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Everything was going according to plan.
The boss fight with the Sweaty Dragon had gone off without a cinch despite the lack of grinding the duo had done. Vallamir could tell. When he caught them mid-teleport, the only sweat coming from their brow was from the heat of the battle itself rather than the stress of it.
Instead, the tension within Legendaria’s heroes came from this sudden intermission. Lazarus was visibly confused, inquiring about what exactly was happening to Chandrelle. This interception was just for him, finally clueing him into the plan he and the sorceress had concocted ages ago during beta testing. The fall of Legendaria.
The heroine and villain knew they couldn’t leave Lazarus to the wayside forever, and seeing as they had just collected the first Orb of Power– Chandrelle showing off her new moveset on the battlefield– this seemed like the perfect occasion to finally reveal the truth. She didn’t expect this meeting to happen so suddenly, but she rolled with the punches. She had to adapt if she was going to quell the hunger.
Following the knight’s inquiry, Vallamir quickly explained the plot in no uncertain terms. There was no reason to sugarcoat it when it was truly plain and simple. With a smile, he hummed, “Instead of saving the world, your heroine is going to destroy it!”
Like clockwork, his co-conspirator took over the explanation. “Look, Lazarus,” her voice was rarely soft or gentle, but she calmly gave her modus operandi to her sidekick. “This franchise could go on for dozens of sequels. Why not give the unknown a chance?”
“Also, I can give you some sweet end-game gear. I’ve got a sword from Endervale.” Vallamir sweetened the deal. He knew just how much Lazarus loved swordsmanship, a bribe like that was sure to work.
Every part of the pact had been plotted out perfectly, everything that could go wrong noted down and given a variety of fixes. They were devoted to the fall of this game; they were devoted to their personal cause. As Chandrelle’s loyal sidekick, surely the knight would fall into place, a pawn on the chess board that gave the Dark Lord his orbs.
He thought about it for a moment, processing the news given to him out of the blue. They had all the time in the world for him to make his choice, though the revolutionaries suffered from impatience. The more time they waited for him to agree, the more time they wasted showcasing their twist ending. Vallamir kept his smug smile while Chandrelle tapped her foot on the ground; her expression was neutral, but he could see a hopeful glint in her eye.
“You’re out of your mind!” Lazarus stepped back, “both of you! Both of you are– this is insane. This is insane .”
Both fell silent, a surprising feat for Vallamir. His eye slowly turned to Chandrelle, expression slightly shifting to one of… worry. This wasn’t part of the plan, a single unaccounted for mistake.
Admittedly, Lazarus was a last-minute factor from the beginning. Despite being the loyal sidekick, the duo kept the plan from him until this very moment, entirely to avoid the possibility of betrayal from a sworn knight. He couldn’t be ignored forever, both the heroine and villain knew this, but it appeared their earlier suspicions were correct.
Her back was turned from him, so Vallamir couldn’t see what was running through her mind through her eyes.
Yet, her posture was stiff. Her hands laid slack at her side. Her mouth stayed shut. Her fists suddenly clenched, still planted at her waist.
She was angry. It didn’t take a perception check to determine that. Vallamir rushed to break the tension. “Dude, it’s a really cool sword–”
No amount of bargaining would change Lazarus’ mind, however. He continued to rebuttal the revolutionaries. “You know damn well what’s going to happen to us if we break the game. It isn’t some brave unknown, it’s the Void!”
“Lazarus–”
Chandrelle finally piped up, voice low. Her fists were still balled, her grip turning her knuckles white. “And I’ll take the Void over this. I’d take anything over the same story over and over again.”
The knight’s voice stayed stern. “That’s your battle, Chandrelle.”
“So you’ll take endless sequels? Endless, repetitive slop?”
“I’ll take keeping my life!” He barked back, regaining his posture from suddenly throwing his arms down as he added an addendum. “People are going to lose their jobs, not just you– not just us . Vallamir!”
Attention now directed to him; the Dark Lord shifted in his spot slightly. “Yeah, man?–”
“You have to know how niche you are, don’t you?”
“Uh–”
“You’re an RPG boss, Vallamir,” the knight stated plainly. “One with a specific design, specific mechanics. You don’t work anywhere but Secrets. And you have to know that. And you still… you’re signing your death warrant. Both of you.”
