Mutters ripple through the courtroom again, silenced by the banging of a gavel. The arch-judge’s eyes train on me, alongside probably every other pair of eyes in the entire room. “You admit to your guilt, human?”
I shrug and point a finger at Simel. “You’ve got a good witness for it, right? I did it. I killed the king, and I killed everybody else in the city. He’d tell you the same story, so there’s no use in fighting it, is there?”
He folds his fingers across the bench. “We have enough witnesses and evidence to more than satiate the Goddess of Law. Whether you did it or not is not in question.” His eyes sharpen. “What we want to know is whether or not you have any regret whatsoever for the suffering your cruel actions caused.”
I can feel my eyebrows furrow. “How’s that relevant?”
And apparently, that was a sufficient answer, because he turns to the other arch-judge and the sentencer and shares a pretty long look. Then they turn to the emperor as a unit and he speaks, far louder than in the throne room, his voice echoing across the courtroom, “Why did you want me dead?”
My mouth opens and instantly snaps shut again. “Uh. Uhhh.” I gulp, trying not to look at Simel. In the end, I find my eyes drawn to my feet, still wearing a pair of girly white flats. “I, um…” I look up at him. “I’m just a crazy insane human who wants mayhem and death, I guess?”
Silence.
Simel didn’t even blink. Which, hopefully, means that I didn’t mess up his plan too egregiously.
The arch-judges and the sentencer turn to the crowned woman on their other side. I can hear one of them say, too softly for the rest of the room to hear, ‘Would your majesty like to make any statement?’
She doesn’t answer them. Too busy glaring at me, I suppose.
The arch-judges share a few words before turning to me. “Are you aware of the kind of sentence your crime may bring?” I nod. “Do you confirm that your confession is the truth and nothing but the truth, as granted by the God of Truth?” I nod. “Were you coerced or otherwise forced to make said confession?” I shake my head. “Once more, do you accept responsibility for the capital city of Acheron’s demise, and for the death of its king, alongside the killings of the Princess Swee-Swee and the Prince Chepert?”
“That was me, yup.”
“In that case,” the arch-judge continues, “combined with the statements regarding the crimes you have committed on your journey to reach this place, you will receive due judgement, penance and punishment, so as spoken by the sentencer. Through the will of the Goddess of Law, you will now be judged.”
The courtroom holds its breath as the sentencer speaks, his thin voice slicing through the room like a knife: “Us the high judgement finds the accused, the human Ho-Jae, guilty of massacre, of crown-killing, of murder, of home-taking, of robbery, of city-killing, of arson, of royal impersonating, of man-taking, of cannibalism, of tax evasion and of mutilation. For this, you will receive no less than the death penalty. You will be beheaded by axe until your head is severed from your shoulders. Furthermore, on special request from His Majesty Simel the Blessed of Three, before your execution, your chest shall be branded by divine fire so that no being shall view your body as anything less than despised by the Gods and by all goblinkind.”
I blink at him. I turn to Simel. He’s staring at me. Branding? Like how…
Oh, that’s clever. That’s real clever. He’s branding branding by getting me branded!
In that case, I assume his plan is not to have me escape right here and now, but rather to get branded first. I can just tear off the branded flesh later so it’s not permanent or anything. In that case, this’ll work out just great. I’ll get branded, he’ll save me, and then… Yeah. Sometimes, everything really does work out for the best, doesn’t it?
And with that, the court is adjourned. What a quick and simple situation! They take me out of the cage and walk me back through the galley, with all of the judges staring at me like I’m some exotic predator out for viewing. I chance a grin at one of them and watch with glee as its eyes roll up and it just passes out. No skill needed. Wow.
They bring me back down, into the dungeons, and chain me up once more. And just like that, I’m left to my own devices. The slightly funny part is that they didn’t even tell me in how long they’d have me executed. It could be days, or it could be months or even years. Who knows?
Well, considering that they somehow got the entire queen of Ret-inn to come to watch the court proceedings, I doubt they’d want to force her to stay months just to watch the one who killed her daughter get due justice. Hm. I wonder if this’ll cause that war they were having to end? I mean, the queen of Ret-inn is literally at the capital of the empire. I assume that means they aren’t on that bad terms anymore. Hmm.
Could it be…?
Did Simel solve the war by getting me sentenced?
