-Classified correspondence between the WHA and WSA-

  Gotta’s definition of much time needs work. Less than a day later and we are at another Oasis. This one is nearly three times larger than the last one. According to Gotta, the entire world is a desert, not sure if I buy that, but either way, he said that there are large networks of cities spaced apart, by ‘much time’.

  Anyway, it seems like from what he described, each small city is perfectly spaced in the shape of a triangle, the center of that triangle is a larger hub which has a ‘chosen one’, a person that talks on behalf of the Marorak and is connected to them. Whatever that means.

  “Fucking bullshit,” Greymore grumbles under his breath, “This better not be a wild goose chase.”

  “Relax, old man,” Clayton says, tossing one of his daggers and catching the tip.

  “We’ve been waiting three hours,” Greymore sighs, tapping his foot.

  “Yeah, but, on the bright side, it didn’t take that long to get here,” I counter.

  Mira comes to my side, “Darling, the one over there, he smells like that whore’s asshole.”

  “You spent a lot of time near whore’s asses?” I jest and Cortez snickers before straightening.

  “It’s an expression,” Mira says, sighing, “The system translation must be wrong, it’s not meant to be funny. I’m talking about your servant, the one who is obsessed with me.”

  “I think the translation is fine,” I smile, rolling my neck, “Also, I don’t think he’s actually obsessed with you. What’s your meaning though?”

  She slants her gaze at me, “It means be wary, there’s a reason that whore’s asshole stinks. Perhaps it is connected to this one now. Such things have a way of spreading.”

  Cortez laughs and straightens again. Mira shoots her a mean glance.

  “As I said before, perhaps the translation is off. Words do not always transfer well.”

  The translation might be a little off, but I think we get the gist of what she’s saying. According to Mira, Drakaroth can smell more than odors, they can smell intentions. Not sure if that’s bullshit, and with Sera back I can’t ask Sage.

  That annoying goddess Sera is looking at the people in this city with a tilted head, she hasn’t spoken since she showed up earlier today, she seems curious about the structures around them as well.

  This city is organized differently than the other one, there appears to be certain patterns to the building structures. All of them coalesce on a singular point in the center, right where the yellow colored Marorakian is. The one that Mira says smells very distinct. The very same one that we’ve been waiting to meet. According to Gotta, he’s communing with the Marorak so we can’t disturb him. In truth I’m pretty sure he’s taking a nap.

  ***

  He was definitely taking a fucking nap. His eyes looks strange, more puffy than the others, bloodshot, and he keeps itching all over his body like he’s got some kind of allergic reaction.

  “The Marorak speaks through me, star wanderer. It seeks to understand why you have come to its world,” he says, his name is… well I’ll just call him Gottatwo.

  Swallowing, I fire up the bullshitter 3,000. “We have heard of the glory of the Marorak and wish to commune directly with them and…”

  My words catch short, a pop-up interrupts me, a purple one.

  [ Notice: Private Nexus Access Restored ]

  Oh shit, Mythren must have finished up whatever he was doing. When I get some free time, I need to go and check out the Chaos Emporium. Does that also mean I’ll get Abyss back soon?

  The yellow Marorakian Gottatwo is squinting at me with his oversized eyeballs. Clearing my throat, “As I was saying, we want to meet the Marorak, so that we may…”

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  Another pop up appears in my vision, interrupting me.

  [ Notice: Amended Divine Item Returning ]

  “So that you may?” the yellow Marokain says, strangely he said it quickly, by their standard at least.

  “Pay respect to them directly,” Cortez finishes for me.

  Amended divine item is definitely Abyss coming back, but not like the last time I received it right? Last time I got Abyss delivered, half a block was restructured from hurricane Ulana. I don’t really want the express shipping option if it spooks this Marorak into hiding.

  “Mythren,” I whisper, looking around, “Do you think you could not make a scene, please?”

  Mythren unsurprisingly doesn’t reply.

  “The Marorak agrees,” Gottatwo says after some clicks and lip smacks, “But it requires you to complete its rite of passage.”

