Tutorial Rewrite 51 (Patreon)

Alright. That makes sense, I think. I’m not sure what these executives are supposed to have done, but it’s not like I can tell them not to or anything.

Hm. Executives…

…Hang on. “When you say, uh, executives, does that happen to include me?...”

“You are an executive, aren’t you?”

“Well, heh, yeah, technically, but, I mean, it’s not like I’ve actually done anything as an executive, I just held the title, and that’s about it, you know?” A pause. “I mean, sure, if I could have done something with my title, I totally would’ve, but I kinda couldn’t, so this is all pretty much just, like, empty accusations and stuff. You know?”

He makes another one of those dreadful difficult faces. “...It’s not up to me to decide.”

“H-, hey, wait just a second, I’m not—”

But before I can say anything else, our party or rebels have burst out of the castle and into the light of the outside field, weapons held high and ready, and I have no other choice than to watch as all hell breaks loose.

The girl who captured me first fires off an arrow towards a man standing on a platform in front of the large crowd, and he gets hit in the shoulder, crying out in pain as he stumbles and falls over. With this starting shot, the crowd explodes into turmoil, some of the members raising their own weapons while others look around in a panic and yet more attempt to quell the chaos. And, in the meantime, I’m just sort of watching.

“Pick up your weapons, rebels!” the girl who caught me shouts. “And let us finally tear down this cruel rule!”

Her rallying cry echoes across the crowd to thunderous cheering. On top of the stage, alongside the man who got shot, stand three other administrative-looking people, alongside a number of others. Oh, and those three I saw down in the dungeon. Looks like they aren’t dead quite yet, huh. At the sudden attack, the executives try to grab their weapons, but a number of them suddenly freeze in place. I glance at Moleman. Yup, he’s pointing alright. Those who didn’t go stiff at the magic or were able to avoid it try to make their defence, but the tide has already turned. It almost makes me want to cheer for these rebel guys, but since I have no idea why this is happening to begin with, I’m just sort of watching on.

I can’t even try to escape in the chaos since Moleman’s still dutifully holding my rope. Blast it.

The whole revolution takes only a matter of minutes, with its shouts and rallying cries and everything in between, and by the end of it, all three of the executive-looking people have been tied up, much like me. In direct contrast, the prisoners who had been moments away from execution have been freed. A number of people have been more-or-less injured, some almost fatally. Only the ones fighting with the rebels were healed, with the rest being left to writhe in pain on the ground.

And here we are. That girl who caught me is standing at the podium, here on top of the stage. The executives—and me—are all lying on the ground like a row of wrapped-up maggots. It’s a bit awkward.

“Comrades! Rebels! Friends and fighters! For almost four months, our band has laid in wait, silently planning our resistance, waiting for the right moment to do what many considered impossible. For four months, we have been under the cruel rule of these power-hungry fascists. We have seen our friends executed for the most trifling of reasons, our fellow challengers physically abused for the mere crime of saying no, and our very own lives being made into the playthings of these ruthless, uncaring creatures!”

The crowd cheers and boos and a few throw things at the executives. Ow! Hey, don’t throw at me!

“They are wolves in our midst. While we should have been allies, we were made into enemies. In our demanded fight for resources to fuel the needs of the elite, we were made to fight each other. But in truth, we are not many peoples! We are not of different difficulties, or floors, or levels. We are only one group, and that is challengers!”

Wild cheering. She’s a really good talker, for some reason.

“This tutorial will no longer be ruled by an elite that does nothing but govern. It will be ruled by us challengers! As we fight, we will be rewarded. We shall not take from our fellow challenger, we shall not kill our fellow challenger, and we shall not cause harm to our fellow challenger. These are the rules we will follow, together, applicable to each and every one of us.”

She gestures to the executives, and also to me.

“For the crime of breaking all of these rules, these four shall face punishment. They shall receive what they have given, and they shall be an example of how we challengers will never allow ourselves to be ruled ever again!”

Hm. Huh. Come again. Miss, what exactly do you mean by these four?

