♤ revised v.1 ♤
Arch shook the cobwebs of the talent show dream from his head and stood up, stretching until his small joints popped. " laying on the floor again... I'm making a habit of this. Hey, System. How long was I out?"
CREEAAAAKKKK. [ 9 HOURS, 34 MINUTES, 48 SECONDS. ]
"Great. Almost a full night's sleep on a hardwood floor." Arch bent down to pick up the crystal plate he had been served his burger on. "Check the world clock. What time is it?"
CREEAAAAKKKK. [ PROCESSING... 7:04 ]
"7:04? AM or PM?" No response came. Arch sighed. "Probably morning. Military time usually handles the rest. Enough playing around—time to be productive."
He extended his hand, his eyes sharpening with a focus that didn't belong to a five-year-old. "ROOM."
The blue dome flickered to life, stronger and more stable than before. Arch felt every splinter in the floor, every rustle of the wind outside. "I'm in control now. SHAMBLES."
SWOOOSH.
The heavy crystal plate in his hand vanished, replaced instantly by a small, rectangular object. Arch caught it between two fingers. It was a playing card. The back was emblazoned with the iconic jolly roger of the Whitebeard Pirates. He flipped it over.
His eyes widened. The card depicted Murakumogiri, the legendary naginata of Edward Newgate.
"Gurararara... a Supreme Grade blade in a card?" He read the fine print at the bottom: [80% TEMPLATE REQUIRED TO SUMMON]. "So I can't pull it out yet, but I can carry it. Convenient. System, tuck this away."
CREEAAAAKKKK. [ REQUEST APPROVED. ]
He slid the card into the shimmering inventory tab and turned his attention back to his spatial senses. Within the ROOM, he could feel the layout of the entire house.
"The coffin... the plate... a candle... and..." Arch paused, his gaze landing on a dark corner he hadn't explored. "A statue?"
He walked toward it, his small footsteps echoing. As he got closer, the "statue" became clear. It was a man sitting cross-legged, draped in a white kimono and a long, tattered blue scarf. A katana sat tucked into his waist.
Arch let out a low, rumbling laugh. "Gurarararara... Shimotsuki Ryuma. Care to explain why the legendary Sword God's mummy is chilling in my room?"
The mummified corpse was silent, its skin like dried parchment.
"Are you guarding that coffin?" Arch pointed back at the jeweled casket he had crawled out of. "Or were you keeping an eye on what was inside it? Too bad you can't talk. Looking up at you is giving me a stiff neck, so I'll just take that blade as payment for the trouble."
As Arch reached for the katana, the room temperature plummeted. Two sparks of blue flame ignited within the mummy's dark eye sockets.
"Oh? Still kicking, are we?"
The corpse stood. It didn't move like a living thing; it moved like a machine made of old, screeching wood. It ignored Arch, walking instead toward the far wall that had kept Arch sealed in.
Ryuma halted three feet from the wood. His skeletal hand blurred.
WHOOSH.
Arch didn't even see the draw. One moment the blade was sheathed; the next, a vertical line appeared on the wall, and the air itself seemed to scream. The Dragon Slayer sheathed his blade with a metallic click and let it fall to the floor.
"Ninmu Tassei..." the mummy rasped, its voice like sandpaper on bone.
As the words left its lips, the magic holding the corpse together vanished. Ryuma crumbled, his ancient remains turning to dust and bone before Arch could speak.
Arch stood in the silence for a moment, then reached down and picked up the katana. "Then I'll take your gift. Thank you for the hard work, old man."
He looked at the wall. The strike hadn't just cut the wood; it had obliterated the seal. Sunlight poured into the room for the first time in an eternity. Arch cracked his neck, the 6% template humming in his veins.
"Gurarararara... let's have some fun, shall we?"
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TO BE CONTINUED