— (2) Common Rolls Used —
277. Desperate Defense Doctrine Branch Guidebooks (Modified Hearts of Iron IV)
136. Random Colored Bed (Modified Minecraft)
Unknown Amount of Time Later...
Deep within the still, humid depths of the Lush Caves, Azalea's body remained motionless, lying on her side atop the soft, mossy grass. Her scythe Grovetender rested just inches away, its azalea-wood handle cold against the stone floor. Time passed in silence, save for the distant dripping of water from nearby dripstones and the occasional flutter of bat wings overhead.
Then, the gentle movement broke the quietness.
Her body gave a faint twitch. Her form shifted slightly, as though something small had stirred her back to life. It wasn't a sound that woke her, nor some arcane pulse but rather, a curious axolotl from a nearby underground pond. The small, pale creature of pink and gentle-eyed slowly crawled out of the water and wandered over, drawn to her long green hair that fanned across the grass like soft vines.
The axolotl playfully nosed its way into the strands, weaving slightly through them. Its little body pressed close with affectionate innocence.
And with that, Azalea stirred once more.
Her eyelids twitched.
Her body shifted again more sharply this time. A groan escaped her lips as she exhaled, slowly dragging herself upright with sleepy, sluggish motions. She sat up, her posture unsteady, blinking several times as she tried to gather herself.
"Hhh—" she yawned instinctively, stretching slightly as her fingers rubbed her drowsy, unfocused eyes. The cavern still spun somewhat around her.
Then the memories struck swift and sharp.
Her eyes snapped fully open, her muscles tensed, and her hand darted to the side grabbing Grovetender from the stone ground with practiced reflexes. She scrambled to her feet in a rush, panic flaring in her chest, breath short and uneven.
The orb—that strange thing of pure white ... it entered me.
What happened? Why...?
She clutched her chest with one hand as her breathing quickened, heart pounding. Her crimson gaze darted around the cavern, scanning for threats, signs of change, anything.
But nothing seemed different. The cave was as it had been quiet, serene, indifferent.
Several moments passed. Her breathing slowed. Her grip on the scythe loosened. Slowly, her tension bled away. She sat back down onto the mossy grass with a long, calming exhale, her other hand still pressed lightly over her chest as if trying to reassure herself she was still whole while the other hand put down her scythe.
And then, she noticed it, the little axolotl.
It was staring at her from just a short distance away, still close to her hair, eyes wide and expression blank but harmless.
Azalea blinked.
Then, with a tired, faintly amused smile pulling at her lips, she leaned slightly forward and whispered softly:
"Hello there, little axolotl..."
The creature responded with a curious wiggle of its tail.
Azalea smiled faintly at the little axolotl as its tail gave another wiggle, carefree and gentle. For a brief moment, its innocent presence chipped away at the lingering tension in her chest.
Her gaze slowly drifted away from the creature as her mind turned inward.
How much time has passed since I lost consciousnes s...?
She looked around again, her crimson eyes scanning the mossy floor, the stone walls laced with glowing vines, the distant shadows where cave and darkness merged away from the Glowberries light.
Then, tilting her head back, she gazed upward toward the hanging glow berries above, their light still steady—unchanged.
"Maybe... it's been quite some time," she murmured aloud to the empty space, her voice soft and pensive.
The thought of her three undead came next.
They should've returned by now ... or at least one of them...
She sighed quietly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear as her thoughts wandered.
"Perhaps they got lost again," she said under her breath, half-exasperated, half-amused. "Still... I'll give them a little more time. I'm sure they'll find their way back to me."
Silence followed.
Not the oppressive, ominous kind but the gentle hush of the underground, where water droplets dropped from above from dripstones and bats fluttered unseen.
Azalea slowly sat up straighter and began running her fingers through her long green hair. Bits of dust, small moss fragments, and a few stray leaves had clung to her during her collapse. With a patient hand, she began to comb through it by hand, untangling the mess in slow, careful motions.
As she did, a hum escaped her lips, a soft, lilting tune. Ancient. Familiar.
A melody from a time long past... from before she had vines growing on her skin... before her eyes burned red beneath black sclera... from a time when her name was whispered by a living family she barely remembered.
A time when she was still a young little human.
