The Geographic Miscalculation (Narrator's POV)
Now, logically speaking, they should have reached the village where the dragon fell within twenty minutes.
But here is a fun fact about thick, unregulated magical forests: they all look exactly the fucking same. Because they stopped to argue about saving the adventurers, they completely lost their sense of direction. They took a wrong turn at a suspiciously shaped rock, and instead of finding the small farming village, they accidentally hiked for miles in the completely wrong direction.
(And no, I am not explaining how they survived the hike. They just did. Deal with it.)
Eventually, the trees cleared, and they arrived at the outskirts of a completely different, heavily populated medieval town.
The Capitalist Grief
Kniya stared at the massive stone walls of the unfamiliar town, a look of profound depression sinking into his face.
"Malesh, I think we have completely lost the way," Kniya whispered, dropping to his knees in the grass. "I literally told you not to stop for them. But you know what the absolute worst part is? There is a sickening feeling that is currently scavenging me from the inside out."
Malesh looked down at him, his face matching Kniya's utter despair. "What is it?"
"We helped them for free," Kniya realized, clutching his chest in agony. "We deployed a high-tier magical weapon, saved five lives, and we didn't even send them an invoice! We should have at least charged them a premium rescue fee!"
Malesh's face contorted into pure, devastating sadness. He slowly slid down the trunk of a tree, sitting in the dirt next to Kniya.
"You are completely right, Kniya," Malesh whispered, his voice cracking with financial grief. "And because of that terrible charitable distraction, we lost our geographic bearings. We were not able to reach that fucking dragon. Oh my God... that premium organic armor plating. The massive profits... gone. Its entire dead body is literally of no use to us now."
"Whatever the fuck this place is," Kniya sighed, pointing at the town gates, "we need to figure out what is going on in this economy."
Tactical Espionage and the Nationalist Rant
Despite wearing highly visible, expensive modern corporate clothing, Kniya and Malesh decided to enter the bustling medieval town using what they believed was "stealth."
Instead of walking down the street normally, the four incredibly wealthy executives were actively crouching behind wooden barrels, darting between fruit stands, and taking tactical cover behind brick walls like they were infiltrating a hostile military base. The local townsfolk, dressed in simple linen tunics and leather boots, were openly staring at the four weirdos aggressively hiding behind a cabbage cart.
Malesh peeked over a wooden crate, surveying the bustling medieval market with absolute, unfiltered disgust.
"This town is so fucking poor," Malesh sneered, his lip curling. "Look at this literal shit! There is zero industrial infrastructure! You know, Kniya, if you read the history books of ancient DI, you would know how a real civilization develops."
Malesh aggressively pointed a finger at the clear blue sky.
"In the ancient times of our great country, we had massive national highways!" Malesh ranted passionately, his chest swelling with toxic national pride. "We had aggressive noise pollution on every single road! The gutters were overflowing with beautiful, toxic chemical runoff! Our rivers were totally and legally polluted! The ancient forests were highly efficiently cleared out for strip malls! There was a total, glorious destruction of nature!"
"Keep your voice down, you lunatic!" Salesh hissed, nervously ducking lower behind the cabbages. Hiding in the medieval dirt was highly damaging to his corporate dignity.
Malesh completely ignored him.
"I mean, seriously, there was not a single house in ancient DI without a proper, exhaust-spewing vehicle!" Malesh continued, getting visibly angry. "Ancient DI was so great! Why does this medieval fucking shithole of a place not have anything like that?! They don't even have a multi-lane highway! Look at these roads—they are so narrow! They should be massively broad, paved with six feet of burning black asphalt! Where is the smog?! How do these people even breathe without a healthy layer of carbon monoxide in the atmosphere?!"
"Malesh, shut your fucking mouth right now!" Filoska aggressively whispered, kicking him in the ankle.
"Stop this fucking shit, Malesh!" Kniya hissed, grabbing him by the collar and pulling him back down behind the crate. "People are already looking at us in a very weird way! You are drawing hostile attention!"
Malesh aggressively yanked his collar out of Kniya's grip, adjusting his dragon-themed tie.
