Bonus Chapter: Clay's Journal Sketches

  (Takes place near the end of Chapter 22)

  With my abilities and skill points updated, I no longer had any need for my journal. It would only take a quick moment to close the black leatherbound book and make it disappear from my hand, but I hesitated.

  Making myself at home in Riff's office, I pulled out the chair at his desk and sat down. I pushed his cluttered paperwork aside, making sure not to accidentally knock over his mug. Now that I had a clear space, I placed my journal on the desk and started to flip through the pages.

  When I had first arrived in this world after being dragged into the depths of the Atlantic by a giant eldritch tentacle monster, I had discovered that the contents of our journals were only visible to their owner. This was a feature that proved to be annoying, and only added to the challenges in trusting other players. I had to take someone's word when they told me about their abilities.

  The anonymity of the journal wasn't entirely bad. Being a massive otaku, I spent a large part of my formative years drawing cringe-worthy anime characters over everything I owned. I loved it, and was even proud of some of my creations. That disappeared over time when Kyle and Stacy constantly made sure I knew just how untalented I was at drawing. Instead of feeling the passion for my hobby, I could only feel shame. I stopped drawing out of fear of my creations being discovered, and of the ridicule that would follow. But since the journal contents were only visible to me, I finally had the perfect place to draw without being criticized.

  It had been years since I'd even sketched the most basic of characters, so my hands were clumsy. My confidence was already completely shattered by Kyle and Stacy, so I couldn't view a single line of my sketches with a sense of pride... But still, I took moments from the stress to draw.

  Shortly after waking up in this new world, before leaving the safe zone of the alley, I took a moment to sketch the beautiful goddess who accompanied me. My sketch was clumsy, and I couldn't look at it with anything other than shame. It also drew annoyance from Joan as I repeatedly looked at her while drawing. As ashamed as I felt for my finished product, I was happy that I had documented someone so important to me. I didn't currently have a way to take photos, so this might be the best memory I'd have if she ever wised up and decided to leave me.

  It wasn't too long into the journey when I'd discovered the love of my life... Riff's mustache. Sadly, my time with that glorious upper-lip curtain was nearing its end. The timer for the first investigation was ticking away, and no matter how many times I glanced in its direction, I couldn't take it with me. My amateur sketch of it was immature and did nothing to capture its brilliance. Still, at least I had something to remember the one that got away.

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  I moved my eyes from Riff's stache to the tragically conflicted woman with green hair. As she sorted through her inventory, her eyes still had a painful emptiness. There had been moments where she had met my eyes with flickers of life, but those moments were fleeting. Sadly, I knew her look too well. She was a kindred spirit. I wanted so desperately to help her find herself... If she could find herself, maybe that meant it was possible for me to do the same.

  She didn't seem to mind when I stole glances to sketch her in my journal. Part of me wished I could show her the finished product because I felt that if anyone wouldn't make fun of my sketches, it would be Tara. I just wish the sketch I made of her face had been more flattering.

  Unfortunately, Tara had a parasite. It sucked away her brilliance to strengthen itself. It had no regard for her health or happiness. It aimed to harm anyone who could possibly separate it from Tara. Its name was Raif, and while I didn't know his current location, even I wasn't naive enough to believe we'd seen the last of him. As long as he was still breathing, he would do everything in his power to crush Tara's attempts at happiness.

  Not wanting to look at Raif any longer, I flipped ahead in my journal. I had forgotten this drawing. Even though the page looked like it had some water damage from tears, I was obviously too manly to ever cry my eyes out. It must have been someone else... Or a leaky ceiling...

  But as much as I tried to ignore the pain in my chest, or the regret that I held over his death, it never went away. I had failed him. He was so kind to me, and I failed him. He would forever be a constant reminder of how far I needed to grow. If I couldn't get stronger who would I fail next? Joan? Tara? Riff's mustache?!

  I might be a failure of a human being, but people depended on me. Deep Juan was a constant reminder that I needed to get better.

  As I turned the pages, my body froze at the next sketch. Mostly because I was embarrassed by how badly it looked. I couldn't even tell if I'd tried scribbling out the sketch out of embarrassment, or if I had some other reason.

  Still, my attempts at sketching that terrifying and infuriating deity could never do it justice. Somehow I survived, but I was left with terror and confusion. The eldritch god of chaos lived up to its name. I hoped this was the only encounter with him I would ever have.

  A chill ran down my spine as I remembered the plot of Ghostbusters 2, where a painting of Vigo the Carpathian overtook New York City in order to possess a baby. Could Tep's presence in my pitiful little sketch bring about the end of days? Unlike Ghostbusters 2, I didn't have the Statue of Liberty or a bunch of dancing pink goo to help me save the day... It was a really weird movie.

  Possibly sensing my distress, or maybe he secretly knew the next sketch that I'd find, Dalos leapt onto my lap and started licking my face. The tendrils of miasma surrounding him clung to me as he nuzzled against my neck and chest.

  If there was a single positive thing that this world had brought me, it was my infinitely loving Hound of Tindalos puppy Dalos. My familiar didn't exist in the previous world, so unlike Joan and Tara who I could have met even if we hadn't been dragged into this absurd death game, I would have never met Dalos if I hadn't been dragged here. Unlike Riff's mustache that would likely not follow me on my journey, there was an unbreakable bond between Dalos and myself.

  With Dalos, I might never have to be alone. I knew that he loved me unconditionally, and for someone like myself, that was unthinkable. He's a good boy.

  I let Dalos happily look at the sketch. I might not have confidence in my drawing ability, but my puppy clearly liked this one. It dawned on me that due to him being my familiar, Dalos must not be blocked from my journal like the others. I wasn't really sure how that might benefit me in the future since he couldn't read or write, but it was still noteworthy.

  The eldritch puppy yipped happily at his clumsily drawn likeness. I was proud of this sketch. Not because I felt I had done an exceptionally good job, but because it brought happiness to someone I loved.