The tune floated into the cavern air, echoing faintly off the stone. It was mournful, but warm like something to be remembered, but no longer able to experience.
And so, she sat there, brushing her hair and humming softly to herself... waiting.
As Azalea quietly hummed to herself, her melody was suddenly and violently shattered by the sharp, unnatural sound of five bells ringing at once.
The sound came from nowhere and everywhere all at once, piercing and disorienting.
She winced, her body instinctively tensing as her hands flew to her ears. But covering them made no difference. The ringing continued to stab through her senses as if the sound were inside her skull, not outside.
Her eyes clenched shut.
She gritted her teeth and endured it, waiting, willing for it to end.
And then, just as suddenly as it began, the ringing stopped.
Silence returned.
But it was a different kind of silence now. No longer peaceful. It felt wrong.
Azalea opened her eyes, narrowed and sharp with suspicion. Her muscles were taut as she scanned the cavern with predator-like precision.
That sound, those bells ringing did not belong here.
No living creature in the entire span of the Lush Caves that she personally explored or knew of could make that kind of noise naturally. She was sure of it. Absolutely sure.
That could only mean one of two things.
Outsiders... or rogue undeads.
Her hand instinctively reached for the haft of her scythe Grovetender and wrapped around it tightly. The smooth azalea-wood handle felt cool and grounding against her skin.
She stood to her full height, her eyes glowing faintly with a pulsing red glint under the light of the glow berries.
No more misjudgments. No more underestimating anything.
With a sharp breath, she extended one hand forward, her fingers curling in a precise gesture as she muttered something under her breath. The cave walls shuddered slightly in response.
Then— CRACK —aggressive, thorned vines burst forth from the stone, twisting and writhing like serpents on command. They lashed and coiled in a protective perimeter around her, ready to strike down anything that dared approach.
Her voice rang out into the cavern, cold and venomous:
"Reveal yourselves! Whoever you are, whatever you are and however many you may be. This is your only warning."
The echo of her voice bounced off the stone and faded into the dark.
And the silence that followed felt even heavier than before.
Suddenly, without any sign or warning, a flat, white, semi-transparent rectangle appeared before Azalea hovering in the air just a few feet from her face.
Before she could react, a cheerful, artificial-sounding voice echoed out from nowhere and everywhere at once:
"Greetings, User Azalea!"
The voice was impossibly chipper. Friendly. Far too cheerful for the eeriness of the moment.
Azalea didn't waste a second.
Her red eyes narrowed into slits, and with a sharp gesture of her hand, she barked a command—"Strike!"
The thorned vines she had summoned cracked through the air like whips, lashing out at the hovering rectangle with savage speed and strength.
But—
They passed through.
As though it wasn't there at all.
Azalea's eyes widened slightly, a growl forming in her throat.
"What?" she hissed, before immediately ordering another strike. Then another. Again. And again. Without pause or hesitation.
The vines lashed and retracted with brutal rhythm, slamming into the same space over and over and more than a dozen strikes in the span of seconds.
Each time, the result was the same: no contact. No resistance. The strange white rectangle remained exactly where it was, untouched, unbothered, unfazed.
Azalea's breathing grew heavier, frustration bubbling up in her chest like magma. She stood rigid, her fingers twitching with restrained fury, and she finally demanded through clenched teeth:
"What are you!?"
Her voice echoed through the cave with a sharp edge—half rage, half fear. Of whatever this thing was in front of her.
And it was still floating there, silently. Waiting.
Suddenly, the strange floating rectangle spoke again, its voice still infuriatingly cheerful:
"Well, that was rude, User Azalea!"
Azalea snarled in frustration and shouted,
"Silence!"
With a swift motion of her hand, she commanded the thorned vines to grab chunks of nearby stone blocks and fling them at the strange object. One after another, the moss-covered stone blocks were hurled with force but just like the vines, they passed through the translucent white surface as if it were nothing but air.
"Agh!" Azalea let out a furious, guttural sound, teeth clenched and scythe in hand as the voice continued, unbothered:
"How about we calm down and talk out the misunderstanding? Hmm? User Azalea?"
Azalea spat the words:
"Talk things out? You—"
She stopped herself mid-sentence, her hands trembling slightly. Then, with a long, drawn-out sigh of frustration, she hissed:
"Fine. I'm listening... whatever you are."
