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“Schwarzer, what the hell is happening?!”
“I don’t know—everything just vanished!”
“The hell does—Estelle, stop strafing the thing; keep it in one place!”
“I know what I’m doing!”
“I’m startin’ ta doubt that! And Joshua, stop freaking missing !”
“I’ll do my best!”
“Agate, why is Estelle’s HP bar near-empty?!"
“I’m busy trying not to die, which I wouldn’t need if someone was doing their JOB!”
“You’re not the only one—Instructor Sara, stop targeting me, you’re canceling all your attacks!”
“You’re not my real student, you don’t—hic—you don’t tell me what to do… wait, what’s your—hic—what’s your name again? Jonah?”
“Okay, who in Adios’ name is clicking their friggin’ hotkeys?!”
“I believe we are about to lose.”
A loud roar pierced through the air.
Then, darkness.
As the battlefield loaded up again, Kevin Argent leaned back in his chair. He pinched the bridge of his nose with a sigh. Switching his attention to the Discord window on his second monitor, he cleared his throat. “Okay. First, which one of you was using your mouse on the hotbar? They’re called hot keys for a reason! Ugh,” he groaned, “It’s like getting hit in the face with raw heresy!”
A nervous laugh filtered in, Rean’s icon lighting up like a neon sign. “Uh. That was me—but to be fair, I’ve been using the mouse exclusively since I started the game!”
“ Why?! ”
“What’s wrong with it?”
“What’s wr—Rean, my dear,” Sara drawled, “My precious—urp—precious student, tell me. What’s quicker between pressing a key and clicking a button?”
“...clicking a button?”
“Wrong answer!”
Rean let out a startled yelp. “Hey, I’ve done just fine until now—you never noticed, right? My hotbars just went blank for some reason; I must’ve pressed something by accident to shut them off.”
“Wait, wait, wait,” Estelle cut in, the sound of hands slamming on a desk echoing through the call. “You mean to tell me you’ve not only clicked your way through the entire MSQ, but you never bothered to lock your hotbars?! ”
“Is that what that lock symbol’s for? I thought it was a class thing I couldn’t use yet.”
“It’s to keep your skills together once you get enough for multiple hotbars,” Joshua explained. “I can tell you more about it once you hit level 51.”
“Sure!”
“The fact you survived 50 levels in self-imposed hard mode…” Agate scoffed. “I don’t know whether you’re a genius or an idiot.”
“Oh no,” Sara snarled, “Don’t you get on that high horse! Where the fuck were our heals?”
“Hey, you were just—oh, forget it. Look, you wouldn’t need healing if you just stayed in the goddess-damned circle!”
“Agate is correct,” Altina pointed out. “You would have been able to survive without a resurrection three times over if you had stayed within the range of Holy Earth.”
“Exactly!” Juna exclaimed. “You shouldn’t have even been aggroing the boss, you’re a DPS!”
A burp lit up Sara’s icon, Kevin making a quick mental note to ban alcohol consumption while ferrying new players through the game. “Then isn’t it Little Miss Edgelord who should take the blame for, you know, not aggroing hard enough?! ”
Estelle gasped, growling into the microphone. “I’m the off-tank , Valestein, that was Kevin’s job! And Chaos Chevalier isn’t edgy, it’s dark! ”
“Same difference!”
Kevin held up his hands, instinctively, before remembering his camera was off. “I was mitigating! Listen,” he added, pinging Rean to make sure he was listening. “Schwarzer, you need to save some rezzes for the rest of us; we can’t keep you alive if you won’t keep you alive!”
“Sorry, everyone,” Rean apologized. “I promise, I’ll lock my bars, and we’ll be good to go for the next run.”
“Next run’s gonna hafta be next week,” Kevin replied, moving to exit the duty. “Got stuck with Sunday School this week; Ries has a cold, and if there’s one thing worse than her with a cold, it’s all the little helli… angels spreading it around.”
“Calling it quits too,” Estelle called, her voice distant on her own mic but piercing through on Joshua’s mic. “We’ve got dinner with Dad, Mom, and Schera tomorrow.”
Joshua sighed, his character vanishing from the dungeon as well. “Plus, we expect a certain somebody to make a ‘surprise’ appearance, so we have to go pick up enough non-alcoholic wine to last the night.”