Whoa. Okay, now I understand his line of thinking. See, this is why open communication is so good. If I’d known that he’d try to solve the war by using me as a throughline I’d be down for it in a heartbeat! Instead, now, we’ve got a bunch of miscommunication and dishonesty, which is the bane of all relationships.
He keeps proving me wrong about him. Even when I think of him as basically a demi-god, he still ends up outshining everything I previously thought of him. Wow. I really couldn’t ask for a better friend, huh?
Smiling, I lean back in my cell, only now remembering what I’m wearing. Oh, yeah. Skinsuit. Eugh, it reeks.
I may be almost fully tethered to my place, but that isn’t stopping me. With all the agility of a cat, I begin gnawing off the princess hide, bit by bit, carefully avoiding tearing my dress because, well… Okay, listen, how often do you think I’m going to get my hands on a dress of such high quality? When I beat the floor, I bet it’ll sell for thousands of points! Ah, I can’t wait.
For some reason, a few of the guards outside my cell are staring, but none of them dare to say anything. Interesting.
In the end, I’m left sitting in my cell, wearing a dress and exactly nothing else. Even worse, in my own personal opinion, I don’t look too bad in it. Just saying.
And then, not much of anything happens. Time passes. I spend it by meditating, doing some resistance training and meditating more. A few days pass. I was starting to fear it’d take weeks until the execution went underway, but apparently, I was just a bit luckier than I thought.
The guards that come to fetch me for the execution are dressed in much fancier armour than the normal ones, but it doesn’t hide their faces, so I have a perfectly good look at the expression they make when they see the pretty dress I’m wearing. A glare was enough to keep them from saying anything about it.
They do the old mancatcher routine, chain me up, and then we go off to my execution.
The whole palace stinks with fear, but as we move through it and to the outside, I get a whiff of fresh air, one that’s practically thick with excitement.
There’s a platform made of wood raised just outside the palace, next to a shining statue of some big goblin woman. Atop the platform stands a goblin clad in WHITE, carrying an axe, alongside a pillory, made with what seems to be marble. The fun thing here is that the platform is actually so big that it even holds three literal thrones, all with a front-row view of the action. All three are occupied. There’s the emperor, with a few other crowned spawnlings standing at his side and back. There’s the throne of the queen of Ret-inn, and then, next to her…
My eyes meet Simel’s.
He looks so… regal. He’s wearing an actual uniform of some sort, alongside a fur-collared coat, and on his head sits a crown. No, on closer inspection, it’s not just any old crown, but rather the one I saw in his satchel, back in the desert. Would you look at that? Simel—king! Would it be wrong for me to be proud of him?
I can’t know, because before I have time to think any more about Simel, one of the guards pushes me along, towards the pillory. But he stops me before we get there, shoving me to the floor by having the goblins holding the mancatcher around my neck put their weight into it. I fall to my knees, and then no more.
My chains are loosened for a moment but only to fasten me directly to the platform itself. And here we are.
I look out across the crowd gathered. Wow, there must be several tens of thousands of goblins gathered here. All to watch me do the right thing. Interesting. They’re sure to have a memorable afternoon, that’s for sure.
I glance at Simel where he sits. I chance a smile at him, but he doesn’t react in the slightest. Ah, poker face, is it? I get it, I get it.
The emperor stands up. “My people! Before you kneels the dreaded killer of Acheron, who burned to cinders that which lived, killed its rulers and felt no remorse! Not to mention its heartless slaughter of my given daughter and my own son! To those that have heard of or even met a human, the existence of this horrid demon is all the proof you need of the nature that governs all humans. However! You ought not to view these creatures’ invasion as an unstoppable assault of demons. This creature was captured, and so will all other humans who dare encroach on our divinely appointed land face judgement!”
I watch in mild interest as a goblin carrying a branding iron steps up to Simel. Going by the way he’s holding it, it’s clearly not especially hot. Curious.
“Although this glorious empire places no faith in the hocus pocus of so-called magicians, we now employ the assistance of Simel of Acheron, its current king, to imbue this branding iron with divine properties. As sin has branded it, so too will this iron brand it, purifying the flesh from the evils of its soul!”
