Zeroth Moment: My Cheat Skill Is Stupid, So I'll Just Ignore It

How many times he dozed, awoke, and drifted back off, Topher didn't know; a heavy, luminescent peace seemed to flow through him as he slept, though he was occasionally conscious of Rudo murmuring something, tilting his head this way and that, or raising his chin. The thought drifted at one point through his mind that the Innkeeper could slit his throat while Topher was asleep, but no real worry manifested. He coulda killed me plenty of times by now if he wanted, Topher reassured himself, then drifted off again.

During one of his periods of wakefulness, he overheard Rudo muttering in a language he didn't know; something in it stirred him, and he roused himself slightly. "What are you gonna do after all this, anyway?" he murmured, eyes still closed. Never really got to ask how you felt about all this. Or learn anything about you at all, really."

The old Innkeeper chuckled again. "You do me a credit by assuming I would answer honestly. Have I not proven myself untrustworthy at best?" Chortling to himself, he spread something cool across Topher's scalp and kept working. "But, since you have asked -- I would build another inn. It is my calling, and I love it; my mother was an innkeeper in our world, as was my father and his father before him. Of all my brothers and sisters, only I never wished for fame or riches; the only adventures I ever sought were those between the pages of a book." His hands stilled for a moment, then resumed their motions. "My tale is depressing and overwrought; and though I apologize, I choose not to share much of it. Let us simply say that I prefer this world to our own, where child soldiers are at least fed and evil is done by those other than men at least some of the time."

Topher grunted. "Can't really argue with that." He shifted slightly. "But you do a lot for us -- for everybody -- without so much as a thank-you a lot of the time. Makes me feel bad."

"The logical conclusion," Rudo murmured, running something prickly down Topher's left temple, "is that no one is forcing you to feel bad, Mister Bailey. After all, do I not volunteer to do such things? Would it not imply, then, that the doing of such things brings me happiness?" He chuckled again. "I have met many men in my life, but never one so determined to seek misery in the face of joy as yourself."

Topher felt a crooked grin creep across his face. "Touché, I guess; but also, it's kind of a dick move to insult somebody expressing concern for you." The two of them shared a third chuckle, then lapsed back into silence; then, abruptly, Topher felt a towel sweep across his head before Rudo stepped back. "There. I believe there is a mirror within; shall we take a look?"

"Might as well," Topher groused, hauling himself to his feet and trying to shake off his sleepiness; over the balcony, the sun was setting, painting Kal'Pandu in rich hues of purple and gold. "Though I can think of better things to look at than a bald fat old man, even if he's got a new haircut."

Rudo snorted, then led Topher inside; the interior of the tower was warm and wood-paneled, with occasional stonework and a shocking amount of honest-to-God gold in many of the furnishings. "You might at least express some confidence in my craft. But why you continue to refer to yourself as 'old' and 'fat' continues to elude me."

"What the fuck are you talking about? I'm --" Topher's words died in a choked gasp as he caught sight of himself in the mirror.

The first thing he noticed was that he looked great bald; his head was a pleasing, rounded shape with none of the jutting bones or bulging protrusions he'd seen on some other men with shaven heads. Rudo had trimmed his beard down to a short, thrusting crenellation like a bold lion's mane, and trimmed his mustache almost to nothing; the result, together with Topher's glasses and permanent frown, produced a forceful and studious air that made him look decades younger. But the thing that had taken his breath away had not been his head or his face.

To his astonishment, Topher saw for the first time that he was no longer fat; his enchanted suit hugged him like a glove, revealing muscular arms and shoulders atop a broad chest which tapered down into abs -- abs! -- atop blocky but solid hips. Massive thighs bulged visibly through his enchanted slacks above sculpted calves like oak; he stared, mouth open, in abject shock and disbelief. "What the fuck. What the actual fuck. When did this happen? This kind of body modification doesn't happen in weeks. It takes years, decades..."

"You were already quite muscular when we first met," the Innkeeper commented, "but after the battle with Vashyarl some change came over you, and you have been growing more slender by the day since then. I assumed it was to do with the Stone of Sustenance, but that is only an inference." He shrugged. "I suppose this may be the first mirror you have had access to since leaving ICEBREAKERS, so your surprise is not unreasonable; but how have you not noticed the change in other ways?"