“Wait,” Juna interjected, his voice dripping with disbelief. “Isn’t he taking a trip to Liberl for that peace conference? It was in the Chronicle.”
“Olivert is,” Altina corrected. “I believe the Brights are referring to Mr. Lenheim.”
“... oh no. ”
“Goddess have mercy on ya, kids,” Kevin said with a snicker. “Valestein, Schwarzer, Crawford, Agate—any’a you down for some roulettes?”
“Nah, I gotta work on my Chef.” Kevin could hear Agate’s displeasure. “Tita wants to open an in-game workshop that sells food. Pay some Gald, get crystal melding and a cookie or something.”
Juna grumbled. “Good for you two. I have a test tomorrow, thanks to a certain someone .”
“I’m not even the one giving you that test,” Rean replied with an exasperated groan. “Towa is.”
“Only because you told her we needed practice with our budgeting skills!”
Another hiccup came from Sara’s mic. “School, schmool. I have a brunch date with a silver fox tomorrow, so I’m passing out.”
“... on your bed, right?” Juna asked, warily. “Not on the keyboard?”
There was silence from Sara’s side.
Rean sighed. “I’ll call Sharon and Claire to check on her. You guys have a good night.”
A chorus of “good nights” echoed through the call as it came to an end. Kevin took out his earbuds, leaning back in his chair. He still had a good few hours before he needed to crash, and both Rufina and Ries were fast asleep. Maybe I should get some eats and check out that Trigun book Thomas mentioned—if only to shut him up about it. You’d think it was the second coming of Aidios. “You’ll really want to check it out,” huh? We’ll see.
Kevin pushed his chair back, intending to head straight for the fridge; he’d hidden a few extra chocolate bars for just such a marathon.
He amended his plans, however, when he found a masked man sitting on his bed, reading his dog-eared copy of The Doll Knight. His blue and white outfit contrasted with the plain bedding and beige walls of Kevin’s room. He looked as out-of-place as a pom hosting a sermon (one of Rufina’s favorite expressions, ever since Estelle had muttered it in a stream-of-consciousness rant about how “boring” Kevin’s lessons were, which they were not ).
Kevin eventually figured this day would come, but with more of a bang than a whimper.
The room was silent, save for the sound of turning pages.
Eventually, Kevin cleared his throat, and the man spared a glance. "Was wonderin' when you'd show up."
The man stared at the priest for a moment before closing the book. “You can see me.”
“You’re hard to miss.” Kevin raised an eyebrow. “After all, it’s not every day Phantom Thief B stops by our little abode.”
The man chuckled, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “Is that so? Now that would make for an interesting tale, wouldn’t it? A calm night at the Argent household, interrupted by the appearance of a dashing thief, bent on seeking beauty in chaos. It would be a wonder to behold.”
“You’re not gonna try to bring that little idea to life, are ya?” Kevin’s eyes narrowed.
The man's eyes widened. "Heavens, no, not if I'm caught in the act. That's far too sad a sight for any dignified thief to—"
“Don't try to pull the wool over my eyes." Kevin's voice was cold. "We both know you're not him."
"Hm?"
"Not that you don’t pull off a solid impersonation, but he’s usually a little less…" Kevin hummed. "... conspicuous than you’re being right now. Plus, this isn’t his usual M.O., y’see.”
“Oh? Is it not in the nature of a thief of beauty to seek that everlasting prize in all its forms, however mundane?”
“Sure, sure, and don’t get me wrong—this is a beautiful setup you got here.” Kevin maneuvered across the room, his eyes staying on the stranger as he backed towards his dresser. “Thing is, B works with more riddles and cards than illusions , though—or at least, illusions that work on this grand of a scale. He usually limits himself to some fancy projectors or disguises.”
"Go on," the man urged, mirth in his tone. "I'd love to see where this goes."
"I'm gettin' there." Kevin fumbled behind his back for the top drawer, the man making no moves to stop him as pulled on the handle. “B could do something concise and localized, maybe. But to get not just me, but damn near everyone I know in Liberl and Erebonia, in on it? Hardly. Not to mention there's no way he'd get people I've never met before feeling like they're age-old pals. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if some folks from Crossbell and Calvard’re in the mix too and I just haven't met 'em yet. It’s way beyond the capabilities of one hack magician… no offense, o’course, all disguises considered.”