She inhaled slowly through her nose, then exhaled through her mouth, grounding herself before narrowing her eyes at the white panel and demanding,
"Now, How do you know my name? Answer me!"
The voice replied, cheerfully and with a tone like it was stating the most obvious thing in the world:
"Of course, I know your name, dummy! We bonded, remember? I was the orb—y'know, the orb we bonded with!"
Azalea blinked in disbelief, her face twitching in irritation as she repeated slowly:
You... were that thing?"
Her tone was half shocked, half suspicious, and entirely annoyed as she took a step back, her scythe still gripped tightly in one hand, eyes fixed on the translucent shape before her. Her mind reeled as she tried to piece together what that meant. What kind of bond had she just unknowingly formed? And more importantly and what had she allowed into herself?
And yet the white rectangle floated calmly in front of her as if nothing unusual had happened at all.
The strange voice chimed again, still as cheerful as ever.
"Since I already know your name, and you don't know mine, allow me to introduce myself! My name is Gacha of Fiction —though I'd much rather you call me Amelia!"
Azalea's expression only grew more perplexed. Her grip on her scythe loosened slightly, but her eyes were sharp, wary. She tilted her head ever so slightly, confusion etched into her features.
"Ga...cha?" she repeated, tasting the unfamiliar word as though it were foreign on her tongue. "Quite a strange word... Never heard of it. And 'of Fiction'? You mean... tall-tales told by drunken bards? Children's stories in old books? Legends passed down through generations?"
She narrowed her eyes, skepticism heavy in her voice.
"Are you merely a figment of my imagination, Amelia?"
The white rectangle pulsed slightly with light, and Amelia's voice responded playfully—almost teasingly:
"Nope! I am one hundred percent real. Not a figment, not a dream, not a hallucination—scouts honor!"
There was a pause, then Amelia added with a touch of excitement:
"In fact... I can show you one of my functions if you'd like! Just to prove I'm the real deal!"
Azalea didn't speak right away. She stood still, her expression unreadable but her eyes flicked toward the glowing rectangle with a cautious glint. Whatever this "Amelia" was, it clearly wasn't natural.
Still... if it offered answers and things worth hearing, even then she would hear it out.
Azalea the. narrowed her eyes as with a sigh of resignation she said,
"Go on then. Show me one of your... 'functions.' Let's see if you're truly real."
"Alrighty! Here we go~!" Amelia chimed with childlike enthusiasm.
Suddenly, the floating white rectangle vanished in an instant and only to be replaced by something even stranger: a translucent bluish square, roughly the size of Azalea's head, hovering perfectly in front of her at eye level. Words began to shimmer into view on its surface.
Gacha Inventory:
• 158. 1 Shield Zombie (Plants vs. Zombies 2)
• 24. 'Anyone Can Cook' Cookbook of Gusteau (Ratatouille)
• 178. 1 Centurion Zombie (Plants vs. Zombies 2)
• 277. Desperate Defense Doctrine Branch Guidebooks (Modified Hearts of Iron IV)
• 136. Random Colored Bed (Modified Minecraft)
Azalea raised an eyebrow, arms crossing as she leaned slightly forward to examine the square. Her voice was sharp but calm.
"What... exactly am I looking at? And what purpose does this serve in proving you're not merely a figment of delusion or imagination?"
Amelia let out a soft giggle that echoed oddly from the floating square.
"We're just getting to that! But first, allow me to explain, this right here is your Gacha Inventory! Every Gacha rolled you get will be deposited here for you to view and use. Pretty neat, right?"
Azalea muttered under her breath,
"Gacha... that word again..."
Then more loudly, she said,
"And? Again, let me ask: how does this prove anything? It still means nothing to me."
Her eyes stayed locked on the floating square, skeptical but now with a flicker of curiosity.
Amelia giggled once more, her voice chiming brightly from the hovering interface.
"We'll get right to it! But first why don't you press one of the rolls in your Gacha Inventory? Anything in there will do!"
Azalea raised an eyebrow, still skeptical. But with a quiet sigh, she decided to humor it, if only to understand what kind of madness she was dealing with. Her eyes scanned the so-called Gacha Inventory before her.