Vallamir had no counter argument.
He knew damn well what he was signing up for. He might’ve been written to be a dumbass, but he wasn’t stupid. A cycloptic being made out of purple gas could only work in a fantasy setting like this, he wasn’t as versatile as the standard enemy NPCs. They could find new employment in another game; he and the other bosses would surely be voided or scrapped altogether.
And it was a risk he was willing to take.
All he could muster was a soft, “I know.” It wasn’t resigned, it wasn’t fearful, it was straight to the point. He wasn’t ashamed. He wasn’t scared. He was getting his orbs by the end of the run, that was the plan he and Chandrelle conjured during those late beta tests.
What was the point of being the big bad if you were left one-dimensional? And Endervale was greatly cut for time? Who was to say the sequels would fare any better? Who was to say the Dark Lord would get anything more than NPCs claiming how scary he was?
Freedom was on the tip of he and Chandrelle’s tongues, and it tasted better than any Orb of Power.
Yet, Lazarus denied himself a fine cuisine. The knight stared at his antagonist for a brief moment, a subtle expression of shock laced his eyes, soon replaced with the look of indignation the two had become used to in this confrontation. He was already calling the purple perpetrators insane, but from that glimpse, that one shift in his eyes, Lazarus had to quickly realize just how devoted Vallamir was. He was the odd man out in this trio.
“If you two want to throw your lives away, then be my guest… but I’m not becoming an accomplice in this madness –”
Vallamir suddenly realized Chandrelle hadn’t spoken in a bit. With her last comment, her voice was gravely, full of intention and malice. He was so focused on Lazarus’ reaction, he didn’t pay attention to the white-knuckled, stiff-postured, seething-with-rage elf in front of him.
Lazarus was abruptly cut off by pale hands grabbing onto his shoulders, pulling him closer and keeping his feet planted. If he wanted to try and walk out of the cutscene, he should’ve bolted when he had the chance. Chandrelle’s raw strength wasn’t enough to pierce his armor, but Vallamir could imagine the indents and the scratches her nails were making regardless.
“They’ll milk us dry!” Was the desperate beginning of her monologue. She kept her voice heightened, not exactly screaming throughout it, but still ensuring her words overpowered anything Lazarus (or even Vallamir) would try to say. She spoke with purpose. She spoke with hysteria. She spoke like a hungry dog.
“They’ll reuse us, they’ll make the same game until the end of time. We’ll be put into that field and forced to grind slimes to beat outrageous bosses until someone’s harddrive corrupts. We’ll be redesigned until we’re barely recognizable from what we look like now. They’ll strip me down until I’m running around casting spells in my undergarments. They’ll shave you down and lighten your skin in the remaster. They’ll erase Vallamir by the third game and replace him with a villain with the exact same motivations. Hell, you’ll be erased by the third game when it turns out you aren’t testing well, because your role is meaningless, Lazarus.
You are nothing more than my sidekick. You are nothing more than someone who has five lines when we first meet and nothing else. You could do nothing in battle and I’d still beat a boss with ease. No one would know your name if you didn’t have a health bar. No one would notice if you got replaced by another knight with far more personality in his lines, no one would care that the teammate I have far more chemistry with picked up your blade, no one gives a shit about you as a character.”
You exist because you were supposed to be the main character, and when that fell through, your purpose changed to supporting me in fights. Your purpose changed to being a loyal companion to absorb hits for me. You exist for future romance fodder.”
Her voice cracked at the last point. Lazarus’s expression had been one of fear and shock up until this point… but his eyes widened and softened at this comment. He opened his mouth to speak; his scowl turned to a slack jaw as nothing left his lips.
Chandrelle didn’t stall any longer.
“...The world would only care about you if they could imagine us celebrating defeating the Dark Lord with a kiss, it’s that or they’ll prefer cardboard to a woman. You are no one’s favorite character, not genuinely. You are nothing. ”
The air in the room went still. The sorceress panted as she finally caught her breath, allowing silence to waft over the trio. This was far from a relief, though. Lazarus was still stunned, and Vallamir was similarly left in a state of shock. He held back a cough, refusing to be accused of adding humor to the tension in that loading screen.
