Chapter 166: Fuckin’ Doug (Patreon)

***Llortan***

Llortan’s job as a scrubber was simple, check a planet for signs of Ravager activity, then move on. He could check dozens of systems a decade and come up with nothing, but now…

“That’s the second one in as many days,” The Llortan said, tossing aside the body of the young human as he studied the glowing orb in his hands. “They shouldn’t even be on this planet, let alone in the same city. This reeks of treachery.”

Only an Administrator or a Harbinger could reassign souls, and an Administrator had no reason to do so. It was far more likely a Harbinger with an old grudge had arranged for the Ravagers to congregate on a single planet.

“System Query: Who orchestrated the appearance of Ravagers on Marconen within the last twenty years?”

The arrogant human princeling tried his best to conceal his discomfort at the apparent murder, which was somewhat charming. The identity of the soul was that of another one of Grethna’s lackeys. A low level foot soldier, but still a Ravager by definition. The connection to the exiled traitor was impossible to ignore.

Response: The Ravagers on Marconen were the result of a ritual performed by Elaine Entremond 17 years, four months and three days ago, local time.

“What ritual?” Llortan asked, frowning. He

System Subroutine – Hero Summoning Alpha 0.0.4, Designed by Administrator Doug Henderson. The subroutine determined the quickest and most effective way to solve Elaine’s request for assistance would be to summon the nearest Ravager soul and put it in a System-designed ‘Hero’ body. Then the subroutine’s ‘Hero Party’ protocol engaged, drawing no less than two hundred and thirty-seven souls with similar potency and distributing them around the world where they might come into contact with the ‘Hero’ and join his or her ‘party’.

“Fucking Doug.” Llortan muttered, a tingle of ice going down his spine. Things were worse than he’d thought. Ravagers rarely had any oversight because they were, by design, always just a bit beyond the edge of Harbinger territory. It was looking like this job was going to be more difficult than he’d originally thought.

“Connect me to him.”

“Apologies, Doug Henderson has already chosen the retirement and reincarnation package for Administrators. Would you like me to connect you to his new body?”

LLortan narrowed his eyes.

“When did Doug choose his retirement package?” Llortan asked. If it was seventeen years, four months and three days ago, he had a sure bet the human was directly involved.

Thirteen years and eight months ago. Too close to be coincidence. Four years was a blip in time to a Harbinger. Maybe Doug thought he’d thrown off suspicion by waiting four years, but the man must have been an idiot.

“What was his retirement package?”

A charmed life, adventure, reunion with old friends, and the target of yandere affections.

“Where did he reincarnate?”

Maronen.

“Yeah, go ahead and connect me to him anyway.”

***Goob***

A booming voice woke Goob out of his peaceful sleep, reverberating painfully through his skull.

“Doug, you stupid piece of shit! Your unfinished, half-assed System subroutine is responsible for a serious danger to all civilization, and when I find you, I’m going to tear out your soul and shove it into a body that spends all day every day getting things shoved in holes that weren’t meant to accommodate them! Do you understand me!? And if I find you had any part in concealing this, you’re going to spend the rest of time suspended in that delicious moment of absolute terror before death! – End of Message.”

Goob gasped desperately as his ears rang, staring at the ceiling of his tent.

“By all the gods, what on Marconen was that?” he said quietly. It couldn’t have been a hallucination. It was too specific, to concise…but maybe…it could have been. Goob remembered one of the lessons about mental disorders, where young men heard people shouting at them.

Am I going crazy? Goob thought, heart beating madly in his chest.

A drop of hot cheese fell on his face.

Kim Curdashian loomed over him a lusty smile.

O gods, no! Goob thought, his body paralyzed from sleep. The tyrade echoing in his mind until then was immediately forgotten in the face of looming death.

Yandere Magnet has reached level 5! 25% Correction.

+1 Stability

Please choose an Ability.

Goob opened his mouth to scream, but Kim smothered his mouth with warm cheese, shushing him softly.