“None taken. But, if I’m not Phantom Thief B,” the man drawled, leaning forward, “Then who am I?”
Kevin shrugged. “You could be a lot of things. You could be some vestige of Phantasma, some other artifact we stumbled upon like schmucks… but somethin’ tells me you’re more than that. Something tells me you’re closer to a miracle than an Artifact, even one as powerful as the Recluse Cube. Something with the strength to extend its tendrils across the world, even if it was hidden away by, for example, a bunch of lousy snakes. If I had to put a name to it though…” A nervous grin spread across Kevin’s face. “I think Aureole would be a mighty good one—don’t you?”
“... my, my. You are a perceptive one, aren’t you?" The man… no, the creature tilted its mask ever-so-slightly downward, to ensure Kevin could see the piercing glare being shot his way. Its eyes shone gold. “Perceptive enough to realize the truth from day one, I presume, waiting for me to make my move." Kevin reached into the drawer, his hand hovering over its contents as he waited for the imposter to finish. "I daresay you won the waiting game. Well played, Father Argent. Or should I say, Father Graham? ”
Kevin withdrew his crossbow from the drawer, aiming it squarely at the Sept-Terrion’s face...or, well, the approximation of its face. “Funny. Never figured a ring had a personality."
"The Goddess works in mysterious ways, Father."
Kevin glowered at the fake B. "You have a total of ten seconds to let us out of here, before I do to you what I did to the Third Anguis.”
“Ah, Georg...he seemed to have such promise, you know,” the Aureole replied, its voice taking on… not quite a tone, but a lack of one. It became something that felt utterly alien to Kevin. “All of you religious types do, really; after all, devotion to the Goddess and the desire to use Her works are one and the same. Of course, it hurts me that you would stoop so low as to threaten one of Her miracles in such a manner.”
“It wouldn’t be the first time I did that.”
“Oh, I know. Do I ever know.”
Kevin drew closer, his gaze never leaving the Aureole’s own. “If that’s the case, then you sure as hell know I have a teensy bit of an issue with folks trying to trap me in a fake reality.”
“Who said it was fake?” The Aureole stood, placing the mask back upon its face. “Certainly, something like the Recluse Cube was a mishmash of the land of Zemuria and its people, but even you can see the difference here—can’t you?” It walked towards the computer, running a hand along the keyboard. “This technology, the culture around you, your entertainment and pleasures? These are inspired from that which I saw Her children create upon the Liber Ark in its prime.
“I didn’t stop there, either. Those living their day-to-day lives; your fellow priests, the fellows at the grocery store or the bookshop… the schoolchildren your beloved adores so much,” it continued, grinning back at Kevin. “All as close to humanity as can be. It may not be your world, and its inhabitants may not be flesh and blood like yourself, but they are real . Some parts taken from what I witnessed upon the when you all arrived, some from the thoughts and experiences of my latest captors...but all true, in some fashion. You intend to ask me to take that away from them all the same? To take them away?”
Kevin didn’t answer, his weapon still trained on the Sept-Terrion.
“And what of your friends , Father Graham?” The Aureole glanced around the desk, littered as it was with bottles and miscellaneous items—Mira, books, bills, the like. Its eyes fell upon a framed picture: Kevin, centered at a birthday party with the Brights, Ries, Agate, Schera, Tita, and Olivier (or, at least, his head; Mueller had pulled him away as he tried to take center stage). “Are you telling me their experiences— your experiences—have all been false as well? That they don’t deserve a happily ever after, a new world free of strife, merely because you believe them to be better off that way?”
“You talk a lot for a piece’a jewlery,” Kevin grumbled. “Is that how you got the folks on the Ark to play ball?”
It shrugged. “Among other ways. I’ve tried to avoid altering your brain chemistry like I did back then; I wish merely for you to understand the joys of this world, of this perfect place, on your own terms. I’ve found that when my chosen ones realize they've been forced to accept a better life, thanks to some combination of fantastical elements instead of by their own volition… well. It rarely turns out as intended. It’s much better for those inside to believe in the world themselves.”
