User has no status, yet


Someday... Someday I will update this.

Or I can just... putting this song as my bio

"someday, I'll be
Living in big old city..."

Most Recent Posts

After spending a few seconds admiring the craftsmanship of their team symbol, Genor quickly added the item into his pocket before listening to the group of strangers, who he will spend the next few months, probably a year at least, fighting side by side. Saul, Ioxeia, Petra, and something something... To be honest, there were too many faces and so few minutes being spent to remember them. But, that is something he will work on in the near future. What more astonishing was their "positivity." It is too bright. Too beaming for his own liking, a clear contrast from his nihilistic brooding.

But still, when all of these puppies eyes lock on him with excitement and thrill of the adventure to come, Genor couldn't help but to force a smile on himself. Maybe a grimace? Maybe he is just showing how red his gum is? Who knows?

"Genor." The soldier stopped, scratching his chin to think if there is something cool to share about himself. "... Yep. That is pretty much it." He shrugged.

And as the group divided itself into more menial tasks, where the mumbling prayers can be heard and the snores in between the hush voices, Genor decided to hit the canteen and eating something late. The bread was exquisite and the corn was great. The ale was... decent and the atmosphere can't be of any complaint. Still, he didn't sleep very well that night.

It is not because of the future's uncertainty that kept him stirred at night, nor was it the sense of being wronged by Gods gnaws at him. Something stuck in his teeth. And all night, the sound of his tongue working meticulously around the teeth, trying to get this thing out from the space between his canine can be heard.

Yeah, it is that fucking frustrating.

He needs to breathe, that is what his brain said to him when Klein felt that kick in his throat. And although it was only happening in mere seconds and in a simulation no less, the suffocation was sudden enough to force Klein to let go of the frogman, dropping his spear in the process while choking for air. Such a weird experience. To both gasp and to scratch your throat. To open your mouth like a fish. To be a fish on dry land.

But still, he had it better than some of his subordinates. Turning to his right side, where a guy with his whole face sunken inside his skull, Klein couldn't help but grimace at how... real the injuries looks like. His broken and lack of cartilage nose. The golfball size eyes. The unnaturalness of his upper jaw, how sunken it is. Even as a fan of gore and blood, Klein couldn't help but shuddered at the sight, the only way he can express his sympathy.

"Take a rest ok?" Klein said, patting his friend's still shoulder before picking up his spear and take another charge at the frogman. This time, he aimed at the wounds he dealt not so long ago.

He is probably gonna fail.

They are probably gonna all die.

But good mental change lives, Klein reminded himself before picking up pace, charging toward the frogman.


Despite being a simulation, Klein's brain reacted just as if it was hurled across the sky. Act on its own will, his body curled into a ball, bracing for the imminent impact against the ground. And while a part of him wants to see how much damage he would take, his hands had already covered most of his face, deeming the sacrifice of these limbs a good trade-off in order to ensure his protection.

But such trade-off was never needed as Klein found himself being caught by Ames.

"Wow, my hero," Klein says jokingly to Ames, who just waste his channeling time to save Klein from getting a few more scars. But just as he was about to crack some more jokes, a gust of winds blew across his face, reminding him of the dire situation they currently in. Well, maybe not too dire in the sense that they can redo it as long as they want. But the thought of just wasting 3 hours without save sends chills and disappointment down his spine.

But without a lack of understanding of what Raime's trying to accomplish, Klein just assumed the human missile is doing something impressive. And it is Klein's duty as a tank to give his teammates the opportunity to do so.

So, grabbing the spear that was knock off from him not so long ago, the barbarian begins to run after the humanoid wind. But this time, instead of getting into the proper forms and stuff, he just ran to build up some momentum before lunging to the air and try to grapple the frogs from behind. In Klein's imagination, both of his arms would go under the frogman's arms before raising the spear under its jaw, strangling it from behind. Meanwhile, his legs would lock himself onto the frog, preventing him from being thrown off of its back.

"Kill it," Klein shouts, knowing full well that the more damage he took, the stronger his passive become.

