Chapter 240: The Horny Bastard

Chapter 240: The Horny Bastard



The ring showed no pulse as if it were dead.

Its gem, which had shone a bright red, had now dissipated.

Emir approached the relic, and he reached out to touch it.

He immediately felt a connection.

'What? The program isn't on yet-'

His thoughts paused as the ring responded to his touch.

'Flaccid.'

'Not working anymore...'

'Bad stick! Bad!'

Emir quickly stepped back, escaping Ragnar's degenerate thoughts.

"Just how can someone be so horny?"

"Learn some discipline, for god sake!"

"... Is it his coping mechanism or something?"

Emir gave up on trying to figure Ragnar out and focused on the positive.

"Well, at least he's still alive."

With a scoff, he re-approached the relic, and after a moment of deep connection...

Ragnar's memories surged into his mind.

Emir flowed through them... like a voyage through the memories of another soul.

He experienced Ragnar's moments of joy and sorrow.

His triumphs and struggles.

And finally...

Emir saw the moment when his friend fell from grace.

Ragnar tried to get everything back.

But it was of no use.

He had lost.

And the only thing he could keep was his own life.

The memories suddenly disappeared, and Emir, who returned to the virtual world, had... Fallen to his knees.

His eyes began to show tears.

Sniff.

But he quickly got himself together and wiped them away.

"So 'it' is really true then..."

"No wonder."

After letting out a sigh, he approached the relic for the third time.

But he had activated the program this time around and was about to finally initiate the process.

***

I lay on my back.

'Stick no longer feels good.'

'It no longer grows.'

'Bad stick!'

A sigh escaped my lips as I flopped around, attempting to entertain myself.

'What I do? So boring...'

"Ah..."

The wind felt good on my naked body.

A bit cold, though.

I stood up and climbed further up the tree.

'Yes! Wind feels better here!'

'Cold. Too cold.'

My body rolled off the tree, and it hit the ground hard.

A few weird sounds resounded in my ears, but I didn't care about them and continued moving.

'Maybe, just maybe...'

'I might find something to get the stick hard again.'

'No, you won't.'

Suddenly, I heard a voice in my head, causing me to trip and fall to the ground.

I rubbed my chin in pain while I turned around and laid on my back again.

'... Why not?'

'Because you've run out of juice already, you exhibitionist.'

'Exhibitionist? What mean?'

'It means that you're a fucking degenerate, you dumbass.'

My brows frowned; this voice was really...

'Mean. Why so mean? You bad guy.'

'AHHHHH MY EARS!'

I quickly plugged my ear holes; the voice was too loud!

'Don't shout at me!'

'Then don't talk that way and wake up already!'

My arms dropped, they then reached my face, touching it in confusion.

'I'm awake... though?'

'Yes, you are, but your memories are not.'

'My... memories?'

'Yes, did you already forget my voice? We're brothers.'

If that transpired, then Ragnar would never obtain the chance to be their family's head.

And not only that...

Ragnar would no longer be considered a Blackwood.

It was custom for marriages between families to have the stronger one of the two be the main

name.

A branch of an Elite was not stronger than Templar's name.

Then it was obvious why such a thing was suggested.

The father had conspired against his son.

A betrayal deeper than any other.

But it got worse.

Ragnar didn't appear to care about it and silently accepted.

Even though his mother kept pushing back against it, there was nothing they could do.

The marriage went smoothly, or rather as smoothly as a crying wife and mother could be.

That man was the only calm one in the group.

His wife treated him rather harshly at the start, but soon she grew fond of him.

Or rather, of his... talents.

The man was a Warp Weaver.

A special kind of Spell Weaver... one that specialized in the space element.

She used his talents.

With the help of an Arcanist, she began to sell the items he gave her to use.

This brought her a lot of profit.

Credits that she wasted on the black market.

Those items she sold were inscribed with runes that Stabilized the spell Ragnar conjured upon

them.

Such spells had to ability to expand an item's inventory with no change to its size or

appearance.

Ragnar, the naïve kid that he was, never doubted her and kept making her new ones each time

she 'lost' the old.

This cycle repeated until the news of this illegal selling operation spread to the UEF.

They had caught wind...

And it all came crashing down.

The UEF Guard arrived to 'dismantle' the operation.

But they had already been 'misled.'

His wife had bailed out on him and thrown him under the bus.

She told them that it was his idea, that he pressured her into doing it.

But the Guard didn't need any of her barking.

This was set in stone the moment they heard the command.

"Arrest Ragnar and deprive him of everything."

There existed an obvious reason as to why the UEF sided with Templar, their fanatical enemy,

on this one issue.

A favor.

All it took for them to drown a man in the deepest of seas was a potential favor from people

they had always fought against.

Days passed, and a depressed Ragnar was finally let out of his jail cell.

He had arrived at court.

Ragnar repeatedly claimed that it was all a setup.

That they were against him.

That they were all lying.

Yet no one listened.

The lie detector was functioning 'correctly,' and only the 'truth' was spoken.

They even called his mother to the stand to testify.

And she...

She had betrayed him too.

That day...

That was the day that Ragnar snapped.

He broke.

His heart shattered.

But he somehow still held hope.

Maybe his mother was forced into it. She might've not meant what she said.

Yet as time passed his fragmented heart, which he felt was impossible to damage any longer...

Was twisted.

Stabbed.

Crushed.

And gutted from one end to the next.

Ragnar saw his mother and father together, walking side by side; their voices were filled with

happiness and laughter.

They passed by him while he sat in a dirty corner of the slums as they headed to the black

market.

That night, Ragnar had died...

And he was reborn all over again.

...An event that Emir was so familiar with.