Never Really Alone

It still hasn’t really settled in that I promised to eventually face my destiny, even if the showdown with the Demon Lord could be years and years away from actually happening. Luxy wouldn’t confirm or deny anything specific about how bad the situation actually is, saying things were terrible, yes, but that I could also continue my leisurely, feel-good, day-to-day escapades with the girls.

I’m not sure what to believe.

So many thoughts are running through my head to the point where it’s making thinking itself feel like a painful and mountainous chore. All I know is I have to finally tell the women in my life everything I haven’t been entirely honest about. I’m not sure how Sam will react, or Meri, for that matter. Both girls are very touchy when it comes to the Demon Lord, and I hope they’ll be able to forgive me for keeping this secret for so long.

To be fair, it’s not like I was able to confirm my grandpa’s statement until today, but still...

Sam will probably get pumped up, but Meri is only starting to bloom out of her shell. There’s no way of knowing how long her newly-acquired bravery might last once she knows I plan on aiming at the greatest of evils...

As for dear, devoted, Zutiria, she’ll support any decision I make, I’m sure. That just leaves my oldest supporter, and I frankly don’t know how Opalina will react. Even though she looked after me since I was ten, I never told her about my grandpa’s presumptuous ideas for my career path. I’m afraid she’ll be disappointed in me for lying to her all these years... or even worse, Opal could get mad that I didn’t tell her sooner...

Well, If nothing else, at least I can fuck better now. Glad I have my priorities straight.

After exiting my office, I leave a brief note on a table in the entrance hall where everyone can see it. I tell the girls that the meeting went rough, and I’ll be resting in the bedroom for most of the day, and they should head over to Helpful Heals if they want to be fed. I need a full-on break day, and that includes cooking.

Once sheltered in the sanctity of my bedroom, I strip down and change into nothing but my pajama pants. I darken the room as much as I can before taking my glasses off, replacing them as quickly as can be with my sleep mask. Now that the stage is appropriately set for a peaceful rest, I slip under my covers to be alone with my thoughts.

Well... perhaps not alone, per se.

I’m still not thrilled knowing that the bratty Goddess can listen in on my innermost thoughts. She could be observing me this very second. Is it possible for me to ever be truly alone, short of asking Luxy to respect my boundaries? I’d ask right now, but I’m not in the mood to deal with her any longer.

It’s not even that Luxy was that annoying.

Difficult, yes, but I still kept my ground and got everything I wanted out of that meeting. I can deal with difficult people if I absolutely have to. It’s just that as of right now, my head is pounding and swirling, overwhelmed by the maelstrom of inevitability. Talking to her again so soon would remind me that my girls will have to battle the current Demon Lord and his army of darkness one day.

They could get hurt because of me... hells, they could ultimately wind up dead just because they were unlucky enough to be picked by Luxy to join my side. My views on the consent behind my relationships have been comforted since talking to the Goddess, but this is an entirely new ethical issue. I can’t force a girl to do battle against the forces of villainy if she doesn’t agree to it... but maybe Luxy has considered that, too... for all I know, that ‘app’ of hers sorts them out to make sure every girl is up for that sort of thing.

Still, even if they agree to fight the Demon Lord, my adventurers could die and be taken away from me long before that. We’ve had close calls in the past, including one just the day before when they fought the Greater Murdermoth, but this depressing fact seems more real than ever before.

I’m a Guild Master. Seeing adventurers come and go should just be something I’m accustomed to, but because of my limited experiences actually working with adventurers, I can’t say anyone has ever died on a quest that I sent them on.

Still, it could happen at any moment, which is what terrifies me. How can I possibly hope to cope with something that’s such a fundamental part of my job description? It might be naive of me, but after thinking about it for some time here in the darkness of my bedroom, I come to the conclusion that the only way forward is to reject reality and substitute my own. Instead of accepting that the quests I send the girls on could result in their untimely end, I can steel myself and work endlessly in order to ensure this never happens.

I’ll force myself to become a Guild Master unlike any other- a Guild Master so wise and experienced that he’s able to lead his adventurers home safely every single time.

I’ve failed too many times for one lifetime, so I swear right here and now that I won’t ever fail Sam, Zutiria, Meri, or anyone else who puts their hopes in me ever again. I might be depressed, but this isn’t like when Perlshaw was built, and I fell into a downward spiral. I’m not alone anymore, and truthfully, I never was. I just needed to learn how to pull myself up and keep walking down the road that leads to me getting everything I’ve ever wanted.

How can I make certain I become this sort of legendary Guild Master, though? I’ll need to study more. That’s a given, but studying alone won’t be enough to reach the heights which I aspire to.

I guess, all in all, it comes down to my desire to help the girls from afar, doesn’t it? I really need to find an answer to that, as if I could find a way to create a system that would allow me to remotely lead quests and provide real-time advice, feedback, and strategies, I feel I could dramatically increase the odds of any quest I give out.

It’s a shame Luxy wouldn’t elaborate further when it comes to my eyes. She made it sound like there’s a lot more to them than I’m aware of, and the way she phrased it was suspect. Everything I’ve been praying for, huh? That’s an awful big promise to live up to. If it couldn’t just... no, maybe if it... ugh... Gods, my head is starting to bang again the harder I think about this...

I just want to figure things out, but the more I try, the harder my thoughts spin out of control. Maybe I should’ve brought another drink with me because thinking certainly isn’t getting me anywhere...

All of a sudden, I hear a familiar sound pass by overhead- the flapping of wings and the cooing of a dove. I reach over to where I left my glasses and switch them out with my sleep mask to find that Luxy’s faithful servant is standing atop the bedside table along with an obvious gift. The heavenly bird rests on top of a wooden tankard filled with another wonderful-smelling dry Dwarven stout. Guilt hits me hard as I admit that there might be worse things than the Goddess of Light keeping an eye on your thoughts.

I take my time swallowing down the dark brew, savoring the flavor, and letting its bitterness wash away my incessantly churning mind. The further I get down the tankard, the more the alcohol does its job by allowing me a brief respite from myself. I used to drink a lot heavier during my depression, but now that I have a lot more to live for, I just don’t see the need to race to the bottom any longer.

“Thank you, and I’m sorry,” I tell the dove while placing the tankard onto the bedside table. The bird is pretty cute when it isn’t shitting on purpose to piss me off, I’ll admit. When I blink, both it and the tankard are gone without so much as a trace.

I’ve got a decent buzz going on now, and I think I’ll actually be able to get a nap in if I try. I reach for my sleep mask to test this theory out but find fate has other plans for me. The door to my bedroom opens up, and I see a familiar face standing at the entrance.

“Fuckin’ yikes, Lad. Th’ darkest pits’a the Obsidian Abyss ain’t got nothin’ on this shitehole.” Gwin says as she steps forward, her tough, Dwarven boots stomping down hard and heavy on the wooden floor. As she gets closer, she turns her nose up in the air and sniffs. “Ah don’ see no glass, but ya been drinkin’ in bed like me da’ when ‘is favorite Elven brothel’s closed for disinfectin’. Good taste tho’, Lad. By the smell’a things, it seems like yer hidin’ some dry Dwarven stouts from ol’ Gwinnie?”