"Kniya, they are not looking at us because I am talking about glorious pollution," Malesh argued, gesturing wildly to his pristine white shirt and Kniya's tailored suit. "They are looking at us because we are wearing super-rich, premium capitalist clothing while they are walking around in poor, unbranded burlap sacks! They are staring at the massive income inequality! I know how this genre works—income equality is highly invisible in this world!"
Malesh peeked his head back over the cabbage cart, his corporate rage overflowing.
"Look at that bakery!" Malesh yelled, pointing at a small, family-owned bread stall. "There is zero corporate branding! No aggressive marketing campaigns! And where are the underpaid factory workers?! Where are the strikes going on?! I think there should be some sort of protests or sit-ins going on in the city, or whatever the fuck that is! They are literally just baking bread by hand like primitive animals! There is absolutely no centralized economic planning or aggressive resource exploitation here! DI is the absolute best country in existence, and this place desperately needs a hostile corporate takeover!"
The Royal Snake Translation
"Can you please, for the love of God, stop ranting for a single second, Malesh?!" Filoska violently interrupted, grabbing his shoulder and pointing toward the center of the market square. "Just look over there! Let's see what is happening. There is some massive chaos unfolding right now."
Malesh rolled his eyes, aggressively smoothing out his white shirt. "Okay, okay, whatever."
The bustling crowd of peasants suddenly parted as a tall man marched directly into the center of the dirt road. He was wearing an incredibly shiny, polished suit of knight's armor that gleamed in the sunlight, and a massive longsword was strapped tightly to his waist.
The knight puffed out his chest and began shouting loudly to the crowd.
"Vor'za! Drektal mina kor! Vesh Valdick nara!" the knight yelled, his voice echoing across the market.
Malesh adjusted his dragon-themed tie and squinted at the knight, nodding as if he completely understood the dialect.
"Well, based on his tone and aggressive body language, I have successfully translated his speech," Malesh stated with absolute, deadpan confidence. "He is clearly stating to the public that his medieval underwear just got violently torn apart. And the reason for this wardrobe malfunction is that a rogue snake was present inside his underwear, and that snake was doing a massive amount of aggressive masturbating, which entirely destroyed the fabric's structural integrity."
Kniya slowly turned his head to stare at Malesh with pure, unfiltered disgust.
"Malesh, can you please stop spitting absolute, unhinged shit out of your mouth for once?" Kniya sighed, rubbing his temples. "Why is your brain wired like this?"
Meanwhile, Salesh had been staring at the shiny knight, his brow furrowed in deep concentration. As the knight continued to shout, the strange, gibberish syllables suddenly started to morph and shift inside Salesh's mind. The foreign language instantly decoded itself, ringing in his ears as perfectly clear, modern syntax.
Salesh gasped, his eyes widening in pure shock.
"Wait... guys!" Salesh whispered aggressively, grabbing Kniya's arm. "The thing is... I can actually understand him! I can understand what these fucking idiots are saying!"
Malesh raised an eyebrow, looking Salesh up and down with intense corporate disappointment.
"So, let me get this straight. Kniya can materialize any weapon from his imagination, I can launch highly targeted nuclear radiation from my palm, and your magical reincarnation power is... translation?" Malesh asked flatly. "Yeah. What a completely useless fucking power. Whatever the fuck that is, it has zero market value."
"Hey, well, it is definitely not useless," Kniya defended, popping his mint gum. "I think, from a logistical perspective, it is a really useful power. With his translation, we can actually understand what the fucking shit these locals are saying to us without you inventing stories about masturbating snakes."
The Narrator's Linguistic Superiority (Narrator's POV)
Now, pause.
I know exactly what is happening right now. You guys are sitting there, scratching your heads, trying to find a massive plot hole. You are probably thinking, "Wait a minute, Mr. Narrator! If Salesh just unlocked his translation powers right now... how the fuck were you able to understand and write down all those previous talks between that peasant villager and his older brother during the dragon attack?!"
Well, the answer is very simple: Because I am the fucking narrator.
I had the powers. There is absolutely no question about this thing. I literally learned their fucking language myself because I am an omniscient, highly dedicated storyteller, and there is absolutely no need for you to question this shit. I had the powers, and that is exactly why I translated it for you earlier!
Ah, why the fuck do I always have to explain every little logical detail to you guys? Just accept it! Let's get back to the plot!