Kevin snorted. “The thought’s appreciated, really.”
“Now, then.” The Aureole leaned against the desk chair, its voice taking on the air of the Phantom Thief once more. “I have to ask—do you like this face, this voice? I could try another, if you prefer.” Its voice went up a few octaves, an airy tone filtering in. “Something filled with sunshine and a go-getter attitude? Or perhaps—” Its voice grew lower, more laid-back and casual. “Something soothing and as melodious as a song?” Its face and voice shifted one final time into a sneering Weissman. “Knowing you, it would be easier for you to simply see me as a tempting villain, I suppose.”
“Glad you’re having a good time,” Kevin spat. “But the show's over. Send us back.”
The Aureole sighed, the monotonous drone seeping in as its face returned to that of the thief. “You truly think killing the shell will do anything? I am this world, Father Graham; you’ll have to do better than that. At least let me get to my offer before you try anything rash.”
“...” Kevin lowered his weapon, running his free hand through his hair. “Fine. Tell me, then—the hell do you want out of this?”
“Merely for you to play your role. I can’t risk the possibility that you’ll eventually decide to take matters into your own hands, so I would like to offer a simple contract: surrender yourself to me. If you do so, I’ll grant you all that you desire and all that those you love desire as well. You live out a perfectly normal existence in this world, and when you get old, you die, like everyone else.” Phantom Thief B’s lips curled into a smile, one that terrified Kevin in how genuine it felt. Its voice changed to one he knew all too well, one he heard every day and night, and one whose owner was but two rooms down. “I merely want you to live a happy life, Kevin.”
“Do you, now.” Kevin’s eyes closed as he considered the Sept-Terrion’s words. “Shit, I really think you do. You legitimately think this is what we want—nah, what we need, don’t ya?”
The entity tilted its head. “Don’t tell me you disagree.”
“Hate to say it, but I do.”
“But…” The creature seemed legitimately confused, its grin turning into a massive frown. “Why? Why would you wish to return to the pain of your world? The agonies that you suffered, those that yet await? If it's a challenge you wish for, I can offer it ! Why do you still reject me?! ”
“No big, meaningful reason, really.” Kevin scratched his cheek, trying to think of the words. “I just don’t think you get us humans at all.”
"... what?"
Kevin gestured for the Aureole to move, approaching the desk as the figure stepped aside. "Sure, peace is nice. I’d love to have some days where literally nothing happened. But, if you want my five Mira, us flesh-and-blood types live for more than nothing. We’re all headed to plenty of nothin’ once we head into the great beyond." He picked up the photo, staring at it with a fond smile. This was something the Aureole hadn't created, after all. "We live for the experience of it all, for sharing the world with those around us. We don't seek hardships; the universe, in all its randomness, and the Goddess, in all her grace, provide them at their own pace. We just roll with the punches, searching for those… in-between moments that make life worth it."
“Oh, what pretentious drivel.” the creature spat, its voice warbling between that of a monotonous machine and Phantom Thief B. “I could easily give you things to do, entertainment and pleasures galore.”
"I prefer the term poetic, thank you very much.” Kevin sighed, shaking his head. “You really don’t get it. Entertainment’s only a fraction of life, y’know. Sometimes it’s about the ups and downs, the joys and the pains we share—and I ain’t sayin’ we gotta hurt to live, y’know. I’m just sayin’ that sometimes in the process of living, we’re gonna get hurt." He shrugged. “It can be unfair, or cruel, or even so agonizing you wanna head right into the Goddess’ embrace. We probably would be better off without it, in some cases. But you don’t have the right to decide that for everyone.”
The Aureole scoffed. “And you do?”
Kevin shook his head once more. “Nah. Just a gut instinct telling me this is what I gotta do, a whole lotta fear about what you’ll do if I agree, and faith that the Goddess believes in my judgement.” He raised his crossbow once more. "Now, I’ll ask again: are you gonna let us all go, or am I gonna hafta make you?"
"I am this world, Father Graham," the Aureole warned. "You cannot so easily—"
It froze mid-sentence, staring at the arrow notched in the bow.
"Y'know, you ran into me during a real tough time in my life." Kevin watched the color drain from the Sept-Terrion's sorta-face as it recognized the danger it had put itself in. "I wasn't exactly packing regular ammo when I went to finish my mission. You said everything here was based on real life." A determined glint danced through Kevin’s eyes. "Wanna test that theory?"