"A day at a time, I guess," Topher murmured, dazed; "The enchanted clothes adjust, so it's not like my pants started falling off or anything." Unbidden, a memory came to his mind of Kelfir helping him reattach his leg after defeating Vashyarl; the feeling of strangeness within his body, heavy and yet light, came back to him strongly. "I think I did this to myself, with that Alter Self spell I used to recover when Vashyarl cut my leg off. God damn. God damn." On a whim, he flexed, and his mouth fell open at the results this produced in his upper body. "Jesus! I look like Jason Statham, or something!"

"Good health and clean living," the older man joked, nodding. "Perhaps you could sell training regimens? Take older men into the Lava Mountains for a two-week camp?"

Topher snorted. "Why don't you do it for me? You're the one with Minor Deception." Turning uncomfortably away from the mirror, he rubbed his head experimentally; it was smooth and cool, but the sensation was curiously numbed when he touched it, as if he was wearing a hat. "Thanks. I really appreciate it."

Rudo bowed. "It was my pleasure, as hackneyed as such a phrase may be. And, as you may suspect, I have an ulterior motive." He turned away from Topher, facing the balcony and squinting against the glare of the setting sun. "We are not out of danger yet, whatever our surroundings may indicate. The time for others to underestimate us has passed; now we must demonstrate our worth and contribute both our strength and our wisdom to those in power if we are to have any chance of survival."

Topher's blood quickened. "You think we'll have to do more. You think we have to be in charge in some way?" A cold chill crawled up his spine, settling like a cat atop his bald skull. "Fuck that. I'm not doing any of that kind of shit."

"Your wishes are not likely to be respected in this regard," Rudo murmured, turning back to face him. "Intentionally or not, you are a critical part of this conflict by this point; circumstances will soon thrust us into the limelight regardless of whether we desire it, and it is best if that attention is focused on some of us rather than all of us." He pointed at Topher, grinning from ear to ear. "Hana is even now giving similar treatment to Zanasha. Thus attired and appointed, you and Miss Jones will command their attention; Miss Shirakane and I will thus be free to take other actions while others are thus distracted. You will experience discomfort, I do not doubt; but I also have confidence you will serve your purpose well." He bowed mockingly. "You are the highest-Level Otherworlder now, after all."

"I am? I thought you still had a couple of Levels on me?" Topher summoned his Status, then got a third shock almost as nasty as the first two. Oh. I guess I hadn't checked this since the battle. "Well, shit."

Name:

Christopher Bailey

Level:

99

Class:

Clerk

HP:

299/299

MP:

397/448

SP:

99/99

Strength:

Rank C

Dexterity:

Rank F

Constitution:

Rank C

Intelligence:

Rank D

Wisdom:

Rank D

Charisma:

Rank F

Skills:

Literacy (Rank D)

Mathematics (Rank B)

Cooking (Rank F)

Customer Service (Rank D)

Data Entry and Filing (Rank B)

Packaging and Shipping (Rank D)

Home Appliance Repair (Rank F)

Pen Spinning (Rank A)

[Disease Resistance (Rank C)]

[Poison Resistance (Rank C)]

[Obscure Location (Rank C)]

[Nondetection (Rank C)]

Special Skills:

Disrupt Illusion

Conjure Shield (Rank C)

Conjure Light (Rank C)

Improved Status

Summon Ledger

Remove Fatigue (Rank D)

Minor Sorcery (Rank C)

Summon Stylus

Sanctuary (Rank F)

Detect Status

Metaphrasty (Rank D)

Encrypt Document

Authenticate Document

Duplicate Document

Validate Document

Restore Document

Locate Document

[Pass Without Trace (Rank C)]

[Elemental Resistance (Rank C)]

[Damage Resistance (Rank C)]

[Status Resistance (Rank C)]

[Improved Mana (Rank D)]

Unique Skill:

Attract Object

Later, Topher found himself on the bed of a room, somewhere in the Golden Tower; he had a vague memory of saying goodnight to Rudo and wandering off in a daze, but his brain refused to divulge anything else of whatever time had passed since he'd opened his Status for the first time since the battle. He felt numb and hollowed out; he kept trying to get ready for bed, or even lie down to sleep, but his body simply refused to do anything other than sit and stare into space.

Shock, he thought to himself, numbly. Gotta be some kind of shock or something. But knowing the cause of his malady didn't help him break out of it; he'd simply had too many destabilizations of his self-concept at once, and he kept struggling with the idea that he didn't really know himself anymore at all. He might have sat there forever, staring stupidly at nothing at all, if a sharp knock hadn't sounded at the door.