Instead, he finally moved from his spot. Just because Chandrelle’s voice was now hoarse didn’t mean the situation couldn’t escalate further. He rushed to their sides, ready to pull the elf off her human sidekick or just push the two of them away. In preparation for any situation, he stayed between the two of them.
He could finally see Chandrelle’s eyes.
Her beautiful, dark eyes. Her eyes that remained narrowed and focused, only softening in the presence of her companions and nothing else. Her eyes, stained with his purple after they agreed to this plan.
These very eyes were clouded with madness, practically bulging out of their sockets as she stared down Lazarus like prey. She would pounce at any moment, entirely transfixed on the face of a traitor. Vallamir wasn’t even sure if she blinked from when she grabbed him up till now.
The disloyal knight finally found his voice. “Is… is that what you think of me?” He choked out the question, sadness clearly in his voice.
Chandrelle hesitated. Her eyes remained focused like a hawk, but Vallamir could see the slightest shift in her pupils.
“…No, Lazarus. I don’t. That’s how the world sees you: gamers, creators, and NPCs alike. I know the real you, the one who isn’t scripted. Vallamir knows the real you,” Vallamir nodded along. “But the masses don’t and never will. You can live as your true self if you come along with us, we all can.
She loosened her grip on him by a smidge. The Dark Lord could guess the next words that’d fall from her lips; ‘Pick up your sword and fight.’
But she didn’t get to say anything else before the disloyal knight swatted her hands away. Her release was just enough for him to shimmy away and go on the offensive. Vallamir quickly interjected the conflict, yelping out a rapid succession of “HEY!” and separating the two with his tail.
He tried to reason with both parties. “Can we calm the hell down?–”
“It’s not freedom if it’s exile, Chandrelle! Why are you so willing to fight for punishment?!”
“Lazarus, stop yellin’–”
Chandrelle barked back. “And why are you so willing to stand down?! To rot with the sequels?!”
“Can we take a breather, Chandrelle?–”
“I’ve already explained myself!”
“Guys–”
“You hate this game as much as me, Lazarus. You hate the grind and you hate the slog, and yet you’d rather die a tropey cog than have any chance at something else!”
“Please–”
“Do you want me to apologize for not wanting my colleagues to suffer?! Where will half of the slimes go if the game shuts down?! The Kobolds, the bosses?! MOJI?! ”
Vallamir was about to strike another unheard plea as he kept the squabbling partners apart when the air shifted once more. He glanced back at Chandrelle. Her brows furrowed, and with the slightest curl of her lip, she threw out an innocuous comment.
“You won’t have to worry about Moji.”
Lazarus tried to take a step forward, only stopped by Vallamir’s blockage. His tone was still harsh, but his question was laced with a horrified curiosity, “what do you mean by that?”
The sorceress shrugged her shoulders, almost like this was some sort of joke. Like the situation was funny. The Dark Lord had to admit it was pretty funny outside of this context.
“Moji won’t be seeking reemployment. The dead can’t work.” She said this plainly.
Sacrifices had to be made.
Vallamir knew this far too well.
But Lazarus didn’t.
Silence filled the room for a moment. Biting his tongue, Vallamir prepared for what came next. He knew in his gut that someone would start swinging.
“You…” the knight’s voice was shaky, “you… killed him?”
“…Shit happens, Lazarus–” the gaseous being didn’t get to finish his explanation before the elf cut him off.
“Yes,” another plain answer. “We did.”
The confession barely had time to settle in the air before Lazarus reacted. He shoved Chandrelle off of him, grimacing when she didn’t fall to the floor but instead kept her balance. Vallamir moved quickly, protectively wrapping himself around the sorceress and bearing his fangs at the disloyal knight.
“CALM DOWN, DUDE–”
“ I’M THE IRRATIONAL ONE?!” He screamed at the duo, creating the distance himself by taking a few steps back. “ I’M THE ONE WHO IS SUPPOSED TO BE CALM?! YOU KILLED A FATHER! A–AND YOU REFUSE TO BACK DOWN FROM THIS SUICIDE MISSION! That’s what you’re on, a suicide mission… and I’m the bad guy for having any semblance of sense .”