"You… you wouldn't dare."
"Oh?” Kevin rubbed his chin in mock thought. “Is the Goddess' precious miracle afraid of a little salt ?"
"You damned fool! This could kill everyone in this reality, don’t you understand?!"
"Hey, I ain't the one who made it; just the one who found a loophole a certain someone missed. Plus, I think ol' Weissman would say otherwise. After all, I didn't turn into a statue like him when he took his final breath. Why should I be worried? Heck, why should you? " Kevin sneered. "Unless this shell is more important to your continued existence than you let on."
The being shook in barely-concealed rage. "No. No, you wouldn't take that risk, not with so much at stake!”
Kevin's glare darkened. "Try me."
The Aureole was silent. Then… "I'm offering you heaven in all but name. Eking out survival by flocking together is how beasts and insects live. Is that really all-"
The figure stopped, its words unspoken as Kevin let out a cackle. "Man, oh man. I guess Weissman got to you more than you got to him. I guess megalomania is a two-way street, huh?” The creature’s face shifted briefly to the man in question, fury in its eyes, before swapping back to B’s masked visage. “Alright, how's about a quote for a quote? This one should be gospel, really." Kevin smirked. " People don't need to be omnipotent superbeings or whatever you want them to be. People just need to be aware of each other and help each other out. One' a my best friends said that, and she had a damn point. Besides, this place ain't heaven. If it were..."
A flash of memory, of the worst day of his life.
He paused, holding back the urge to hurl. "If it were, she'd be here."
"... an oversight, I see. One I’ll be careful to avoid in the future. Very well, Father Graham," the Aureole conceded. "You win." The space around the two began to crumble, a void forming in place of the homely bedroom. "They will not know of your choice. I condemn you to live with it, come what may."
"A real damnation from a miracle of Aidios." Kevin chuckled. "Truly an honor."
Said miracle returned the laugh. "I still want the best for your kind. One day, I will return."
Kevin nodded as he felt his consciousness begin to slip away. "On that day, we'll be there to send you packing."
"Is that so? I'd certainly like to see you try." The Aureole extended its arms wide. "Kevin Graham, he who walks with the Goddess. If you truly believe you carry Her will, through the endless skies themselves…
"May the trail you follow lead to a miracle even greater than Her own."
As the world ended, darkness shrouding the Aureole as his sight left him, Kevin smiled.
He thought of the memories he'd have to carry, of the wonders he'd be leaving behind and the chances he was losing.
The people who would walk with him, unknowing.
Joshua and Estelle, unaware that their peaceful life with their parents—both of them—came to an end at his hand.
Rean and his pals… Kevin couldn’t say he really knew them, but they were good kids. Kind, caring. He wanted the best for ‘em—but the world rarely returned kindness without sacrifice.
Ries. Oh, Ries. She already went through this all once before. If she ever learned… would she despise him?
He'd hope they would stay by his side, even if they knew.
At that moment, he could see a light before him. Something warm. He could hear words, but he couldn’t make them out.
Still, in that brief flash of time and light, he knew it would all be okay.
He could feel it.
“I’m in your hands,” he muttered, allowing the light to wash over him.
“Sorry,” the shop owner apologized, “But I’ve never heard of Trigun before, so we wouldn’t have it in stock.”
“Ah, crap. No worries, then,” Kevin replied, slumping his shoulders. “I really figured you guys might have it.”
“Maybe try a smaller store,” the shopkeep suggested. “Something in Crossbell, perhaps?”
“I’ll consider it.”
“Here’s hoping you find it!”
“Right, right. See ya.” Kevin walked out of the department store, hands stuffed in his coat pockets. “At this rate,” he muttered, “I’ll have to write the damn thing if I wanna read it.”
While it had not been too long since he aided the Special Support Section during the Azure Tree incident—even if that only ended in tragedy for the now-province of Crossbell—, Kevin had mentally spent months within the Sept-Terrion’s illusion. He suspected it was just long enough to entice him to want to stay and accept the Aureole’s offer, but he couldn't ask the thing, so it was all speculation. He’d told Ries everything that occurred because of course he would, whether she had memory of it or not. While she didn’t recall anything at first, she slowly came around to believing Kevin, particularly when he described a memory with her and Rufina that seemed to spark some level of nostalgia within her.