Disjointedly, Topher jerked; his hands twitched, and his head snapped up and looked around at nothing for no reason. Finally, after a minute, he was able to make sense of things enough to mutter "Come in," and stand up from the bed. Maybe some kind of attendant, or something. Not sure if there's any --

The door opened, and Zanasha stepped inside. Topher's brain, already barely functioning, performed the neurocognitive equivalent of throwing a rod.

She was wearing a long, sheer azure dress of some twinkling, supple material that draped from her shoulders to her ankles; her long red hair had been washed and styled to within an inch of its life, shimmering with rich silkiness and curled expertly to fall down into the hollow of her muscular neck. Her rock-solid arms and shoulders were bare, and her thick chest was straining the fabric atop a subtle brassiere that looked like it was holding back a veritable avalanche of womanhood. Her eyelashes and lips had been delicately painted, and earrings bearing tiny sapphire gemstones sparkled in each earlobe. Tip-toeing into the room, she shut the door behind her and stared at the floor while her hands twisted the hem of her dress nervously. "Friend Topher; Hana-chan has... requested that I seek your appraisal. W-will this outfit be suitable for court appearances?"

Topher stood there, stock-still; breathe, came the dryly amused directive of his distant consciousness. After a moment, he managed to suck in a breath and nodded jerkily. "Uh... yeah. Oh, definitely." His knees buckled without any input from his brain, and he sat on the bed heavily. His mouth hung open in astonishment, which was unfortunate, because it meant that the next thing that entered his mind shot right out of it without any intent on his part. "God, you're beautiful."

The instant he realized what he'd said, he clamped his mouth shut and winced; but Zanasha merely blushed furiously and ducked her head. "You are too kind. Hana-chan's skill with such things is to credit; I am too big, too plain. I am..." she ran down after a moment, then stood there, looking almost as awkward as Topher felt.

Then, to his astonishment, she came closer; sat on the bed next to him and stared along with him towards the door. "She told me of what you spoke, in the cavern. It pains me that I cannot assuage her suffering."

Topher's brain rebooted; he coughed, cleared his throat, and sighed. "Me too. But it doesn't diminish her feelings just because I don't return them. She's a good kid." He was silent for a moment, then continued. "A really, really good kid. And I think a lot of the credit for that goes to you."

Zanasha mumbled something noncommittal in reply; Topher let it pass him by and simply stared at the door together with her. A warm, soft bubble of happiness rose up in him, making him feel like he was floating; I could do this forever. Just sit with you, even if nothing ever happened between us. His heart ached, but he kept his traitor tongue silent; the half-lies he'd told her filled the space between them, infinite and irrecoverable. I'm in love with someone else, and always will be.

"Friend Topher," she said, after a long silence, "what is she like?"

"Huh?" Topher snapped out of his reverie. "She? She who?"

"The woman." He looked over to see that Zanasha's eyes were lowered, staring at the floor. "The woman you love."

Ah, fuck. Topher sighed and looked up at the ceiling, so he wouldn't have to do this to her face. "How do I even answer that?"

"Is she pretty?" Zanasha pressed. "She must be, if you prefer her to Hana-chan."

Topher chuckled. "That doesn't matter so much. But... yes." He closed his eyes. "She's very beautiful, though she doesn't see it."

"Have you known her long?" Zanasha's soft voice flowed over him like a breeze; he smiled a little, despite himself.

"Oh, I don't know." His grin widened at the irony of it all. "Sometimes it seems like forever, but I don't know if anyone else would say it was a long time. She probably doesn't think of me much, though." As he said the words, though, a slow discomfiture began to grow in him; wait. Why am I even saying that? For her to be even asking this question...

It was late; it was slow. But, by tortuous degrees, it penetrated Topher's brain that he might be being monumentally stupid. One by one, he threw all his old excuses at it -- I'm old, I'm fat, I'm bald, I'm ugly -- but the evidence Rudo had shown him kept coming back to him, and his tactics of self-defeat seemed weak and feeble against it. Holy shit. Holy shit, do I really have a shot with this girl?

