Chapter 41
Written by Bayzo Albion
The ceiling split, and something green and writhing dropped down—a cannon, grown from wood and moss, pulsing with unnatural life.
"You're kidding..." I breathed.
The plant-cannon wheezed a damp *pffft*, launching a pale, globular projectile that splattered against the wall, shattering frost in a sticky burst. The second whizzed past, engulfing my double in a gooey cloud.
"Aaaah! It's sticky!" he yelped, flailing wildly. "This is... this is... sour cream?!"
"Doubt it," I dodged the third, which hit the floor with a hiss, acrid smoke rising from the impact. "Smells like acid. White acid."
The abomination alternated between adhesive globs and corrosive spits, the chamber filling with the sizzle of dissolving ice and the pungent reek of chemicals. I ducked under a barrage, closed the distance, and hacked the "barrel" clean off. It wheezed, wilted, and collapsed in a puff of pale spores that tickled my nose like pollen from hell.
**System:** You have slain the Cannon Flora (Level 5). Experience: +300
"Thanks for the assist!" the Queen's cheerful voice rang out. "Knew you had it in you!"
We barely had time to curse before the ceiling groaned again. Down came a colossal slug with six bulging eyes, peppering us with razor-sharp quills. No sooner had we dispatched it than a carriage-sized spider followed, its legs skittering like needles on glass.
Then a three-headed wolf. A flying serpent that warbled eerie tunes mid-strike.
Each arrival was heralded by her gleeful commentary:
"Sorry, lads—my pantry's overflowing with 'extras'!"
"Oops, that was an accident!"
"At least you're not bored!"
By evening's end, we waded knee-deep in viscera, hides, and debris, exhausted as galley slaves after a storm. My double slumped onto a bone heap, meeting my gaze with hollow eyes.
"I think... I'm starting to miss the quiet broom work."
From above: "Perfect! I've got a few spares up here!"
I facepalmed, the gesture heavy with defeat.
"We're in hell," I muttered. "Just with paradise wallpaper."
– – –
Three days blurred by in a haze of toil.
The Forest Queen materialized without warning, as she always did—silent footsteps on the frost, arms folded across her chest like a judge surveying her court.
"Boys, aren't you worn out?" She arched a brow, her gaze appraising our disheveled forms. "Three days straight, no breaks, no shut-eye... What's the rush? This 'treasure' isn't going anywhere."
My double, perched atop a bone mountain, swung his leg lazily and flashed a cheeky grin. "We're game for rest... but only if it involves cuddling up with you." His eyes sparkled with bold mischief.
"How childish," she snorted, though her tone lacked any real bite—more amused indulgence than rebuke.
"We're dead serious," I chimed in, brushing grime from my hands, the ache in my muscles a dull roar.
"Ha-ha-ha!" He burst into laughter, nearly toppling his perch. "Remember when you'd pull all-nighters? You'd turn into a whole different beast."
I sighed, fatigue crashing over me like a tidal wave, weighing down my eyelids. "Yeah... yeah." The words slurred slightly. "So, you in?"
She eyed me, then him, and shrugged with surprising nonchalance. "Sleep it is, then."
My double dissolved into me, merging like shadow into light. In that instant, one thought consumed me: What does the Forest Queen smell like?
Mirrored portals dotted the space—perfect circles of glassy ice, suspended mid-air, refracting light in winking distortions. They were ingeniously placed: no endless hallways or locked doors—just step through, and arrive precisely where intended.
A few effortless strides, and we emerged in her bedroom.
It was a sanctum of refined power, not gaudy excess. The bed dominated: vast, canopied in living vines threaded with silver filaments that rustled softly, as if breathing. Walls bore intricate carvings of ancient woodland spirits, their forms seeming to shift in the play of light—deep greens melting into warm golds and cool silvers. The air hummed with subtle magic, a symphony of tranquility.
And her scent... She drew me close, her embrace gentle, almost maternal, fingers weaving through my hair. No perfumes, no blooms, no arcane spice—just home. Comfort. The kind that wrapped around your soul like a well-worn blanket.
*Such scents exist here? Warmth... serenity...* I marveled inwardly.