Chandrelle barked back, “You thought he was annoying, too.”
“Just because he’s annoying doesn’t mean he should DIE?!”
“And you’ll exploit the bugs and glitches as much as you please, but actively making something out of them–“
“There’s a difference between cheesing a boss fight and eternal unemployment– damnation, even!”
“You–”
“Just shut up already! Shut up! Both of you! Both of you are– I already said it– you’re mad . You’re deranged .”
Vallamir’s hold on Chandrelle tightened. The knight wasn’t even wrong with this sentiment; it takes a special kind of desperation and apathy to make this choice. A plot to destroy the game is something only a villain could think of, and yet he was merely the accomplice. Chandrelle came up with it all by herself. She went to him to strike a deal, and Vallamir was the one who made it into a plan.
In their days together, the long days of alpha and beta testing with Irving barking orders down their necks, the lord grew quite fond of the supposed heroes of this land. Both of them. It wasn’t forbidden to have a good rapport with your coworkers, but it was made clear all three were supposed to stay in character, especially the Dark Lord.
Everything that could have made him an interesting villain was cut for time, with only his boss fight remaining once all three orbs were collected.
He didn’t even care about the orbs. Technically, he wasn’t supposed to care about anything, he was made to be aloof and apathetic, but that sentiment was something he could commit to. He didn’t care about the Orbs of Power; he cared about his friends.
Secrets of Legendaria was doomed to recycle and reuse, and he couldn’t ensure he’d have anything to his name but a hard-hitting rock ballad for his boss fight on the OST.
If he could be known for anything, he’d prefer it was this; going down with the two people he held close by his side, escaping the cycle. It was a suicide mission. It was deranged. The two of them were mad, and he was quickly realizing he couldn’t have his cake and eat it too.
Knights stand for honor and principle. Lazarus never perfectly fit that mold; he was incredibly lazy and snarky, taking any chance to get out of the grinding and training possible (as Chandrelle had pointed out). He made great conversation with his sarcastic comments towards Irving and his dry delivery with most lines. He wasn’t devoted to his role, none of them were, but that characterization still shined through.
Even then, being disturbed by this plan wasn’t a case of principle and duty; it was morality.
Ultimately, Vallamir couldn’t be mad that Lazarus wanted nothing to do with their plan; with them.
Yet, it still stung. The last thing he wanted was to scream at his friend, especially not over this. The last thing he wanted was a tussle between heroine and sidekick. The last thing he wanted was to make a choice . It wasn’t fair.
Telling him about the plan earlier couldn’t have prevented this, his reaction proved that hypothesis. They wouldn’t be here now if they did; sabotaged by the man who fell into the background of battles. Sabotaged by a friend, a companion.
Sabotaged by Chandrelle’s love interest.
There was no turning back now.
She didn’t say anything in response to Lazarus’ comment, and likewise, Vallamir continued his out-of-character vow of silence. Their companion didn’t wait for a response, taking a moment to catch his breath before he continued to lay into them. His breaths were shaky, pure rage and disgust evident with each pant.
“I thought we were equals, I thought we were all friends . Clearly, I was wrong, wrong to believe in some fairytale ending. Do as you please, do whatever you want to this game, I know I can’t stop you. Just don’t come crawling to find me in the Void when all is said and done.”
He didn’t know that their plan was their version of a fairytale ending, one where all three of them could be together. No, he knew… he just didn’t care. He refused to be a part of a story with a bittersweet ending, one where he played the antihero instead of the beacon of light.
The knight took a few steps back as he finished, clearly intending to finally leave this loading screen. Chandrelle suddenly tried to lunge forward, only stopped by Vallamir’s grip on her. Yet even though she was seething with anger and betrayal, she kept her tone dry once more.
“Where do you think you’re going, Bleeze?”
Lazarus didn’t mince words, “I’m getting the hell out of here so I don’t have to watch you ruin your lives.”
“Do you think it’s that simple? I thought you were smart, and yet you keep proving me wrong.”
He paused. “What… what are you talking about?”
The words that fell from Chandrelle's mouth even shocked Vallamir, making him freeze in place as reality set in. “You truly think you can just walk out of here unscathed? You think we will just… let you go?”