Cautiously, tentatively, he kept going. "She's, uh... she's really strong. And brave, too. Even when she doesn't believe in herself, she doesn't give up." He tried to keep his eyes on the ceiling, but something was dragging them down; he found himself looking sideways at her, and discovering she was looking back at him. "She's gentle, even when she has every reason to be rough. She's been through so much, but she forgives and treats others with kindness, even though no one would blame her for... uh, not doing that." His vocabulary was crumbling; her golden eyes seemed to absorb him, and he realized he was leaning closer to her. Astonishingly, his hand inched forward, touching hers. "She's everything I ever dreamed of."

Zanasha's eyes flew downwards to his hand, then back upwards to hold his gaze; he could feel both their pulses, pounding in unison. "Topher..." she breathed, blinking rapidly.

I'm old. But not that old, I guess.

"It would probably be a mistake," Topher continued slowly, "to tell her how I feel right now."

I'm still bald, but I guess I can't say I'm fat anymore.

"Like I said..." -- his fingers covered hers a little more -- "...neither of us can really afford distractions."

I'm still ugly, but not as ugly as I thought. And maybe I'm not the best judge of my own attractiveness, F-Rank Charisma or not.

"But..." -- it dawned on him that their faces were less than a foot apart now, and he was almost definitely going to kiss her -- "...I make a lot of mistakes. Par for the course for an F-Ranker, I guess." He smiled, and for the first time in living memory, there was no pain in it at all. "You think I should make one more?"

Her lips parted; a breath came out, but no words. Then, like a prayer, she closed her eyes and simply nodded.

Topher kissed her.

It was like light, blooming in the unlit corners of his heart; her right hand came up, touching his face gently, and he laced the fingers of his right hand together with her left where they had touched on the bed. It was a long kiss -- chaste, but full of restrained passion and longing -- and both of them quite lost track of time for a while.

Then, eternity came to a close; they parted for breath, and Zanasha's eyes opened and gazed deeply into his own. "Hana-chan said that the dress would work," she murmured, a smirk on her lips.

Topher laughed lightly and shook his head; he felt like he was about to float off the ground. "The dress is nice," he admitted, "but I loved you from the first moment I saw you, dented platemail and all." He stroked the scar down the left side of her face lovingly. "Especially this. I hope you don't hate me for that."

She laid her hand atop his, blushing and looking down; but the smile on her lips broadened, and two tears trickled down from the edges of her eyelids. "Why?" She asked, simply.

Topher kissed her again, then laid his forehead against her own. "Because anybody who's scarred knows what it's like to hurt." He tried to say more, but she kissed him back, and he lost track of time again; when he resurfaced, somehow, they were lying down on the bed together. "We'll ruin your dress," he murmured, mock-reprovingly.

"Hana-chan said it was expected." She stroked the side of his face again; ran her fingertips down his chin. "I like your beard," she said, very shyly; the smile that kept playing over her lips was a quick, darting thing, surfacing and submerging again with each moment.

"I like your everything." Topher kissed her forehead, then settled down; he found that he was quite content simply to lie beside her, looking into her eyes. "But I don't know what we do now."

She nodded; he could see the fear, the expectation of pain, and the iron-hard bravery that lay beneath them both. "Nor I." She paused, hesitant; then it came out of her in a rush. "I have never loved before."

Topher laid his hand along her face; she closed her eyes and sighed. "Me, neither," he murmured. "So let's take it slow."

She nodded; her arms came up, wrapping around him and gently pulling him close, and he allowed himself to be captured. "You rested my head on your lap," he murmured into her ear, "when we escaped the dungeon in Wanbourne. I could have died happy."

She hitched in a breath; choked. Then, all of a sudden, the floodgates opened.

She held him in her arms, nestled against her collarbone, and wept; Topher, too, wrapped his free arm around her waist and let the tears silently leak from his closed eyes into the fabric of her dress. Like a dammed-up river, the feelings they had both been holding back -- thick and heavy and painful -- poured out of them as they finally, once and for all, let go.

Long into the night, they lay and talked and gazed upon one another with light kisses and tentative caresses; every hour or so, one of them would make some excuse about leaving, and the other would playfully pull them back into the bed. Then, at last, drowsiness overcame them both; and, with a murmured Mage Hand spell, Topher pulled the covers over them both, fully clothed, and closed his eyes.

Zanasha nestled against him and murmured sleepily, warm and solid; for an instant, he felt as though he were perfectly content. And then, before doubt or fear could creep back in, he drifted off to sleep.