In the blink of an eye, Calca returned to that world where only night seemed to exist.
Brilliant Angel Cat-Meow was in the same position as before, his back to her, softly humming his unique little tune. In the stillness, he looked strangely lonely.
Calca looked down. The void beneath her feet still resembled a pitch-black abyss, but she wasn't as afraid this time. She took a bold step forward and walked easily until she stood directly in front of him. Crouching down, she watched the unresponsive figure for a moment before tentatively reaching out her hand toward his chest.
the moment her hand touched the light, Calca felt as if she'd hopped into a Time Tunnel with Doraemon. The world became a kaleidoscope of colors, and she felt her body being stretched out like a noodle—it was a deeply unpleasant sensation. She instinctively wanted to drop to her knees and retch, but when her hands touched the "floor," she realized something was wrong.
The decor of this floor... it was incredibly luxurious. It wasn't her bedroom. She thought she had been kicked out of the vision, but it seemed she had been transported somewhere else entirely.
"Yikes, that sensation really never gets better, does it?"
A man's voice, clear and refreshing as spring water, suddenly rang out behind her.
Crap! Calca's hair stood on end. Ignoring her nausea, she forced herself to spin around and scramble to her feet. A flurry of questions raced through her mind: Who is he? Brilliant Angel Cat-Meow? Why did he bring me here? Can I use the fact that I'm the only one who can contact him as leverage to stay alive?
Even though the player was supposedly a "good guy," Calca had to prepare for the worst. However, his next sentence made her freeze mid-motion.
"Why are there no cute kitties in this world?"
The "spring water" voice turned into a dismal groan, followed by a repetitive, pathetic wail. "No kitties... no kitties... no kitties... I'm gonna die!"
The blue-haired youth was sitting in front of a piece of furniture that looked like a vanity. As he spoke, he scooped up a small, grey-tabby kitten from his lap, buried his entire face in its fur, and took a deep, aggressive huff. The kitten, startled by the sudden assault, let out a dainty "meow" that echoed through the room. Watching his deep breathing, Calca instinctively leaned her own head back in sympathy.
He's a nutcase. And isn't there a cat right in your hands? Looking at the size and markings, she guessed it was an American Shorthair.
Uncertain, Calca watched his back for a moment before creeping to the side to get a look at the cat's face, only to discover something terrifying. The face of the blue-haired youth reflected in the oval mirror was blurred out, like a low-resolution mosaic. When she jerked her gaze from the mirror to the person himself, she realized the kitten's face was pixelated as well.
A cold sweat broke out down Calca's back. She felt like she had wandered into a psychological horror film. Forced into a state of hyper-calm, she scanned her surroundings and realized the environment was bizarre. Some spots were crystal clear, while others were hazy and indistinct.
It's like a dream. Am I... inside his memories?
The thought had barely formed when the player's actions confirmed it. Apparently having recharged his "mana" by huffing the cat, he looked energized. He set the kitten on the vanity, and the creature immediately leaped away and bolted.
The youth stood up and walked toward Calca. He moved so fast she didn't have time to react; they simply passed through each other like ghosts. He didn't pull a "horror movie jump scare" by stopping and saying, "Hey, look, I found a little mouse who snuck in." He simply walked in a straight line toward the other side of the room.
As he moved, the scene began to shift. Calca's current location grew blurry; everything in this memory seemed to center around the player. She didn't know what would happen if she stayed behind in the blur, but she knew that if she followed him, she might learn something vital.
She hurried to catch up. Walking beside him felt like experiencing a "life flashing before your eyes" montage. Scenes flickered by: different rooms, different people. She even caught a glimpse of a being that looked remarkably like Ainz Ooal Gown. Interestingly, the skeleton's face wasn't blurred—perhaps because it was just a skull?
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My : https://[email protected]/AuAuMon
I'm not the Queen Greatsword. (41 Chapters, Ongoing)
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Calca shook her head, puzzled. She could guess the identity, though. One of the Six Great Gods had been an undead player. Was his name... Surshana? It didn't sound like a name a gamer would pick.
The images continued to flash until they settled on a training room filled with weapons. Calca looked around. Suits of armor, greatswords, hand-and-a-half swords, and massive shields were lined up neatly. Even though the image was a bit fuzzy, she could tell this place was constructed in haste. If the previous room had been a luxurious product of a magical world, this training room reeked of medieval pragmatism and raw reality.
Calca looked up. Brilliant Angel Cat-Meow was holding a small notebook, muttering to himself. "To be a qualified vanguard, first you need... to be proficient with armor and defenses?"
He scratched his head, looking at the plate armor on the stands, then looked back down at his notes. "Only then will you avoid being weighed down by the armor in battle, leading to slow movement? Will it... will it really be slow? Probably?"
He looked skeptical, but for some reason, he chose to trust the notebook. He shoved it into a pocket of "inventory" space—exactly like Ainz did in the anime—and approached a suit of full plate armor to try and put it on. Calca watched with genuine curiosity. If armor were that easy to put on, knights wouldn't have needed squires. Then again, maybe a Level 100 player had a trick?
The trick was: there was no trick.
Calca watched as he tried to put on the armored boots. He lost his balance, ended up hopping on one foot, and went careening into a wall. THUD. High-level player stats were real, though; he didn't get hurt, but his head punched a clean hole right through the masonry. He scrambled to pull his head out, and even through the blur, she could sense his utter embarrassment. His hair was a bird's nest.
A sound like a honking goose—her own stifled laughter—erupted in the room. After a few more clumsy attempts, the player seemed to trigger a "passive trait" or a "skill." Suddenly, his movements became fluid. He strapped on the rest of the plate armor with professional efficiency. Calca's eyes lit up. Did he find a shortcut? Is it a player feature?
Then he began to train. At first, his movements were awkward; his immense physical strength was actually warping the metal plates as he moved. But soon, he became terrifyingly proficient.
Calca watched him go from a novice to a master. Just as he reached for a shield two-thirds his height and a heavy greatsword, an invisible force shoved her back. When she regained her senses, she was back in her private chapel.
The candles were still burning, and the statue was unmoved. Aside from the candles being slightly shorter, nothing had changed. However, her head felt heavy and swollen. Techniques for fighting in heavy armor were manifesting in her mind. It took several minutes for her to process the influx of data.
Holy crap, "Big Bro" is the real deal! He didn't give her another free daily spell, but he gave her knowledge. He was like a divine vending machine! I need to buy him some better incense later.
Calca massaged her temples as she walked toward the door. Suddenly, she stopped. In the corner of the room stood a suit of decorative plate armor. Though it was far too big for her, the moment she saw it, knowledge flooded her brain: the thickness of the plates, the optimal defensive angles, the gaps at the joints. It was incredible. A question naturally surfaced in her mind:
How do I put it on?
In that instant, an answer flashed into her mind like a lightning bolt of pure intuition.
Wait, what? Calca stood there, bewildered. What did the answer mean by "Just do a 'Whoosh'"?
Then, a mental image appeared: the blue-haired silhouette doing a quick spin, and Whoosh—a suit of silver-white plate armor was suddenly equipped on his body. It was the top-tier gear he wore as a max-level player.
Calca went dead silent. Hold on. I don't have legendary-tier equipment that auto-equips.
Then the realization hit her. Big Bro... did you literally never learn how to put on armor normally? Did you just rely on your "Quick-Change" equipment slots for your entire life?!
Calca smacked her forehead, a mix of admiration and soul-crushing envy washing over her. Damn it, I want that feature too!