Eventually, her gaze settled on one item in particular:
136. Random Colored Bed (Modified Minecraft)
She tapped it with a light, uncertain touch.
"'Minecraft'... a strange name," she murmured to herself. "Sounds like a blend between 'mine'—as in mining and 'craft'... as in crafting. Modified, though? What's up with that?"
She barely understood any of it—but the word bed caught her interest.
It had been who knows how long since she had slept in a proper one. Ever since her exile and eventual arrival and living in the Lush Caves, her only resting places had been either makeshift hammocks formed through chloromancy, piles of moss on the cold stone floor, or haphazard beds made from oversized dripleaf leaves. Comfort was not something she could afford—not down here.
"A real bed..." she muttered. "If such a thing can even exist from such questionable means."
The moment she tapped it, Amelia let out an audible "Ding~!" like a tiny bell signaling something.
Then—thud.
Azalea flinched, spinning around instinctively. Her eyes widened slightly.
Behind her, resting right on the mossy ground, was indeed a bed, a simple and blocky one in design, its wooden frame clean and sturdy. A soft-looking yellow blanket covered the top, with a neatly placed white pillow at the head. The bed stood about knee-high and looked just long enough for someone her size to comfortably lie down on.
Azalea stared, stunned.
"By the Swamps... it's real?" she muttered under her breath, taking a cautious step toward it.
She reached out and touched the soft fabric. Warm. The wood is solid. The bed was real. Not an illusion. Not a Delusion and certainly not a figment of imagination.
For the first time in years, she saw a real bed.
A few moments or so Azalea continued to examine the newly appeared bed with a curious gaze, running her fingers over the soft yellow blanket and pressing gently on the white pillow. It was very real and tangible. A strange, almost childlike sense of wonder crept into her chest.
But that wonder was quickly replaced by a small frown.
She folded her arms and muttered aloud, "Why is it yellow? Couldn't it be emerald green?" Her voice carried a hint of annoyance, as though the color alone was an insult to her aesthetic sensibilities.
Almost immediately, the translucent bluish square reappeared in front of her, hovering insistently in the air and Amelia's voice rang out from it with exaggerated disbelief.
"Are you kidding me right now?! That's your focus? Not the fact that the bed literally just appeared out of nowhere as literal solid proof that I'm real?"
Azalea didn't even blink. She crossed one leg over the other, settling on the bed with a slow, almost regal grace, and replied without remorse, "Yes. That is my focus."
A groan escaped from Amelia, dripping with theatrical frustration.
"Ughhh! Unbelievable. Look if you actually read the item's name in your inventory like a normal person you'd have noticed it clearly says 'Random Colored Bed'!"
Azalea rolled her eyes dramatically, brushing some moss from her long dark hair before leaning back slightly.
"Well excuse me," she retorted with mock offense, "for not noticing such minor details when I was too busy trying to understand whatever 'Minecraft' and 'modified' meant. My attention was... divided."
She paused briefly after saying that. Her amusement faded just a little, and a flicker of doubt crossed her expression. Her eyes softened, drifting toward the quiet pool nearby.
She then paused as her fingers began curling slightly on the edge of the blanket. A thought struck her, bringing her brows together in concern.
"But wait," she said more softly now, "how can I even be certain that this isn't some dream? What if... my real self is still lying unconscious somewhere? What if all of this is nothing but a vivid and realistic dream?"
Amelia groaned again louder, longer this time and as if physically pained by Azalea's continued doubt.
"Oh, come on! Isn't a magical bed popping into existence at your feet already proof enough that I'm real?!"
Azalea raised an unimpressed brow.
"Not enough," she replied flatly.
Amelia went silent for a beat. Then her voice returned, flat and resigned.
"Fine then. You asked for it. Here it goes..."
Without warning, a sudden jolt of energy zapped through Azalea's body mild, but sharp enough to make her flinch. Her back straightened, her hand immediately going to her ribs.
"Ouch!" she hissed, her eyes wide. "That... hurts! That actually hurts?!"
Then realization struck her.
"Wait... that hurts! That means... I'm not dreaming at all!"
The translucent interface flickered as Amelia's voice returned, now thoroughly deadpan and sarcastic.
