Chapter Eleven

A knife, 8 days of provisions, the quilt, and a brown bag barely held together with loose twine. For the average adventurer, these supplies would have been less than a joke, they would have been insulting.

Even Aster was slightly worried that they wouldn't hold up, but he wouldn't ever consider asking for more.

They were provided by Shevron himself. No one but him had pitched in, so Aster was happy to take whatever he could get.

Aster looked back at the town. No walls, no landmarks, just a small blip on a desert of flat tundra. He wondered if he would even be able to find his way back.

There was no use in wondering, he kept on walking with the quilt wrapped protectively around himself.

The tundra was cold, but that didn't surprise him. It was cold, but not unbearable. At least for now. Aster walked with the sun directly overhead.

What did surprise him was how quiet the land was. Dead, abandoned. Aster walked for hours, eyes taking in the lifeless tundra. Frozen dirt. Yellowing dead plants. Gusts of freezing wind and absolutely nothing in the distance.

His mind replayed the events of the days prior. He thought about the other adventurers who had set off from Harboridge. How many cities had they pillaged? How far behind was Aster falling? The thoughts didn't sit well with him.

But in time, even those thoughts faded and his mind went quiet as he walked.

Dead dirt. Dead plants. Bones of long-dead animals. Wisps of snow. 

Dead dirt. Dead plants. Dead dirt. Dead plants. Dead dirt. 

Dead dirt. Dead dirt. Dead dirt. Dead dirt. Dead dirt. Dead dirt. Dead dirt. Dead dirt. 

How can a fantasy world possibly be this boring?

He couldn't believe it. He was so bored. Unbelievably bored. Impossibly bored. This wasn't even a full day of walking yet. 

What do adventurers even do while they travel?

-

Isabella Wright stared at Alexander Sutherland's phone with glassy eyes. On it, her son walked silently through an unfamiliar land, unreachable to her.

Alexander's mouth droned on about the implications of the debt that her son had created, about the powerful people whose toes he had stepped on, and the legal precedents.

"There is even a possibility that your family could be a target-" He continued to drone along monotonously.

"But he will be okay, right?" Isabella cut him off with a raspy voice, looking up at the man for the first time since he had turned on the livestream.

"Well, other than the numerous threats that come along with living in a fantasy world, yes."

"Then it will be okay." She smiled and looked back down towards the stream.

Alexander wondered how she could watch such a boring stream, even if it was her son. The boy had been walking in silence for hours. 

He didn't want to say it aloud, but he wasn't confident that the boy would even survive the week. Not only did Aster not have a lick of combat experience, but it was glaringly obvious that he didn't know the first thing about death games.

During periods of downtime, many players would monologue, trying to keep the people watching engaged and giving meaningful context for their adventure. At the very least, traveling was the perfect time to sharpen skills and learn new ones.

He looked back down at the screen.

Aster was still walking in silence.

Alexander sighed, "Even if you believe in him, you should start making plans for the worst case. While he is alive, your family has certain protections, but once he-"

"Don't say it." Isabella snapped at him.

"Alright. Alright. You don't have a phone, do you?" Alexander said as he shouldered on his heavy coat. "Keep that one for now, my number is on it if you need to contact me."

He walked towards the door, hesitating before stepping out.

"You really should make some sort of plan for if things don't work out."

"Thanks, Alexander."

She didn't look up as the door closed. She really did appreciate what the man was trying to do for them, but to her, there was no reason to worry.

In every one of their family's hardest moments, Aster had pulled through for them. Even when it broke him, he didn't hesitate. Not once did Aster put himself above his family. 

For the price of Aster's health, Aster's happiness... Shouldering this burden, it wasn't even a question.

Isabella smiled down at the screen.

-

Garrus stared at the TV with a smoldering fury.

"I can't believe this incompetent guy is the one who took your place," said a young girl from beside him. "Personally, I would never let that happen to me-"

"Shut up, Erica." Garrus grunted out.

"Oh? Did that hurt? I'm sorry dear brother, I just was giving some advice to-" she said in a mocking tone, a devious smile plastered on her face.

"Don't make me say it again." He looked over her with a scowl.

She stared back at him with a taunting look.

Erica was a head shorter than Garrus, with straight black hair that reached down past her shoulders. Her eyes burned a fiery red and her lips formed a smug smile. There was nothing she loved more than taunting Garrus. 

"I don't listen to the instructions of looooooosers." Erica laughed.

Garrus instantly swung is free hand towards her face, palm outstretched. Erica dodged it easily.

He swung again but continued to miss as his sister easily avoided his attacks.

"Do you really think I would get hit by the hand of a loser? Get real," she snickered at him.

Without hesitation, Garrus dove at Erica, trying to grapple her to the ground. He finally found his target, knocking her onto her back-

"GARRUS! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?" A deep voice boomed from just a few feet away.

"Bro was trying to attack me, all I did was try to comfort him and he got so mad that he tried to beat me up." Erica said between sniffles, not missing a beat as she became a different person entirely.

Garrus stood up from his brawl with Erica, "What? No. This bitch was-"

Pain tore through Garrus's cheek as he was knocked backward by a swift slap.

Garrus's father loomed above him, standing tall and wide with a black suit and disapproving eyes.

He looked up at his father. His father looked down at him.

"Never call your sister that again. You have 10 seconds to get out of my sight, Garrus."

"No, you don't understand, Sir, she-" he tried to desperately interject.

"I don't care. Get out. Now." His voice thundered.

Garrus's blood ran cold. His sister smiled at him with a devilish grin. He had no recourse.

-

Garrus slammed the door to his room behind him. Across his bedroom, a smaller screen continued to play the livestream of Aer's walking.

He approached the TV and watched for a moment in furious silence.

This... All of this is because of him.

Garrus's rage boiled over as he suddenly punched the wall beside it, easily demolishing the white drywall.

"I'll kill him. I will definitely kill him. I'll kill him and then I will reclaim my name and my honor. It's just a matter of time."

Garrus continued to watch the stream late into the night.

-

Two voices chatted quietly in a darkened house.

"I don't get it, why would you do that?" The first voiced asked.

"What do you mean?" A familiar voice responded.

"You know, send him out into the tundra, everyone knows that's nothing more than a death march."

For a moment, the house was silent. The familiar voice pondered an answer.

"He at least tried to help. I don't think that absolves him, but was it really necessary to-"

"Aren't you mad?" The familiar voice interrupted.

"Well of course I am, but that doesn't mean we should-"

The familiar voice interrupted once again. 

"No. Not mad at the adventurers. Aren't you angry with the world? The gods? The oracles?"

The first voice was silent.

"We were told they were coming to help. We were told they were coming to save us. All of the things we have done, all of the gifts we have been given were ultimately for their sake. And yet, here they are, in all their glory. Isn't it ironic? Doesn't it make you mad?"

"I understand what your saying, but it still doesn't make sense. If you hate them so much, why did you give him supplies, why not just kick him out with the rest of them? Why not just kill him directly? What is with all of the theatrics?"

Silence descended upon the two for a long time.

"It's not about killing him. He wanted to help, he can help. But first he has to understand our anger, our betrayal."

"Shevron..." The first voice exhaled. They went to say more, but stopped themselves. They didn't have the right to say anything. No one in the town did. Anger was one of the few things they had left.