To be honest, Klein should have played more defensively against the frogman. He should have stick with the squishy while the boss's abilities and capabilities are still an enigma to the whole group. And looking at how Raymond is literally squirming on the ground right now, Klein had just made a very large mistake. Still, the attack reveals some pieces of information about the boss. Firstly is its ungodly amount of strength. And secondly, its dexterity and athletic. While he knew that Magpie had reached the strength equivalent to 5 grown man combine, he was still under the notion that the crater was something not even 5 men could achieve in a single punch.

Underpower and heavily out-levels, Klein decided to position himself just in front of Amulak and Raymond. His stance is low. His right leg plants in front, declaring this small 3 to 3.5 meters circle to be Klein's ground. His spear places in front of him, raising upward to the oversize opponents, instead of over the shoulder for a strike, fully embracing his defensive role in this position. And with the frogman turning its back against him, Klein throws some thrusts toward its back. Left shoulder and right shoulder were the targets for the first two quick strikes before following with a lunge at the right hip and thigh.

As the lines decrease and the chatter grounded to a halt as people found their regiments, Genor found himself to be more excited for the prospect of his name simply an error to the bureaucrat system. It was not the first time a cook was assigned to the front line nor was it the last time a priest accidentally take the position of a commander's servant. And the more he thinks about it, the truer it becomes. The exit light seems to grow brighter, and the atmosphere less hostile as he grew to accept the fact that he will not be draft.

And with that fact in mind, Genor decided to take a look around himself, simply gazing the few remaining "lucky" to satisfy the curiosity of a survivor. A plague doctor. 2 priests. A man with very prominent split chin. Looks funny actually when seen up close but Genor himself isn't any better so he paid him no mind. A lancer, and a girl with whatever in her hand? A peculiar group.

And another figure came, asking them to follow him, so Genor did. But in his mind, what need to say is already spoken.

"We are sincerely thank you for your time and efforts in aiding the Fifth Crusade. But, as it stands, your services are currently not needed. This is not to say that your effort was in vain and the time you spent to reach Zion was unnoticed,..."

"You may be wondering why you aren’t in a large group like the others... You are all here because you were chosen-- Abaddon, the announcer, and the sergeants already knew who their team was before the crowd was even assorted and I too knew as well," said the man in white. Their lieutenant.

Now that sentence is what Genor didn't expect. The lieutenant should have come and said that there are no need for them, perhaps even thank them for enrolling. But saying that they were chosen for a specific task, a group of no-name fodder with close to no cooperation, was out of this world.

So, as others pledge their allegiance and how "God wills it" for them to be the first group, Genor just said "Yes Sir" without much sign of protest. In fact, somewhat at ease if things need to be put in perspective.

After the first hard-fought battle which should have ended the whole team, the following fights were much easier when Amulak, Magpie, and Raymond were able to put some points in their stats. And although never a fan of sashimi or sushi due to concern over the preparation, Klein was able to consume 5 monsters raw. With half of his requirement fulfilled, he only needed to sleep in the wilderness before getting the Mountain Men class.

On another note, the nuclei were somewhat overpowered from Klein's perspective. Klein would just went in, soaked as much damage as he can then let the nuclei popped. Of course, there was some kappa that refused to attack him and chose to focus the backline instead. Luckily enough, the spear he picked up from one of the previous drops allows him to be relevant without the nuclei usage. Aside from that, he also dialed the pain percentage from 40% to a meager 5%. The value was good enough to keep him on his toes while not causing too much distraction when gruesome lacerations and muscles displacements happen.

And just as Klein about to call it a day, the team faces another boss. A martial artist frog looking boss. Judging from its appearances alone, it is definitely a boss. A raid boss, even. But with how easy these past fights had been going, Klein grew some cockiness in his spine and chose to fight, despite the obvious level difference.

"I'm good," Klein said before standing behind Mag, and launch himself after the woman as she started sprinting. Although the stats difference between the two made it difficult for Klein to be right after her, his speed was enough to be the second line of defense. The plan was simple, block for Mag, let the nuclei popped, and chiseled the boss down. Simple plan. Simple life. Easy to follow.

"All in." The man said, pushing all his chips to the middle the table.

"Fold," said another man.

"Same here." Said another before slamming his deck of cards on the table. "Man, you should wash your hand. My deck smells like shite today." He grumbles before protectively reach out to rearrange his chips.