The emperor continues speaking, thanking Simel for bringing me here and how the country should still mourn the prince and the princess or whatever, but I’m distracted by whatever kind of ritualistic magic Simel’s doing. First up, he’s using not a ring or something, but an entire damn sphere, which looks much closer to a sovereign’s orb than a crystal ball, despite it being crystalline. It’s encased in strands of finely engraved metal, designed to look like crawling vines, I think. As Simel holds it in hand, he puts his other hand on the branding iron and begins chanting. With every word he speaks, the branding iron clearly grows hotter, turning from its normal, bronze colour to a brighter yellow, until it eventually becomes a pure, horrible WHITE. Weirdly enough, it doesn’t look hot. Simel is still touching it, and the goblin holding it doesn’t seem perturbed in the least. Odd.
“—Made of soilheart, this branding iron will only brand the one culpable in the eyes of the goddess of law. Let us now see justice rendered unto this demon!”
The guy with the branding iron steps closer to me. Someone rips the entire upper part of the gown I’m wearing, exposing my chest. Hey, that’s my dress! It’s not gonna sell for anything if you rip it up, dumbo! Of course, my pleas go unheard and the man holding the branding iron steps closer. Now that it’s this close, I can see what it portrays. It’s about the size of a saucer, and the main image seems to be a crown, split in two by an arrow with a circle around it. I can tell that there’s writing on the circle and crowd, but since I’m looking at the thing mirrored, it’s hard to tell what it’s supposed to be saying.
He holds it closer. It feels cold, like it’s been flash-frozen. I squint at it, trying to make out the words. Let’s see, ‘the body upon which you find this brand has rendered unto death the city of Acheron and—
The branding iron is pressed to my chest.
<The God of Pain
pities you.>
The iron is removed from my chest. Did I scream? My throat hurts. I don’t know whether I screamed or not. The air echoes with stillness. WHITE. I look down to find the brand on the right side of my chest, stuck there, clinging to my skin, onto the clear outline of my ribs. I can feel it in my bones. Burning WHITE. Freezing WHITE. There’s a puddle of vomit in front of me. Did I make that? I don’t know.
I take breaths but the pain in my chest keeps me from breathing properly. Pain. Pain. Pain. It hurts. I feel a sound mumble its way out of my throat, like that of groaning ice.
“And now,” a voice says, from right behind me, from far behind me, somewhere, “we shall see as this creature is given the same fate as its victims, lacking only the mercy of the gods to accept it into the life beyond this!”
I’m brought to my legs. Chains are undone and redone and my head is placed atop the pillory. Pillowy. I want to sleep.
I look, and I see, just across the platform, my friend, my good friend, Simel, who watches me—he’s a king!—he watches me, and I see him, and I wonder when the plan will take hold, when he will secretly send a spell my way, to grant me strength and life, to ease my pain, to relieve me of my worries, to let me spring from where I lie draped across the pillory, flying to my feet to finally do what’s right, for the first time in my life, to make someone truly happy, to show that I can have friends, too, that I can be a good friend, even if I am only me.
“Let his head roll!”
There is a basket beneath me. To hold my head, once it falls. But it won’t fall. Simel will save me. He knows spells. He’s a wizard, you see. And wizards are patient. They know when to strike, and when not to. And now he will soon strike to save me. I can see the executioner’s shadow looming over me. He lifts his axe. Now it shall be done. Now I will be saved. Now he will grant me the strength and the will to do what is right. I know he will. I trust Simel. I trust him with all that I am. With my entire life, and with my entire death.
I trust him.
I trust him.
I trust him.
The axe is raised high, high, high, high. Above it all. Above me. Above everything that I am and ever will be. Its shadow hangs before my shadow. But I trust Simel. I trust him. I trust him.
I glance over at him. Time stops moving.
He’s looking at me. I see that. I see him looking at me as I look at him. He doesn’t look away. I don’t look away. His eyes are determined and steadfast. They shine and they burn and I see in them something I have seen for almost half a year now, something that has been in his eyes for so long, something indiscernible and human and unsaid—something dark, always there. I see that nameless darkness, and I see what it is, I hear his eyes speak, a greeting, finally telling me, whispering the name of that darkness, of what it is that looks at me when Simel turns his eyes to mine.
‘I hate you.’
‘I am glad to see you judged.’
‘I see your death and I see justice.’
‘I hate you, I hate you, I hate you. I hate—’
The axe falls.
My head jerks back, to the side, letting the axe only strike through my mouth and jaw, severing it partially, leaving my lower face to dangle as I dislocate both of my wrists and pull them straight through the barbed shackles. The iron spikes within flay my flesh but compared to the pain still lingering in my chest—compared to what’s in my heart—it is nothing. With my wrists freed and still on my knees I deftly sever the heels of my would-be executioner, slicing up his throat once he falls atop me. This all took place within a matter of only seconds.
