Chapter 41: Bitter Aftermath (Part 3)

Chapter 41: Bitter Aftermath (Part 3) "Let's see..." Alan muttered, examining a map of the Eurola region. "A blimp can't take me all the way to Unus Town... So I'd have to buy a ticket to Flymouth, and then walk for a day from there. Is that correct?"

"That is correct, sir," the male NPC beside him responded. "Would you like to buy a ticket?"

"Yes, please..."

The NPC generated a system window for Alan to interact with, requesting 100 gold. There goes all my money.

"All set. Just take the nearest elevator, and you will be able to board the blimp on platform two, sir." The NPC paused to inspect Alan from head to toe. "By the way, you don't need to walk around in wet clothes. You can set them to dry."

Alan's cheeks reddened. "Oh! I didn't know that..."

"Would you like me to help you with that?"

"No, thanks. I'll figure it out myself."

"Alright, then. Have a nice day."

As the NPC walked away, Alan surveyed the empty station. Despite today's chaos, it didn't seem like people were rushing to leave this city... Perhaps most citizens have flying mounts and vehicles. He sighed. At least this place is still operational for losers like me.

His steps echoed through the vast halls of the Manafloo Station as he passed shuttered food outlets. He accessed his clothes' information in his Inventory window and selected the 'Dry' option, immediately feeling his pants and jacket lighten and warm.

My Beginner's set doesn't have this feature; this outfit must be super expensive. Thanks, Astrid.

He waited until he was inside the elevator before thumping his forehead against the automatic doors.

Oh, man, that was embarrassing!

With a soothing bell chime, the elevator announced his arrival at Platform #2, but his gaze upon the area was filled with discomfort. There, ten other Users awaited the blimp, frowning at his low number overhead. He ignored them, contemplating a bird's-eye view of the rainy city.

This is for the best. I know it.

He closed his eyes, trying to suppress the inner voices urging him to return to the Shooting Stars HQ. His imagination even conjured a scene where he embraced Astrid and declared his indifference to the fate of The Santa María. Deep down, he longed to tell Isabella II to find another fool for the job, and to confess to Isabella I that a peaceful life with Astrid outweighed the safety of the entire ship's crew.

But I'd be lying to myself...

An electronic voice announced, "Express blimp bound for Flymouth now arriving at platform two. For your safety, please stand behind the yellow line."

That's right... He chuckled ruefully as the yellow aircraft's doors opened with a beep. It doesn't matter what I want. Not until everyone is safe.

Until then...

He stepped forward absently, not noticing the high heels clicking behind him. He let other passengers board first, unaware of the mechanical beetle detaching from his clothes, falling to the floor, and combusting.

Inside, he disregarded the stares of other passengers and sought the most secluded seat available.

This is for the best, he thought, watching the relentless rain pelt the porthole.

The sound of high heels approached again. "Is this seat taken?" a woman inquired.

"No," he replied quietly, sensing the fragrance of strawberries as someone sat beside him.

Alan leaned his forehead against the porthole's glass and sighed. Everything's going to be alright. I'm sure of it. Even though I lack the resources or—wait...

Alan turned to his left to see a familiar redhead, arms crossed. "Amelia?" he asked wearily. "What are you doing here?"

"Me? I'm on a vacation. You?"

"Vacation?" He shook his head. "This blimp's heading to Flymouth... I don't think you'll—"

"Good! Just what I needed." She chuckled. "A tranquil, low-level zone. Far from the city's noise... And the annoying chatter of petulant guilders."

"You're kidding, right? Yesterday, you were celebrating with your new guild." He tilted his head. "Unless you're quitting Death Bringers too."

"I'm technically not even a member yet. There's a 48-hour restriction to join another guild, you know? So, I'm free to roam as I please." She suddenly groaned. "I'm kind of burnt out from all this guild drama, you know? A break from it all would be nice."

He narrowed his eyes at her. "But you're a max-level User. Wouldn't a vacation halt your progress?"

Amelia sighed, clearly annoyed. "Not everyone obsesses over their ranking, Ghost."

He considered this for a moment before sneering. "If this trip to Londorus has taught me anything, it's that power is everything here."

Amelia stared at him as he gazed out the porthole, the light from the Novus' sunset casting a warm glow on his melancholic face.

"What about you, Ghost?" she asked gently. "Are you leaving Shooting Stars?"

"Yes..."

"Bummer."

Alan sat in silence for a second before springing from his seat, startling her. "Wait! There's still something we need to discuss! What did you mean by 'I may have overheard your conversation with Marco'?"

"Seriously, lower your voice," she whispered, eyeing the other curious passengers. "I won't hide it, okay? So, yes, that's exactly what happened."