“Shhh,” She said, her smile twitching spasmodically. “We don’t want that stupid soup-man or anyone else to ruin this for us.”

Banish Yandere: 1 Bent, Intuition resisted by Stability – A famously low attribute for Yandere – User modifies the Yandere’s perception of them subtly, making them no longer attracted to the User. Lasts up to level cubed minutes. This Ability only applies to a Yandere fixated on the user.

Wife Her: User is (correction %) more capable of de-escalating and treating a yandere's mental issues, focusing their fixation on the user toward healthier and safer activities. This Ability only applies to a Yandere fixated on the user.

Oblivious Boyfriend: Correction is applied as a penalty to User’s ability to discern a Yandere’s deviant behavior. Correction is also applied to User’s ability to avoid negative repercussions of Yandere’s affections. This Ability only applies to a Yandere fixated on the user.

Yandere Stalker: Yanderes fixated on the user are (correction) more stealthy and prone to assassination of perceived competitors. Fixated yanderes receive a (correction) boost to the acquisition and leveling of Stealth and Assassination related Skills.

She’s Just a Friend: User receives a (correction) bonus to recognizing, creating or removing a yandere’s perceived competitor.

“Now, where were we?” Kim said, leaning forward, pushing her generous cleavage under Goob’s nose. “Just relax and let me take care of you, you lovely

I can’t breathe! What do I do!

Goob ignored the death-boobies and focused on the Abilities. They weren’t out in the wilderness anymore, instead staying in some kind of wooden hotel held off the ground by giant poles. Earth Shaping wasn’t going to help much this time. At least not without having to go through the floor first.

No, he needed to use the abilities.

The first one looked very promising, but Goob’s adrenaline-laced brain smelled a trap. Banish Yandere wouldn’t work forever, and there was nothing in there saying that she wouldn’t remember him using it on her. Sooner or later, Kim Curdashian would figure out what he was doing and that wouldn’t end well.

No, he needed something with longer term benefits. After quickly comparing the last four, Goob made his decision in a split second as stars began to shoot across his vision, his body running out of air.

***Calvin***

“Goob, are you gonna be joining us today?” Calvin asked, knocking on Goob’s door.

No answer. Huh, maybe he’s already elsewhere. Calvin ducked his head out and scanned the troop of Palanquins being slowly loaded by crotchety old men.

No Goob.

“Huh.” Calvin went back inside and slid the door open, “Goob, you need to – “

Calvin stopped when he spotted Goob. His apprentice was staring back at him with bloodshot eyes, with Kim Curdashian draped over his body, sleeping peacefully on his arm, the rest of her cheesy body tucked under the young man’s covers.

“Help. Me.” Goob gave a harsh whisper.

“We’re leaving in ten minutes,” Calvin said. “Sort your shit out before then.”

Calvin shut the door, and went back, shaking his head. He’d really thought Goob would have killed his abominations by now, not sleep with them.

To each their own, Calvin supposed. But it better not impact his ability to take notes and fetch things.

If he’s not up in ten minutes, I’ll light the place on fire, Calvin thought as he headed for the palanquin.

Kurawe was already schmoozing the Juntai diplomats. The giant could speak fluent Ilethan, as was expected of a high ranking member of the elite, and he was picking up Juntai at a visible rate, although it was only basic stuff, like ‘Where’s the shitter?’ and ‘profit margin’

If chained spirits ate, they shat, which led Elliot to ask if they could heal. He supposed that if they could eat, shit, and heal, There was a possibility that they could become real if they were in existence long enough.

According to Elliot every miniscule part of a person’s body is refreshed over the course of seven years, and he hypothesized that by that point your body might be entirely remade by real matter. This would all be well and good, except a bit of quick math was enough to show he’d have to be level one hundred and fifty-four before a Chained Spirit would last seven years.

Although if there were an ability for a permanent summon, that might be a different story.