<Goblin (Lv.13) Defeated.>
Only now do the guards holding my mancatcher collar react, jerking me back and away from the executioner, pulling me from the pillory. Acting fast, I dislocate both of my feet, letting their efforts unintentionally free me as I’m dragged to freedom. Now, I grab the mancatcher, starting a tug of war with the guards holding onto it. However, the second they begin bracing against me with their body weight, I let go, allowing myself to be brought along as they go tumbling. Using this short respite, I wrangle the handle out of their hands, and rather than spend time trying to fiddle with the locking mechanism, I simply pull it over my head, not caring as the spikes gouge long wounds along my face, neck and skull.
Freed, I turn towards the emperor.
<Emperor of the Sun [BOSS]>
He blanches. “S—someone stop it!”
I can hear the shouting of the crowd and the barking of the guards but it doesn’t matter anymore.
I leap, twist, and shear my hand through the throat of the closest guard.
<Goblin (Lv.12) Defeated.>
Another is before me, and I pierce my hand through his chest.
<Goblin (Lv.16) Defeated.>
A bare neck presents itself and my claws slice across it with ease.
<Goblin (Lv.15) Defeated.>
I dance through them, reaping without thought or effort.
What little is left of my WHITE gown soon becomes RED and I don’t think anymore. RED flies and I see the enemy before me and the enemy quivers in my sight, crawling back in his throne, his little crown sitting all higgly-piggly, but there aren’t any more guards. There’s just the RED, and the meat. And him.
He whimpers under my gaze.
I look down at my hand, covered in RED.
I return my gaze to him, and when I look down at my hand, I find his throat in it. I lift him up, grip tightening.
Do the right thing.
Do the right thing.
Do the right thing.
I do the right thing.
<Emperor of the Sun [BOSS] Defeated.>
I hear breathing. I smell flesh. Warm blood. I see, next to the throne, a little spawning, with a crown on its head and eyes full of the darkness named hatred.
<You have cleared the fifteenth floor.>
<You have received 1 000
points for clearing the floor.
You have received an additional
1 000 points for being the first to clear
the floor.>
I move towards it, my hand of RED emptied of what it once called father, mind buzzing with what needs to be done what has to be done what ought to be done what should be done what will be done.
<For clearing the stage completely,
you will receive an additional reward.>
<To repay your debt,
the additional reward has been
traded for 5 000 points.>
I feel something.
<Chain.>
I blink. Now he’s in front of me. Eyes of darkness, holding one of the spawnings, pointing at me with a sword held in his other hand.
<Responses have been ignored
for the sake of the vote.>
I move to touch him.
<Chain broken.>
He doesn’t move. He doesn’t move. He doesn’t move at all.
I hold out both hands. Spread my arms. Open my chest.
<To repay your debt,
the floor clear reward has been
traded for 1 000 points.>
Through a jaw not held in place,
choking on tears burning down my cheeks,
I say,
“Please.”
<You will now be returned to the lobby.>
The last thing I see before I go away is his eyes,
burning with a darkness named hatred.
Hi!
Author Palt here. I'm sorry to say, but this is the last chapter that will be posted on here, of this version. But! Fret not! This is not the end. Far from it! As we speak, I have edited this entire story to make it into an original piece of fiction, with new names and... that's pretty much it. This new version of the story will be called A Gamer's Guide to Beating the Tutorial, and it is already being published! By the very minute this chapter is out, the same chapter will actually have been published of said original version, meaning that the jump from fanfiction to original will be pretty much instantaneous.
Now, you may be asking, where could I read this story? Yes! Well, that's the thing. I will unfortunately only be posting it to Royalroad, and on my Patreon, (RRL: https://www.royalroad.com/fiction/73205/a-gamers-guide-to-beating-the-tutorial Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/AuthorPalt). In other words, this story is, tragically enough, a stub. Still, if clicking on a link and using RRL to read isn't too much, it will continue right on over there, same time every week, with no break in-between. Heck, if you go to my patreon, there will be a bunch of backlog to read, too! I'm, uh, not entirely sure how much this backlog is since I'm writing this from five months in the past, but, you know. Still.
And that's basically all I had to say! Thank you all for reading until now, you've been great! I hope to see you all on Royalroad, or Patreon!