Four small vials of blackish liquid appear in front of her, on top of the podium. “As they have forced innocent men and women to go into death seemingly of their own volition, to enter a floor with nothing but their own flesh and blood, they shall now likewise be forced to enter death of their own volition.”

I look to the right. Closest to me is a pretty big guy, dressed in black armour, his jaw clenched so hard I can see it bulge. Next to him is a younger man, lying perfectly still, the only hint of his inner thoughts being how deathly pale he is. And, furthest away, a young boy, younger than me, silently sobbing.

Leaving the podium, to the sound of screaming cheers, she walks up to the young boy first. Untying him, she pulls him up to a sitting position, and the second he’s seated, a sword snakes around his throat. I can see him tremble all the way from here. “I—I don’t want to,” he says in a trembling whisper. “I don’t want to die.”

She hands him the small black vial. His hands tremble something awful. I didn’t know the human eye could hold so much liquid, but there it goes. After taking a few shaking breaths, he brings the vial to his lips and tips it in, swallowing it all in one gulp. The bulge going down his throat bumps against the blade of the sword. He stares straight ahead. “Mommy—”

And then he drops dead. He just… dropped. Didn’t even kick or foam at the mouth or jerk or anything. Interesting.

And the crowd cheers so loudly it’s almost deafening.

She turns back to the crowd, grinning, spreading her arms. “And like that, JustAPrankBro has finally tasted his own medicine!” Cheering.

They undo the binds of the next one. He won’t sit up on his own, so they pull him up. His head is so limp he almost slumps right onto the blade, but the small cut the blade does along his neck is enough to get him out of it and he jerks upright, chest heaving, eyes wide and wandering. She hands him the small black vial. He doesn’t even look at it before taking a gulp. And then, just like before, he just drops. Thump.

“HuppiGupp has met his match!” she exclaims, like a sports commentator, almost. The crowd certainly reacts to it like they’re watching a match, that’s for sure.

She steps up to the final one before me. As soon as they undo his ropes he tries to attack, but a blade to his throat is enough to change his mind, and he ruefully sits down. She tries to hand him the poison but he just glares at it. “I won’t take it. No matter what you do, I won’t take it. If you want to kill me, be a real leader and do it yourself.”

She almost smiles at him. I don’t know what else to call the way her mouth twists, but it isn’t quite a smile. It just sort of looks like it. A dagger appears in her hand and before he even has time to close his mouth again it’s shoved deep into his throat. His eyes widen a little, but not much else. And when he drops, the knife she’s holding goes out of him and only then does the blood splurt, but just before that, just before the blood comes, there’s a single half-of-a-moment where you can see the RED of his inside, and it looks just like goblin meat, and it makes me drool a little.

“TalonsOfRage is no more!” Cheering.

She steps up to me and undoes my ropes. Whew, thanks, I was really starting to get uncomfortable in that posi-,

…What’s this sword doing around my throat?

She hands me a vial of black liquid. Um. See, you know, I really don’t want to be a bother or anything, but, heh, funny story, there’s actually been a bit of a mistake here. I’m not an exe—well, I am, but it’s not like I’ve done anything bad, so, like…

She nudges the vial closer to me. Ah. I get it. I just, um…

I sweat a little. “I’m not very thirsty.”

She waggles her knife at me.

…But I can make a bit of space, haha. Bottom’s up!

Slurp. Gulp.

…

…

…I look at the vial. I look at her.

She looks at the vial. She looks at me.

She waves a hand in front of my face and I shrug at her.

After glancing at her fellow rebels, she opens up her inventory and pulls out another one, handing it to me as she does. I uncork it and drink it. You know, on second swallow, it actually has a pretty nice, mellow flavour. Kind of like how I’d expect aged sap to taste.

It doesn’t do anything either, so she hands me a third. I drink it. The crowd starts murmuring. A fourth. I drink it. And at the fifth…

<You have learned:

Poison Protection Lv.2>

…Hey, nice!