Calvin filed that information away to test later as he went about his business loading the palanquins under the watchful gazes of the men’s guards. They were definitely Veterans, No mistake, with Bodies to match. Nothing else could explain how easily two men carried the weight of four or more people.

Calvin caught himself staring at their copper bracers, wondering about the Skill behind it. It might be some a Body-based skill, perhaps Kinethetics or Endurance if it was in use by every strongman the juntai had available.

Short while later, Goob ran out of the room, his hair mussed up with grease, clothes stained and reeking of cheese.

“You see Kala over there?” Calvin asked, pointing out the princess.

“Yeah?”

“She’s got soap. Go get some. You’ve got five minutes to get clean.”

Goob broke into a run, tearing across the yard toward Kala while Calvin loaded the last remaining bags.

Goob got back to the palanquin moments before they headed off for the second stage of the journey, his whole body damp, but significantly less greasy.

The remainder of the journey took most of the day, arriving in Allast in early evening, as the sun began to set on the horizon.

The city was spread out in a way that Mujenan couldn’t hope to compare to. The Juntai had nothing but land, and no building taller than two stories, so their capital was a sprawling mess, seemingly interspersed with jungle at random.

The sun was setting directly beyond the largest building, that the entire city seemed to orbit around.

It was an enormous looking…cylinder, thing… Calvin tilted his head, but couldn’t make heads or tails of what exactly it was. The building itself seemed to be tilted just over fifteen degrees, the majority of it was buried deep in the ground, but over six stories of grey steel rose above the rest of the city. At the ‘top’ of the leaning building was a glass dome seemingly fused onto the top of the tilted cylinder.

Inside the dome was another flywheel, although this hulking mass of steel not only dwarfed every single building in the rest of the city, It also seemed to be floating in midair.

What am I looking at, exactly? Calvin wondered to himself.

It’s a highly modified engine for an ark-class supercarrier. She big.

What’s it do?

It makes juice.

Calvin glared at no one in particular.

Electricity. Lightning. Power. Also referred to as juice in certain circles. I’m guessing we’re looking at the literal seat of power for the entire city and therefor the country as a whole….

You wanna blow it up?

Yes, but let’s try to avoid acting on my first instinct. That’s gotten me into too much trouble over the last year. Calvin resisted the impulse to destroy what was no doubt a place of deep cultural significance, and instead focused on studying the people they were passing.

He paid special attention to their clothes and bearing. What did Juntai in the heart of their most urban city wear? How did they act? Who was invisible?

The muggy heat still precluded the widespread use of clothes, and while the Juntai city-slickers wore a bit more than the savages hundreds of miles hence, it wasn’t a lot more.

At least there’s one thing to like about this place, Calvin thought, taking in the sights until Kala pinched his shoulder.

“What? You’ve got a window,” Calvin said, pointing. “There’s a hot guy right there wearing little more than a thong.”

“Am I going to have to dress like them to hold your attention?” Kala asked with a raised brow.

“Ummm…” Calvin was unsure how to answer that question. “I feel any answer to that question would entrap me.”

Kala pinched him again.

“Let’s be honest,” Calvin said, chuckling as he pried her fingers away from his arm. “In my opinion, you could always stand to be wearing less clothes.”

“How about you, then?” Ella asked from across the palanquin, a smile blooming on her face. “In light of the circumstances, It seems rude to deny us the pleasure of seeing you in traditional Juntai garb.”

“That’s true, you would look good, in a nice, tight loincloth.” Kala said with a mischievous grin.

Calvin froze.

“Hold him down!”

“Shit!” Calvin’s mind went into overdrive as he began a life-and death struggle against two pairs of overly friendly hands, using every tool at his disposal to stay fully clothed. Deflecting their hands with Bent and his forearms, all while keeping one hand on his belt, determined to keep his pants up.

The onlooking Juntai diplomat simply stared at them with wide eyes, a piece of dried fruit hovering near his lips.

“What in Tyran’s name is wrong with these foreigners?” he muttered, shaking his head.