In my old life, I'd chased this haven—a refuge from the clamor of crowds, the deceit of tongues, the endless chase for hollow prizes. And here it was: in her arms, her laughter, her steady breath. Her essence.
I shut my eyes.
Pulling her nearer, I surrendered to the moment. My heart beat steady, assured for the first time in ages that all was right. I'd found that elusive inner peace—the kind that didn't beckon death but eased toward it, a quiet voice murmuring: *Stay... and wander no more.* Perhaps this paradise was designed for just that: to let one slip away serenely, without fear or regret, unaware of the final breath.
And if I'd known then that my days were numbered... I'd have held her tighter.
– – –
I stirred slowly, eyelids fluttering open to a world that felt sharper, more insistent than before.
"How long was I out...?"
> **System:** [Adjusting difficulty level → Maximum]
> [Shifting genre → Hardcore Mode]
> [Minimal relationship correction → Approved]
The system's voice crackled through my mind, metallic and distorted, laced with static hisses that echoed like distant thunder in a storm-ravaged sky. I pushed myself upright, the air around me thickening, colors intensifying as if the haze of slumber had lifted, revealing a reality that stared back with unblinking eyes—raw, unforgiving.
"Once upon a time, I dreamed of becoming president," I murmured, staring at my palms, the lines etched there like forgotten maps of ambition. "To wield power, reshape the world... But I ended up living a gray, forgettable existence, fading into the background."
> **System:** [World successfully altered]
> [Changes do not impact your event timeline]
> [Extra Skill Acquired: "Fortune"]
A wry smile tugged at my lips. A cool spark ignited deep in my consciousness, the new skill humming with promise, a subtle current that whispered of tipping scales and serendipitous turns.
"Fortune, huh? Could use a bit of that right about now," my clone grumbled, stretching languidly, his form mirroring mine yet infused with that irreverent spark.
"The great only seem great because we're on our knees," I intoned, the words gaining weight in the silence, drawing from depths I hadn't tapped before. My fists clenched, a surge of unfamiliar power coursing beneath my skin like liquid fire—raw potential begging to be unleashed. "But I'll show what true greatness looks like. Not bestowed, but seized."
"Ooh," my clone arched a brow, his interest piqued beneath the mocking veneer. "Planning to erect communism in this slice of paradise? Red banners, equality for all, 'from each according to ability'? You're nuts! Building communism in heaven itself? That's like drowning a fish—pointless overkill. Folks here already vibe in perfect harmony with everything. What, you gonna add extra harmony to the mix? Like pouring rain into an overflowing lake!"
"No," I countered, my voice slicing through the air like a blade, turning sharply as if addressing not emptiness, but a vast assembly—history itself holding its breath. "I'll forge an Empire. One that endures eternally. It'll devour lands, peoples, eras, and reshape them into something flawless. Timeless."
"And what's the name of this ego-fueled masterpiece, oh mighty conqueror?" he drawled, his tone sleepy but his eyes alight with genuine curiosity.
"Mirai," I declared, the word hanging in the void, imbued with sacred gravity. "It means 'future.' Not the one that follows the present, but the only one that matters. The destiny everything bends toward."
"Sounds... grandiose, but catchy," he conceded, scratching his chin thoughtfully. "But maybe start small? Like a village. Call it 'Mir-Rai'—symbolic, and it rhymes."
Laughter bubbled up from my chest—not derisive, but fueled by an unshakeable certainty, the Fortune skill weaving threads of possibility into my veins.
"We're not ready for a village yet."
"True," he snorted, surveying the endless forest expanse. "We're basically cavemen right now. No fire, no metal... just dreams and a stick to poke things with."
> **System:** [New Objective Added → "Found the Empire of Mirai"]
> [Current Progress: 0.001%]
The notification flared before my eyes, and a colossal weight settled on my shoulders—not crushing, but invigorating, channeling immense energy into my limbs. The tiniest step forward, yet the horizon stretched infinite. Ahead lay everything.
In that moment, an inexplicable urgency gnawed at me, as if a hidden clock ticked down in the shadows of my mind, marking an unseen deadline. While it ran, I had my shot—to transform that minuscule fraction into eternity.