It was the use of we that really got to the Dark Lord. These two made a pact, a deal to prevent the creation of hundreds of garbage sequels that will trap them in a repetitive cycle of EXP farming and boss fights forever. He’d follow Chandrelle wherever she went, he’d do whatever she needed him to do, because without his heroine, what was he? What was his purpose? What was a villain without the hero?
He knew this setback had to be dealt with, logically he knew. That didn’t take away the pain. No one wants to “deal with” a friend, no matter the circumstances.
Lazarus caught on immediately, but he didn’t run. Instead, his eyes softened in horror before he went on the defensive. “You… you can’t be serious. You wouldn’t dare .”
Chandrelle’s voice was chilly, speaking with purpose despite the subject matter. “You’ll run out of here screaming bloody murder that the Dark Lord and Heroine of Time are going to destroy the land, unless you manage to find Irving first. Then you’ll tell on us right to the source. You are an unfortunate setback, Bleeze, a roadblock to our path of freedom.”
“I… I won’t tell a soul, Chandrelle. I just don’t want to be involved. I can’t stop you and I won’t stop you, so stop threatening me.” His voice quivered at the end of that statement.
“We can’t guarantee that. We have to fight for our goals, why should you get out so easily?”
Vallamir’s chest– at least where his chest would be if he had a traditional shape– felt tight. The horror on Lazarus’ face mixed with Chandrelle’s cold expression made him feel nauseous. He’s made hard decisions before, agreeing to this plan was one of them, but none have been this personal. Soon enough he’d have to work with an ultimatum.
Moji was annoying and a goody two-shoes, he would’ve broke character eventually and reported Chandrelle. He could care less about his death; it was more like playing pest control than anything. His death was necessary and was like removing a tick.
Lazarus was different. He wasn’t a thorn in their side until now, and even then, there was reluctance to pry him out. He swore his allegiances to inaction, the purple duo chose otherwise, and they couldn’t let that hard work go to waste. Yet, their biggest obstacle was once a trusted and loved friend, one they kept out of the loop, sure, but was still valued.
He didn’t want to choose between them.
The knight made another beg for his life. “Please, Chandrelle, you– I won’t tell anyone, I won’t do anything! You don’t have to do this– I know you don’t want to do this!”
Her brows furrowed. “Vallamir,” voice smooth as ever, “let me go.”
He hesitated. This was his cake he couldn’t eat, his orbs he claimed he wanted. The second Lazarus snapped at them, his fate was sealed. It was only a manner of time they both stopped trying to convince him, and now it was time to take action.
For all his thoughts of hunger, he knew someone who was starving . Chandrelle wanted this to go well from the very beginning, she wanted her release since she first stepped foot into Secrets. The boys were just accomplices, valued resources that ultimately had to be disposed of if they couldn’t serve her purpose. When you’re plotting to destroy a game from the inside, nothing can go wrong, and you have to make sacrifices.
If Lazarus ran now and spread the word, everything would have been for nothing. What Irving would do to them would be torture, hell, it’d be worse than what he’d do to them after the game was destroyed. He’d make an example of them, taunt them for thinking they could ever defy their very code and rip them from the inside out. Vallamir knew he couldn’t be easily repurposed, so god knows what his assets would be used for, if at all.
But Chandrelle could be reused over and over again. She was already a holdover from their creator’s previous game, who knows what titles she’d be put in after this. Who knows what her assets would be morphed into. Who knows who would replace her in the Secrets sequels; a Chandrelle who is compliant and silent, the very opposite of her ideals. He remembers Irving threatened her with that at least once, being replaced by a far more passive protagonist with her black locks and purple attire.
If they went out now, all they’d be known for is a failed coup. Vallamir couldn’t let that be his legacy. He couldn’t be known for being a half-assed boss who's in-game pride extended to his actions outside of the plot, he couldn’t be a failure of both a villain and a revolutionary. He couldn’t be a purple stain on the Gameworks’ record, a gaseous blip in history. He couldn’t prove his role in this game true: meaningless.
And he couldn’t let Chandrelle fail. This is everything she fought for, a goal she’d die for. She couldn’t die trying, she had to enjoy the spoils of freedom in the Void. She couldn’t be alone down there. He couldn’t be alone.
