That was better, he closed the menu.
Rogue was still staring at her like he had missed something important and was now being punished for it. "…she didn't even react to levelling."
Mirra exhaled slowly. "I don't think she reacts to anything."
"That's worse."
Little Tank opened party chat.
[Ok.]
Rogue let out a quiet, broken laugh. "Yeah, that tracks."
Then a small sound, rough and low: "…ha." It came from Little Tank. Barely audible, but wrong, way too deep, too grounded, and too large for the body it came from.
Both of them froze.
Rogue turned slowly. "…did you hear that?"
Mirra didn't answer immediately.
"…yeah."
They both looked at Little Tank.
She had already turned away, adjusting her stance slightly, as nothing had happened.
"...I think I'm hearing things," Rogue said after a moment.
Mirra nodded once. "Yeah, same."
Ellie, standing further back, frowned slightly. "Huh?"
Neither of them responded.
"...I should log off soon," the rogue muttered.
"That's probably a good idea," Mirra agreed.
"After the event tho" Rogue said.
Little Tank had already started walking or trying to lift the weight. His steps slowed. His small frame tipped forward under the weight of the materials he had decided to carry. His movement became a determined, heavily armoured waddle. Each step was deliberate. Each shift of weight was exaggerated. He looked, for lack of a better word, like an overburdened penguin with a shield.
Rogue stared, "…what am I looking at?"
Mirra pressed her lips together, very clearly trying not to laugh. "She's... committed."
"She's a tank," he said weakly.
"That's not what that means."
Little Tank continued forward, completely unbothered, the system quietly logging the strain.
[Encumbrance: Severe.]
[Stamina Adaptation Progressing.]
Good, behind him, the party slowed.
"…I'm leaving," Rogue said finally. "I can't do this again."
"Yeah." Mirra's gaze lingered on Little Tank a second longer than necessary. "Good luck."
Little Tank did not turn.
[Thanks.]
They left.
Ellie remained for a moment, her gaze fixed on that small, struggling figure making her way back toward the village. It seemed completely normal, as if none of this required commentary or concern. Her interface chimed again.
[Where are you?]
She exhaled slowly. "...right." Her eyes lingered one last time. "...okay," she murmured, quieter now. "I'll leave her now." She didn't move immediately. "...please be alright." Then she turned, and this time, she actually left.
Little Tank didn't notice. The walk back took longer, not because of the distance, but because of the weight. Each step dragged slightly. Armour shifted. Inventory pressed against invisible limits most players would have already avoided. But Little Tank pressed forward with steady determination, occasionally adjusting his grip on the shield when the balance tipped too far in one direction.
The village came into view slowly, the familiar shapes of buildings and movement settling back into place as she crossed into the safe zone without hesitation, with nothing attacking or interrupting.
Good.
Little Tank continued forward.
Spring looked up as Little Tank approached, then froze. "…oh," Spring said, "…what the fuck."
Little Tank stopped in front of the stall, looked up, opened his inventory, and started transferring items all at once.
Spring's expression shifted from polite curiosity to something much more complicated as the first batch appeared, then the second, and then the third. His hands slowed "…I asked for five onions," Spring said carefully.
Little Tank nodded.
Spring looked at the next pile.
"…and two pork."
Little Tank nodded again and pointed at the pork in the inventory.
Spring stared at the inventory on the table as it had personally offended him.
"…what do you mean you hunted boars for four hours?"
Little Tank didn't answer.
Spring leaned forward slightly "… What do you mean you gathered while doing it?"
Little Tank blinked once, then typed.
[Yes, I tanked.]
Spring went quiet.
Looked at the items, then down at her, then back at the items. "…that's not how this works," he said slowly.
Little Tank tilted his head to the side.
Spring pressed his fingers lightly against his temple, like he was trying to manually reorganize their understanding of reality "…you're level twelve."
Little Tank nodded.
"…from weeds."
She nodded again. [and boars] she typed.
Spring exhaled. "...okay... okay." He looked at her again, this time differently. "...I'm going to need a moment," Spring said quietly.
Little Tank waited. Behind her, just at the edge of the stall, the moment stretched quietly. The weight of everything on the counter was still not fully processed. Spring's hands hovered, as if touching any of it too quickly might break whatever logic Spring was trying to apply. "...you do know this is worth..." Spring started again, slower now, already sounding like Spring wasn't going to finish the sentence.
Little Tank didn't look at Spring.
Spring stopped, looked at her, then back at the pile again, something in their expression shifting from confusion into something more careful, more deliberate, like they had decided to stop trying to understand and instead start accepting. "…right," they said under their breath, and this time it sounded like a conclusion rather than a question. He began sorting, slower than before, separating items into small groups, pausing every so often as if recalculating mid-motion. His attention was no longer fully on the materials but occasionally flicked back to her, like they were trying to place her somewhere she didn't quite fit. "I'll go through this," they said quietly. "Some of this you keep. Some I take, some we talk about later."
Little Tank waited without impatience, standing there in full armour, slightly leaning forward under the weight he was still carrying, completely still in the way he always was, as if time passing didn't apply to him unless it needed to.