perpetual euphoria machines?” He looked at me. “If you go to the effort of making,” he gestured around him, “THIS, I suppose you’re not going to half ass it. You’d want it to be as ‘real’ as possible- free will.”

“Is that our latest theory?”

“Good a theory as any other.”

Parallel Me cleared his non-existent throat. “As I was saying, this tab is important.” He started listing out things that I should go through and do in it. It couldn’t have sounded more mundane and boring. Not to mention pointless. But I nodded anyway, thinking, I know that I have an infinite potential life span… but I’m never touching that bloody tab.

***

[The Demonic Lands]

Digero caressed his purchase once more, blissful. He almost couldn’t believe he had finally gotten his hands on one. With it, I finally have everything I need. His eyes flickered over to what it cost him, resting amongst his other tools. A parchment. It didn’t look like much but to almost every Core on this continent it was a death sentence disguised as an opportunity. Orders from the Demon King. Orders to invade. Although, if Digero was being honest, this year, with what the Demon King was offering to those that volunteered… he was already tempted. Recent circumstances must have put some pressure on him. Digero chuckled at his subconscious assumption of mystery. I suppose he didn’t find that ‘Original Chimeras Heart’ after all. Consoling himself, Digero set back to work moving the saw back and forth, back and forth.

Snap. Reaching down he picked up the severed wing and threw it into his Core. It’ll make a decent souvenir I suppose. The movement awoke a figure bound to an adjacent table. It struggled against its restraints, letting out muffled calls. “Please, don’t hurt yourself, you weren’t cheap either.” Done with the saw Digero set it back down on the tool bench, next to the parchment. The parchment seemed to consume his vision and his fists tightened. I don’t have much time. This MUST work. It will work. All the failures have been leading up to this moment! He picked up a tool. As he walked back over to the table the bound figure struggled more. If he had purchased it with DP it wouldn’t do that. It wouldn’t struggle. But where’s the fun it that? Lifting up his skinning knife, Digero cooed, “Don’t worry… I’ll make you beautiful.”

***

[The Old Dungeon Ruins]

In the cavern a shroud of silence had enveloped the surroundings after its most recent owners abandoned it, a pack of minotaur’s in hot pursuit. Signs of battle added to old ones, mana permeated the surroundings and nothing moved, save the motes of dust in the air. They swirled this way and that… all, except one as mana leached over from the aether into this plane what it encountered caused currents, fluctuations, twists… and knots. A speck of a cold and dark crystal drifting over an archaic monument, a step pyramid, in the right place, at the right time…