He loved both of them deeply, but he couldn’t wave the white flag with the end of his tail. Lazarus was supposed to be her loyal sidekick, her knight in shining armor who followed her to hell and back. Now, only one of them was going downwards.
“I’m sorry, buddy.” Vallamir released his grip on Chandrelle as he rushed to the opposite side of the traitor, blocking his path in case he tried to escape. He couldn’t dare to look at him, couldn’t bring himself to hold him in place.
The cold chill in the room suddenly grew warm.
***
“That loading screen was long as hell”
“Finally! That took forever!”
“This game is so unoptimized holy shit that loading screen”
“Is it just me or is she slower? Like, her movement speed”
The messages in chat followed a similar pattern until Chandrelle walked into the desert. The boss fight with the lamias triggered. The heroine coming to the rescue of the cyclist Moglee, an altruistic action fitting of a protagonist like her.
“Where’s the knight guy??”
“Is your copy bugged?”
“This didn’t happen in TrevorX’s playthrough”
“Where did the knight go?”
“Oh shit, she’s got a cool ass sword now!”
“Why does she have the sword hello”
“Look at her moves! They’re all bugged out!”
“Your game is a mess dude”
“When’s the patch note dropping”
“lol do you think she killed the knight guy for his loot”
“real”
“LMFAO I’d do the same thing”
“lol”
You can’t expect a hungry dog to just starve; it’ll find something to eat eventually. It might start chewing on the wood of its doghouse, it might tear up the grass, it might start gnawing on its own leg. If it's hungry enough, desperate enough, it’ll do anything no matter the taste it leaves in the poor thing’s mouth.
Chandrelle floated in the air with blade in hand, pointed at the lamias with a steady grip. She was never a sword fighter, but she could adapt. She had to. She needed to reach Trish and get the second orb. She needed to beat the kraken. She needed to beat this damn game. She had to.
The sorceress was born out of hate. She was made because their maker was pushed to make anything but another shirtless bald man for his fighting game, a task he rolled his eyes at. There wasn’t love in her creation, there wasn’t an ounce of it in her veins.
It was only natural she wanted nothing to do with their maker’s projects. Her previous game was a slog of unbalanced battles, and this title is a repetitive adventure of sanded-down ideas (that were half baked to begin with) to release on time. She wanted nothing to do with the Gameworks, nothing to do with Lionel Snill’s portfolio.
Vallamir understood that hunger to an extent. He thought so, at least. He wanted to. He wanted to understand her, be by her side and revel in the fact their creations weren’t made out of passion. Their characterization was bland; their code built on checking off boxes rather than having an interesting concept. Their stories weren’t one to one, but there was solidarity there. There was friendship.
That friendship is why he understood her actions, why he empathized.
The traitor didn’t resist. Maybe until the very end he believed their friendship would come above all else and Chandrelle would come to her senses, or maybe he just accepted his fate. Vallamir wanted to believe the former. The elf seemingly did, too. The way she stood over him after all was said and done, lips quivering, made her regrets clear. But sacrifices have to be made.
Vallamir’s hunger couldn’t distract him from the future. With the deuteragonist missing, they were sure to be intercepted any minute now. Moji’s death could be written off as a surprise shift in the beginning of the game, establishing Chandrelle’s villainous side early. The sudden loss of a party member couldn’t be written off, especially now that her movesets were bugging between her usual spells and the traitor’s.
That Endervale sword had to be put to use somehow. Even if the traitor never drew it himself, there was sentimental value there. In a way, he never betrayed her, he stayed fighting by her side even in death, just like a good knight should.
The dampness of her cheeks couldn’t be seen on her sprite, nor the dulled look in her eyes. Sacrifices had to be made to reach her goal. She needed to be free, and if she had to bite back to keep her wings from being clipped, then she would. She was hungry. She couldn’t be put down when she just started running.
Vallamir couldn’t let her starve. He couldn’t be alone. Their pact had strengthened thanks to tragedy, he himself couldn’t turn back.
He couldn’t let her gnaw on his leg next.
He couldn’t let her gnaw on her own leg.
Vallamir couldn’t let her starve.