"Ain't my bad you dumb." Said the deck handler before looking toward the final guy on the table, "how about you, Genor? All in?"

"Nah, I fold." Said the one-eye man before handing back the cards.

It is during these days that the soldiers found themselves nothing to do. The Crusade had just ended, and with that, nothing to fight against. While some decided to pay a visit to their family or outright calling a retire, for most soldiers here, who survived the Fourth Crusade, the barrack is their house. And of course, with the rumor of the Fifth Crusade just around the corner, the barrack welcomed a new wave of new faces and babbling babies. So while the commanders getting ready for the recruit's routine and daily training exercise, these veterans found themselves almost nothing to do with. Especially in the middle of noon in this blasting desert.

"You think we are gonna get draft for the next crusade?" Arthur asked before giving each man his deck. Something to keep the convo going, he thinks while handing out the cards.

"Nah," said Arab, "we got John on our side. He should give us something easy. He owed us."

"I don't know," said Genor, before slamming his deck of cards just as he picks it up. "Again?"

Genor didn't know what he was expecting when he started packing up his stuff. Goodbye? Condolences? A warm farewell party? Maybe all of that. But all he greeted with was the snoring from his teammates and the morning dew of the desert. Like a good soldier, he had fought for this city. He did missions without any questions, carrying out each order like a sentient golem. And like any sane person, he thought it was enough. That, finally, after all these fighting, he deserved some rest, perhaps a dispatch but with pay, or even a title if the commanders and the lords would be so generous of his work.

And this is what he gets?

The Fifth Crusade?

A chance to kill more demons? For what? To spike them on his field back home like a scarecrow?

The man sits on his bunk bed, rocking himself front and back, soundless words made its presence in the morning light. He was shivering in the middle of the desert, a lonely man in the city of millions. Nobody knew him. Nobody knew what was going on in his brain. And as such, when he picking up his belongings and headed toward the wall opening, no one said goodbye.

The only goodbye he heard was the rusty bunk bed giving its final groan, and Abram's sleep talking. So maybe goodbye, just not the sensible one.


And when the kappa opened its maw, revealing its sharp teeth littering inside its beak, everything freeze.

Without much saying, as if he was waiting for this moment, Klein shoved his whole right arm into the kappa's mouth, an opening that he believed to be the kappa's doom. A thousand red lines glaze across his skin. And instantly after that, the thick scarlet liquid begins to ooze from the opening, filling the kappa what it sought after. But Klein doesn't stop there.

He doesn't attempt to break free from its grip.

He embraces it.

So he goes deeper, to no man's land. His hand goes through the tongue, letting it wraps against the Chuck Norris' muscles. And it was barely a fraction of a second before the hand made a breakthrough the kappa's pharynx and enter its esophagus. And then, he starts wreaking havoc.

Now, I would like for you to imagine. Imagine a man who could extend his jaw so large that he is able to eat another grown man's fist. And then, he is just choking on this person's fist as this stranger keeps ramming his fist toward his esophagus. Like he is in pain for having his organ being damage, his pharynx trying its best to regurgitate this massively large unidentified object from the digestive tract, and his jaws trying to close itself so he could somehow swallow it. But this stranger keeps beating him down and the pharynx is the pathway needed for both breathing and swallowing. So here we are, witnessing a dude choking on another dude's arm.

And this is what Klein's doing to the kappa, inserting more and more of his arm's length inside the kappa. Pounding it more and more from the inside. The link that forms between them, the kappa's hands gripped against Klein's throat grew stronger and stronger as well.

It is the only thing that stopped Klein's from inserting his whole arm in one go. It is the only tool available for the Kappa to kill Klein.

So, enemies to the death lock their eyes onto each other. A 2.2 meters tall giant atop of a humanoid with turtle-back. The wind breeze blow between them, carrying the dandelions to somewhere far. The grass, soft and a little bit messy from the fight. Cattails moves and frogs ribbits. And the river flows to somewhere. But the pounding never stops, and so does the force being applied on one's throat.

In some morbid sense, it is "Till death do us part."

© 2007-2017
BBCode Cheatsheet