Wait… what was it again?
“Ahhhhh, yeah! The Adless Children! Gotta get the loot from that sweat plot device!”
He turns to Elnora-san.
“Soooo… about the Adless Children, when are we leaving Micro?”
She replies with a warm smile:
“Such a thoughtful hero—never forgetting the most pressing of matters. We’ll be leaving tomorrow by ADBoat, surfing the big wide ocean!”
Sometimes in my heart of hearts I say, it’s good to have a quality sugar mama. Things just get conveniently resolved.
"Ahhh, now I remember—let’s check my status window."
DING!
[Cheapo Hero / Cheapo DemonScrub Subscription]
“What the hell? When did I subscribe to being a demon?!”
Cheapo Hero – Level 10: The longer you hold, the harder it is. (Ad-counter rate increases.)
Cheapo DemonScrub – Level 25: The longer you hold, the more feet ads you get.
"WHY DOES IT ALWAYS COME BACK TO THE FEET?!"
Foam trickles from the corner of my mouth.
Let’s check my DMs. Apparently, there are new "followers" in my inbox...
A dark blue scribbly silhouette DMs me:
“Can we discuss your recent review? We’re hoping to improve the experience and gather insight for future product development.”
Honestly, this one seems like a legit office worker. Respect. I know the smell of the wage-slave when I see one.
Lucile-chan, now clearly fallen, posts a picture of moldy bread with a sad emoji.
Another one:
“It’s a blue haired femboy!!!”
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
“HISSSSSSSSSSS!!!”
I cast FIRE and ASH.
The worst one:
A feet pic holding a leather whip.
“GRUMBLE GRUMBLE… FUCKING CANCER.”
A censored blocky mess:
“A fan of the hero. His antics bring me joy. It feels as if fate itself is guiding us toward an inevitable meeting. ??”
“Another delusional one... just great.”
Black lines form over my head as I make the mistake of clicking on the Saintess’s social feed.
Regret. Regret. REGRET!!!!
She’s posted screenshots of my "heroic highlights"... and some very susss paywalled content.
One post reads:
“Sealing the deal ??” with her clutching her tatas.
“Wishing us the best on our wedding night~ ??”
“WHEN THE HELL DID I GET MARRIED?!”
Sighhhhhhh.
Still shaking off the psychic damage, I return to my entourage and we head back to the hotel for one last night in this cursed port city of sunk costs.
I’m back in the meadow. Peaceful, gentle… almost nostalgic.
To my left is a giant wall dividing the dream world.
To the right, Caladblock smiles while bookmarking photos from our restaurant date.
“Ara~ Hajime-san, welcome home.”
She materializes a miasma table and gestures for me to sit.
Suddenly—
THUD.
A massive slam hits the wall.
“I like what you’ve done with the place. It’s less noisy now.”
She smiles sweetly.
“Yes… it was for our sake.”
Her eyes flash a bit too void-like for comfort. Nothing ominous here. Nope. Totally normal.
THUD.
“Hmm… the wall might need soundproofing. Some noise-cancelling padding might help.”
She nods thoughtfully.
“You’re right, hon. But I’ll need more power for that. Your next destination… let’s hope for the best outcome.”
Another smile—this one dangerously sweet.
CRASH!!!
A whale with a massive bump on its head bursts through the wall.
“YATTA!! I STILL GOT IT!!”
Sigh.
She broke through the wall.
The whale screams:
“HOW COULD YOU TREAT ME THIS WAY?!
HAVE I DONE ANYTHING TO WARRANT THIS?!”
Hajime, deadpan seriously says:
“Yes.”
Teary-eyed, she whimpers:
“W-What have I done…?”
Hajime again, getting philosophical:
“Such a fundamental question. But simply put…
As a sword… you’re useless.
I only see you as… a convenient compass.”
“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!”
A scream of denial echoes through the dream realm.
The most tragic of heroines, no longer a “priceless sword” but just… a directional tool.
She stares into the horizon.
“I… I don’t got it.”
A single, lonely tear rolls down her blocky whale-cheek.
Fine, ill give one time.
I’ll watch a polishing ad later.
That perks her up:
“I’LL BE THE BEST COMPASS EVER!!!”
…Such an easy idiot to please.
A new morning dawns. Hajime-san gazes at the port city of Micro for the last time.
No good memories here.
Only desperation, delusion, and newly developed traumas.
"Let’s get out of here."
At least Caladblock is still dutifully slicing down the environmental pop-up ads that fly toward my face while we board the ADBoat.
“Our journey will be long. But I hope it’s smooth sailing from here…”
Narrator: It will not be smooth sailing, I promise.