It's been three days since I saved Glorius's life, though the regret still lingers even now. Honestly, part of me wishes he'd just died…
Still, I have to admit, there was a thrill in it. It wasn't the act of saving him that felt good—it was the sensation of wielding that mystical power inside the quill. The rush of using something so unreal… it's addictive.
Not that I've been sitting idle all this time, either. Oh no. I'm not the type to laze around all day, even if I look like it.
I've been training. Maybe a bit too much, if that's possible. Take a look:
[Comment Ranking(Made by me, Quill)]
[1st Place — ObservantReader {{{47 Comments!}}}]
[2nd Place — Navi: {{{14 Comments}!}}]
[3rd Place — UelUel: {{{9 Comments!}}]
[4th Place — EratoChronicles: {{{8 Comments!}}}]
Not bad, if I say so myself. Ahem… Not a massive number of commenters, true, but the system flagged a bunch as spam—those promoter bots, masters of their own craft. Sure, they're relentless, but I can't work with them anyway. That is why my rankings are exclusively reserved for the truly respected readers only.
I throw my fist in the air, already celebrating like I've just achieved something legendary—even though, deep down, I know I barely did anything to earn it.
Now, you might be wondering where exactly I am.
"Quill, are you sure this place is safe?" Powder's shaky, terrified voice reaches my ears. He's perched on the edge of a cliff, staring down like he's about to faint.
How'd we end up here? Simple: I wanted to train my combat skills, maybe put on a bit of muscle so the system finally stops making fun of me.
"You'll be fine." I give Powder a gentle nudge—okay, maybe not so gentle—and off the cliff he goes. Today's special training: muscle building. And durability. Lots of durability.
"AHHHH—!" His scream echoes down, his body plummeting. He's not going to die, probably, but a few bumps and bruises are definitely on the schedule. You might ask, is this the right thing to do? Doesn't this break some kind of human rights law? Well… I've come to accept something: I'm the author of the book. So…
I grab my quill, index finger bursting into bloody mist. A wild grin tugs at my lips. My heart pounds with excitement as, right before Powder can hit the ground and turn into a human pancake, I quickly draw a small circle in the air.
"I think a slime will do…" A tiny, squishy blue slime spawns from thin air, stretching up just in time to catch Powder and cushion his fall. He still lands pretty hard—maybe the drop was a bit too much.
More experiments are needed. I jot this down in the small notebook I made the other day while testing my own skills.
Science is pain, right?
Am I a bad friend for all this? Maybe… But in the end, if things ever got too traumatic for him, I could always wipe his memory. Not that I actually would. Probably. Still, the bond between us is strong. We're like brothers—when it comes down to it, we'd die for each other.
[Powder has gained +1 Durability for surviving the fall]
[Character is slightly agitated; Trust Level toward you: -1]
[You have unlocked a new passive trait: Cruel]
[Trait: Cruel — For when "tough love" isn't tough enough. Upgrade to ignore your conscience entirely!]
I look down carefully, making sure I don't fall—this drop must be at least five hundred meters. If Powder wasn't such a musclehead, I'd never risk testing this on him…
How do I know it's safe?
Heh. Stay with me: I've been experimenting a lot lately. I wanted to see if other people had a system, too. Maybe they can't talk to theirs, but if it's just stats, maybe I could still pull it up, right?
So I tested it on Powder. While he was sleeping, I wrote above his head: {Show the character's system window}
And it actually worked.
[Name: {Powder}][Role: {Side character}][Class: {Farmer} (Sub Class Available to unlock)][Title: No Titles Yet][Combat Level: 1][EXP: 30/100]
[Stat Window:][Strength: 15 {Elite Farmer}][Defense: 20 {Above Average}][Agility: 1 {Common}][Mana: 1 {Common}][Magic: 1 {No Talent}]
[Characteristics Window:][Charisma: 54/100 {Average}][Intelligence: 39/100 {Low IQ Territory}]
[Looks: 50/100 {Not Bad for a Farmer}][Physique: 90/100 {Almost a Spartan God}][Honesty: 100/100 {Could be a flaw and a strength}][Kindness: 100/100 {A true hero, yet fated for dirt}]
That physique, paired with his defense, is more than enough for this brute to survive any test I throw at him.
Of course, he's my best friend. I wouldn't do anything truly brutal—nothing that could actually kill him.
The wind gently caresses my hair and brushes against my skin. The height is dizzying, but for some reason, I feel a rush from it. My feet keep sliding closer to the edge, despite my body trembling. Do I want to jump?
If I weren't such a coward… maybe I actually would. I step back. But something in my chest stirs, urging me forward, warning me that one day, fear could be the thing that gets me killed.
"Flock it!" I mutter, and throw myself into the crevice. Down into the abyss I go—
"SHHHIIIIT!"
I waste no time, quickly sketching another slime. Just as the ground rushes up, threatening its fatal embrace, I'm caught by something soft as a cloud and wet as the morning dew.
[Courage gained: +1]
A system window pops up in front of me as I slowly sink in. I can't breathe for a moment…
But honestly? That was fun.
"Quill!" Powder charges toward me, moving faster than the wind itself. Sometimes I wonder if that empty head of his is the reason we're even friends. He's just too damn kind. Without hesitation, he tears through the slime with his bare hands and hauls me out.
"I'm fine now, thanks…" I pat his shoulder, still catching my breath.
"What were you thinking? Trying to commit double suicide? We're lucky some slimes showed up just then—tonight, I'll have to thank the farming god for saving our skins." He exhales, finally letting go of the tension.
See… who else could make a better test subject than my best friend, Powder? And, if I'm honest, I actually appreciate how much he cares, even if I probably don't deserve it.
"What are you boys up to in my forest…?" A powerful yet strangely cute voice cuts through the air, grabbing our attention. Both of us freeze.
It can't be… our childhood bully… Roxy?!