"But why would you do that?! Did Marco—"

"Don't even finish that sentence! I did it on my own, okay? You were acting pretty suspicious and weird yesterday, so it was natural for me to feel curious about it. Curiosity is a sign that I'm a healthy woman, you know."

"Forget what I said earlier about you being a cool gal! You're the devil incarnate!"

"Hey, you can't take that back! And maybe that's not too far from the truth..."

"Oh, for the love of everything holy!" Alan exclaimed, bending forward and clutching his hair. "How much did you hear?"

"Everything. You're looking for a 'Digital Boogeyman', right? Did I get that right?"

Alan's face flushed a deeper shade of red. He wanted to shout, to vent his frustration at this meddling woman. But then he remembered her actions just hours before.

While Marco mocked and belittled the situation, this woman stood up for me. But... seaʀᴄh thё nôvelFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

"What do you plan to do with that information?" he asked sternly, lifting his head. If she was pretending, he would catch her cracking a smile or bursting into laughter. But she looked at him expectantly.

"It depends. How critical is the situation?" She leaned in closer. "Is this spaceship really in danger?"

"What if I told you that we'd have to venture into the deepest layers of hell to complete this mission?"

"Hell? That won't be a problem." She smirked, straightening up. "You're talking to Amelia Laflamme, The Hell Princess, remember?"

"Y-Yeah..."

"So! Are we partners then?" She beamed, extending her hand to him, but he eyed it warily, half-expecting it to burst into flames.

"But why? I thought you hated me."

"Are you really rejecting the only person willing to help you in this entire world? The help of a Max-Leveler, no less!"

"I'm not alone." He looked away. "I have an ally waiting for me at the Renovatio Caves."

"Our first destination is settled, then!" she grinned, motioning to an NPC selling snacks to come over. "Do you want some candy? My treat."

This... reeks... Alan thought, narrowing his eyes at the smiling woman.

After an hour-long ride, when the blimp arrived at Flymouth, Amelia wasted no time summoning her flying mount outside the station. A massive winged tiger then glanced at Alan as if he were dinner.

"See? This is one of the many benefits of hanging out with a Max-Leveler! You won't have to walk all the way to the Renovatio Caves."

"That's cool, but hold on..."

She ignored him, engaging her User Interface.

"Sorry!" she said, picking up her pilot goggles. "I didn't ask if you wanted to tour Flymouth first. Should we grab a bite before taking off?"

"Good idea!" He beamed, turning around. "Why don't you grab something to eat while I look for a bathroom, okay? I haven't been able to go since this nightmare began! Let's meet here in... 15 minutes? Got it? Got it!"

Amelia watched his awkward departure in silence as he hurried away. She then sighed. "Charlotte?" she whispered to her pet. "This guy seems like a really comfy pillow, don't you think?"

"What?!" Alan heard loud footsteps just before the 1,000-pound cat pounced, pinning him to the ground. "Hey, let go! Come on!"

"Look! My cat caught an escaping little mouse," Amelia taunted from atop her beast. "Oh, now I see why you have that surname!"

"Cut the crap, Death Bringer!" Alan yelled. "I know that Marco or that Kathleen loli sent you!"

"I already told you that I'm not—"

"Do you want to help ME?! Don't make me laugh! After defending your dear Lord's honor the other night by killing me a bazillion times, you come here all sunshine and rainbows, admitting to spying on me as if it were no big deal, and now you suddenly want to act all altruistic?! Do you think I'm THAT stupid?!"

"Well, I wouldn't say—" She shook her head. "Oh, please, Ghost! You trusted my sister yesterday but can't trust me? I'm a Laflamme too, you know? Trustworthy gals!"

"You had to mention that brat..."

"Excuse me?"

Whoops... Don't push it too much, Alan.

"W-W-What I'm trying to say is that it's not up to me to share 'you know what' with you just yet! This is something I have to discuss with my partner at the Renovatio Caves first!"

"Fine! Have your talk with them first, whatever. But do you seriously intend to travel around 100 miles on foot? Since you're backtracking toward a low-level zone, you'll surely encounter many level 20 monsters along the way. Have you considered that?" She smirked, observing his now flustered face. "I knew it. Let me give you a ride there, then. Who knows, I might change your mind on the road."

"Do I have a choice?" he said through clenched teeth, as the tiger licked his cheek.

"You don't! Blame your own fragility!" She giggled. "Now, before we go, there are a few guidelines one must follow while flying on mounts that—"

"I know them well: Don't grope, don't puke, don't fall."

She blinked at him, curious. "It's obvious you shouldn't fall, and I'd appreciate it if you could avoid puking on my clothes or my dear Charlotte, but what's the fun in having a wingman if there can't be some 'accidental' groping while riding? Some air currents could throw you off if you don't hold—me—tight."

"HUH?!" Alan's annoyance quickly turned into bewilderment as he admired her grin.

Is this the same girl that hated my guts just two days ago?