“And then, you brought out this cake that looked like my face—but it was like someone had gone and scribbled all over it with a green marker, and… Ries?”
“...how did you know about that? I-I only showed that cake to Rufina. When we were still...”
“I-wait, you actually made something like that?”
“I wanted to get you something for your birthday that wasn’t just a new cross or a chocolate bar.”
“Pffff.”
“I was a child!”
It became a lot easier for her to believe in the memory-scraping illusionary world after that.
After getting that knot untangled, the two spent a solid week at home, discussing what he experienced and planning out a further excavation of the ruins of Liber Ark, to see just how much of what the Aureole told him was true. If they could find even a semblance of some of that technology… the Church would definitely want to learn more, that much was certain. Though he’d tell nobody beyond Ries, he also found himself spending an inordinate amount of time that week on the couch with the reading equivalent of comfort food.
Who knew cat language was so intricate?
Once the excavation was in order, Kevin set about looking into the status of the people he’d been trapped in the illusion with, to ensure their safety (and, if possible, see if their memories were intact as well). Some were easier to track down than others; the Brights and their Bracer friends, along with the Crown Princess of Liberl and the Debaucherous Prince of Erebonia, were living their lives as per… well, their standard of normal. Over the course of several brief visits, he’d found that none of them seemed to recall a thing. He held back on the full details of his own experience, only telling them that there was some movement with Ouroboros regarding the Aureole that they needed to be on the lookout for.
He’d spotted Juna with her family while he was in the Crossbell area, but chose to let her be. After all, what was he gonna tell her? “Hey, I’m friends of friends with your teachers from a fake world where we all played games together”? Hardly an icebreaker. He presumed the Special Support Section had gotten caught up in the fray, given the scope of the illusion, but as far as he could tell they were still dealing with the aftermath of Giliath Osborne’s occupation of their state.
Speaking of ol’ Ironblood, Kevin had even less luck determining if he was trapped by the illusion as well—or worse, involved in it. He couldn’t remember ever hearing the man’s name while he was trapped, which raised plenty of red flags… not that he could do much about it, given the tight security around the Chancellor. He’d have to file that under “urgent” on his to-do list.
The only Erebonians Kevin knew personally while in the Aureole’s world were Schwarzer, Orion, the Vanders, and Valestein; everyone else was one big question mark, like the mythical (in that he never met them personally despite how often they came up in conversation) Sharon and Claire. Still, he’d managed to get a hold of the Vanders when dealing with Olivert, and he’d seen Valestein drunk off her ass at a bar in Trista, so they seemed to be accounted for. That just left the man he and Ries were hunting for in Heimdallr, where he was seen most frequently.
Rean Schwarzer, however, had been very hard to pin down. It’s what happens when your gaming buddy turns out to be a war hero.
(For that matter, Orion apparently made it a point to not be found, considering the photograph of... well, himself that he received from a Church official in contact with the Erebonian Intelligence Division. Some kinda warning, probably, to stay out of their business. He could manage that for now; considering she stuck to Schwarzer like glue in the illusion, odds were high that the agent would be nearby once the Ashen Chevalier was finally found.)
At least it gave him a reason to check the local bookstores. Despite knowing his odds were slim, that one nagging thread from the illusion still bothered him. Why in the hell did Thomas want him to read that one book so badly? Was it something that held a secret about the Aureole, perhaps, or a secret message?
It shouldn’t have bugged him as much as it did, but…
It didn’t hurt to look.
...financially, at least, he thought. Psychologically...different story. How can nobody have this damn thing?
Kevin looked around, frowning. The crowds were starting to filter in from the station. Ries was supposed to meet with him for lunch at a nearby cafe, but she was running late. If he stuck around any longer, they’d more likely be snacking on chocolate bars on the ride to Bareahard, where Schwarzer was due for a charity dinner in a few days time. Not the worst fate, but he barely had a bite to eat today as it was. Yeah, no, I need some grub. May as well grab a table before it’s too late, he thought, turning toward the nearby street. Before he could take a few steps, he felt something slam into his chest—or rather, someone. Kevin spun for a moment in place, wobbling as he tried to keep steady.