"Believe me now, Your Skeptical Highness?"
Azalea glared slightly at the tone but said nothing. Instead, she looked down at the yellow blanket again, running a hand over it as the truth slowly began to slowly settle in her bones despite the remaining skepticism and doubts.
Azalea then crossed her arms as she sat more firmly on the bed, her scythe now resting beside her. After a long moment of silence, she finally said, her voice measured and calm:
"Fine... I will concede. You are... highly possibly real."
Amelia's voice returned with an audible scoff, her tone drenched in skepticism.
"Highly possibly real? Not actually real? You're literally touching a bed from the Gacha Inventory and you're still hedging?"
Azalea's gaze narrowed slightly, but she remained composed.
"I still do not trust you... whatever you are, Amelia. But after everything that's happened including this... Bed, I will grant you the benefit of doubt."
There was a moment of silence, then Amelia replied with dry sarcasm:
"Oh joy. A benefit of doubt. Instead of full trust. Truly an honor, thank you so much, Your Leafy Grace."
Azalea exhaled sharply through her nose, her expression unreadable.
"I do not appreciate your sarcasm."
Without skipping a beat, Amelia snapped back:
"And I do not appreciate your endless doubt and skepticism!"
Azalea narrowed her eyes, a faint frown forming but then she closed them, choosing instead to breathe in and let it go. No point in arguing with an overly chatty sentient thing assuming if that's what Amelia was.
She adjusted her posture, folded her hands over her lap, and spoke in a more thoughtful tone.
"Very well. Since we can... tentatively establish that you're likely real, allow me to ask a more important question: What is your purpose? You've repeatedly called me 'User Azalea'—as if I'm using something. So I ask: What, or rather, whom, am I using?"
Amelia's voice immediately turned cheerful again, bouncing with enthusiasm.
"Ooooh! Good question! For that second part—it's me, of course!"
Azalea raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued yet still wary.
"You?"
"Yep!" Amelia replied proudly, almost as if it was obvious.
Azalea leaned forward slightly, her tone inquisitive and cautious.
"Hmmm... if I am the one using you... then what is your function?"
Amelia's response was nearly instant, bright, and proud like a merchant showing off a prized relic.
"To assist my current user, to the absolute best of my capabilities! Specifically when it comes to all things Gacha-related!"
Azalea tilted her head slightly, repeating the word with a tinge of suspicion.
"...Gacha."
She still wasn't entirely sure what that word meant... but she had the strange feeling she was only scratching the surface of something much, much larger.
Azalea's voice then turned contemplative as her gaze lingered on the strange floating square.
"Then tell me... what is the meaning of this word? 'Gacha'?" she asked slowly, carefully watching the translucent bluish interface.
There was a long pause as Amelia hesitated as if fumbling for words. Then, her voice finally returned, sheepish and uncertain.
"Uhh... it's a secret?"
Azalea's brow furrowed, and her tone grew sharper, more edged.
"Is that so? You expect me to place trust in something—or someone—that won't even disclose what they are ? like what does this... Gacha even mean ?"
Amelia let out a nervous chuckle, the tone shifting to apologetic.
"S-Sorry! I really, really can't. I'm not allowed to. It's part of the rules. And unfortunately, I can't explain those rules either because.... well.... you guessed it, that's also against the rules."
Azalea stared blankly, her expression unreadable.
"I see. Then I will not waste time asking about these so-called rules you refuse to explain."
Her voice dropped into something colder, more calculating.
"Now... what did you mean earlier by 'being with me for a long, long, long, long time' ? And 'as long as I live'? "
Amelia perked back up, her voice cheery as ever.
"Exactly what I said! So long as you're still ... well, you , and haven't died permanently , I'll be around. Because now, thanks to our bonding, you and I are linked for the rest of your undead life!"
Azalea's eyes narrowed faintly, calculating once more.
"Then... if I were to die. Truly die ... would that sever the bond? Would you perish as well?"
Amelia paused, then replied in a matter-of-fact tone.
"Not exactly 'die'—no. I become inactive. Dormant. That's the more accurate term."
Azalea's voice dropped to a deathly stillness, her next words like cold steel.
"And what, pray tell, would stop me from ending my own existence... if it meant severing our connection?"
For once, Amelia didn't respond with a joke or laugh. Her tone was still chipper but there was an edge of certainty to it, one that couldn't be dismissed.
"Oh please. I seriously doubt any sane being would destroy themselves just to get rid of a blessing like me. And besides..." her voice lowered just slightly, "when I say permanently die, I mean permanently . No loopholes, no faking it, no clever little self-harming tricks. You can't fool me and you definitely can't fool the rules."
Azalea said nothing for a long moment, her expression completely blank—though her mind was anything but.
She did not like having unseen rules.
She did not like having something bound to her.
And most of all... she did not like not being in control.
But for now... this Amelia, this Gacha... was here. And if nothing else, Azalea would learn all she could about it... before deciding what came next.
Azalea then narrowed her eyes slightly, her voice low and measured as she took a single step toward the translucent square still lingering before her.
"Then do tell me, Amelia... since you claim we are now bound for the rest of my undead life, your words, not mine, what exactly do you stand to gain from this so-called bond? And what, in turn, do I give to you?"
Amelia didn't hesitate, her tone chipper and bright, as if the question was expected.
"Easy! What I gain is being useful again! And as for you ? Well, you get to use my wonderful, versatile, one-of-a-kind Gacha services! Sounds like a win-win to me!"
Azalea's expression soured instantly, the corners of her mouth pulling downward in disdain. Her hands clenched by her sides as she snapped sharply:
"That's a load of rotting nonsense!"
Her voice echoed slightly through the lush cavern, the nearby glowberries seeming to flicker in response to her raised tone.
"To be useful? That's your grand reason? What do you take me for, a child? I am neither young nor gullible enough to believe in such a selfless, idealistic fantasy. Nothing, nothing offers free service without expecting something in return. This reeks of manipulation."
For a moment, there was silence. Then Amelia responded in a tone of not being offended, nor angry at all but in the same casual, lighthearted tone as ever, though with a subtle thread of sincerity beneath it.
"Believe it or not, that's truly what I gain. I exist to assist a user. That's it. Whether you trust me now or in ten years probably ... it doesn't change a thing."
The square pulsed faintly with a soft glow as Amelia's tone grew gently resolute.
"I'll still be here. With you. Until the end."
Azalea stared silently for a long moment, her mind turning behind those cold eyes. She did not trust easily. She never had. But Amelia... no matter how strange, no matter how suspicious... hadn't lied yet for now.
But that didn't mean she wouldn't.
And Azalea would be watching every step.
Carefully.
Suddenly— snap! —Azalea's instincts flared before thought could catch up.
Her hand shot to Grovetender.
With a sharp clang , the curved scythe's gleaming edge flashed in the dim glow of the cave, slicing cleanly through a streak of movement in the air. A sharp metallic ping followed as the two severed halves of an arrow clattered harmlessly to the mossy ground.
Azalea's eyes narrowed instantly.
Without hesitation, she twisted and kicked the side of the wooden bed she'd just been sitting on, flipping it up on its side to form a makeshift barricade. The yellow blanket fluttered to the ground like a flag in surrender, the white pillow bouncing away and rolling once before coming to a stop.
No sooner had she taken cover behind the bedframe than a volley of arrows whistled through the air. One embedded into the flipped frame with a thunk , another ricocheted off the stone nearby, and a third buried itself into the soft cave floor with a dull thud .
Azalea's sharp gaze snapped toward the source.
There just beyond the twisting vines and the flora stood a rogue squad of four skeletal undead. Gaunt, hollow-eyed, moss hanging from their cracked frames like tattered cloaks. Each of them nocked another arrow into decayed bows, string groaning as they pulled tautly.
"Hostile rogue undeads?" Azalea muttered under her breath, voice low with cold realization.
Her grip on Grovetender tightened, and the glowberries along its curved spine pulsed faintly with dim light, vines creeping up her forearm in response to her rising tension.
She exhaled once, slowly, through her nose. "Amelia," she said with chilling calm, eyes locked on the enemy through peeking out of the bed, "we'll have to continue this enlightening conversation later ."
And with that, she pushed off from the barricade, scythe spinning once in her grip as she prepared to meet the attackers head-on.
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