“Sorry about that!” a voice called out—a familiar one. Kevin’s eyes widened as he took in the newcomer.
Black hair.
Obnoxiously fake glasses.
A snazzy coat.
A sword that was probably not for show.
Rean Schwarzer placed his hands on Kevin’s shoulder, helping steady the priest. “I should’ve paid more attention to where I was going. You alright?”
“Yeah,” Kevin managed, “Just peachy.”
Rean nodded, turning to leave. “Have a good day, sir!”
“Hold it, hold it!” Kevin called out, a little louder than he meant to. Rean froze in place, nervously glancing over his shoulder. “You look… familiar,” he continued, catching the flash of panic that ran through Rean’s eyes.
“F-familiar? I’m afraid you have me mistaken for someone else then, sir.”
“Nah, nah...I know you for sure.” Kevin slung an arm around Rean’s shoulder, grinning. “You’re Rean, right? Thomas talks about you all the time!”
“I’m sorry, I have to… wait, you know Instructor Thomas?” Rean asked, blinking.
“Yup; part’a the same book club.” Stepping back, Kevin took a theatrical bow. “Kevin Graham, at your service.”
Looking around cautiously, Rean bowed back. “Rean. Nice to meet you.”
“Yeah, I guess you’d wanna keep the last name on the down low—not that there’s many Reans in Erebonia, but still.” Kevin gestured with his thumb down the street. “I was about to get a bite with someone, but they’re runnin’ late. You want a coffee?”
“Oh, sure,” Rean replied, surprise in his voice. “I was on my way to get some lunch myself.”
“Now, see that? The Goddess smiled upon our meeting, I tell ya.” Rean’s face flickered once more at that, but Kevin chose to ignore it for now. “Let’s shake a leg, before the business-types take up all the good seats.”
“Right.” As Rean followed Kevin down the street, Kevin wondered why he never remembered the first meeting he had with… well, anyone in the illusion. It had been like they were friends for years. Probably the Sept-Terrion’s way of smoothing over any personality conflicts that might’ve occurred.
For all it was worth, he hoped he got along with the kid. If his personal character was anything like his in-game character, Schwarzer was likely the type to hurl himself in the way of a problem and not care if he came out looking like a bloody mess. He no doubt had friends; in the illusion, he never, ever stopped talking about other people (to the point where getting any information about Rean himself was like pulling nails). Still, with the way the world was, and the kinda person Kevin knew Rean to be… the kid needed someone in his corner.
“So,” he asked, casually, glancing at the small book in Rean’s coat pocket, “Whatcha readin’?”
Rean glanced at the pocket. “Oh, it’s actually kind of funny—Instructor Thomas actually lent me this the last time I saw him. Finally got a chance to check it out, and go figure, it’s in a foreign language. It’s a strange kind of comic, possibly from ancient Calvard. I’m not sure where it came from, but Instructor Thomas said it was discovered in some waterlogged ruins. It’s a little damaged, but it survived being fully destroyed thanks to being locked away in a watertight bookcase. Not so sure how much I believe him, but it’s legitimately old enough to make me wonder.” Pulling the book out, Rean handed it to Kevin. “You read it right to left, apparently, so the front cover is actually on the back.”
“Right.” He was a bit of a history geek, thinking on it...
Kevin flipped the book over. A man with a mop of spiky, blonde hair greeted him, though the cover’s aging color saturation made it look almost green. A long coat draped down to his knees, and he held some kind of ranged firearm in his hand. It was like looking into a funhouse mirror, which would’ve been strange enough.
Then he saw it.
The title “Trigun” stuck out like a neon sign.
“... goddess damn it all,” Kevin muttered, much to Rean’s confusion, as he gripped the book so tight the spine began to bend. “ That’s why it was so important, Thomas?!”
“K-Kevin?”
“I’m gonna kill him.” As he stomped towards the cafe, Rean stumbling along after him, Kevin muttered, “I swear, when I get my hands on his friggin' neck...”
Somewhere in the vast expanse of the Erebonian Empire, Thomas Lysander felt a chill go up his spine.
Hm.
It was probably nothing.