  “Rite of passage?” Cortez asks.

  “You must all drink from the holy font, only then will the Marorak make itself known to you.”

  “Is there another option?” she queries, shooting me a look.

  None of us are going to be willing to drink whatever is on tap here. Our resident try anything guy is currently shitting himself for living up to his mantra, try everything and be adventurous. Or as me and Barlow corrected him one night, be a dumbass and pray it doesn’t bite you in the ass.

  He gurgles before clicking faster than I’ve seen any of them do before, “It is a great honor that the Marorak offers.”

  “Right, well, lead the way,” I sigh.

  Cortez grabs my arm, whispering, “You’re not seriously considering drinking anything they offer, right?”

  “Let’s just see where this leads us.”

  “Jimmy,” she groans, “Don’t do anything stupid.”

  “I don’t have my debuff anymore, relax,” I lean in, “Also, I might be getting Abyss delivered soon. Not sure what that means.”

  Her eyes widen, “Now?”

  “Soon, I’m guessing.”

  She looks down, her brow furrowing like she’s thinking, “Maybe we can use it to our advantage if it is a big shitstorm.”

  I raise my eyebrow, “I like the way you think.”

  “Follow,” Gottatwo says.

  We move slowly behind him, Mwangi and Greymore are close to me, both looking around cautiously. Gilroy ended up staying with Tran, so did Dorliac, she was worried Verantha wouldn’t actually heal anyone. With my healing skill back, we didn’t technically need her to come. That and Greymore assured me his team could handle anything short of a resurrection.

  Wish Barlow had come, would have given me time to figure out what’s going on with him. He was worried that Tran would cause problems in our absence and didn’t want to leave him in such a state alone. He pretends that he doesn’t like Tran most days, but they’ve been friends for a long time. When shit hits the fan, they always show up.

  Gottatwo and his entourage lead us down a small pipelike tunnel that has small glass viewports in it. The sun’s light casts through the water, making wavy patterns on the walls. There’s strange clumps of black matter near the bottom of the pool of water. Not sure what it is exactly.

  “That is rancid,” Mira says, holding her arm over her nose and gagging, “It has definitely spread.”

  She’s not wrong, whatever she was smelling, I’m also starting to smell, and it smells foul. Like unwashed ballsack dipped in depression and Dorito dust.

  “That’s horrible,” Cortez gags, tying a bandana around her face.

  Sera comes to my side, tracing a finger on my shoulder. She’s lucky that she’s not really here, the smell is only getting worse. She speaks into my mind.

  I could end this quest if you like?

  “Price?”

  You’d owe me another favor.

  “Pass.”

  She rolls her eyes and prances down the tunnel.

  Deep beneath the city, under the Oasis, we finally reach the alleged holy font. As I stare at the repository that distributes the font, I can’t help but think the only holy thing this font has ever seen was the butthole that shit it out.

  Stinking gases plop from a pool of deep black liquid that almost sounds like screams when the gas rises to the surface. Gottatwo falls to his knees before the font and starts… oh jeez. Scooping it up and…

  “This is the holy font?” I ask, grimacing at the stench.

  He turns, eyes wider, sludge dripping down his chin. His response is somewhat strange, the clicks, smacks and pops are coming out at an alarming rate as he says, “What have you done! You have defiled the holy Marorak!”

  I blink at him, “Huh?”

  His yellow skin shifts to an irritated red hue, the twenty other people with him start shifting to be the same.

  “Misfortune to the intruders! They have doomed us!”

  Sera smirks looking at the horde that files down the winding stairwell and encircles us.

  Not too late to take my offer, Marauder.

  “Fuck off,” I growl under my breath, readying myself. There must be a solution, otherwise Sera wouldn’t offer a way out. She doesn’t want me to get a Respec token, not without paying her in endless favors.

  They’re all chanting with the same sloppy lisp smacking language. But something is off, something is… weird.

  “Aren’t they going to attack?” Clayton asks, spinning his daggers.

  They’re clearly mad, and very clearly saying misfortune to the intruders, but not a single one has made an aggressive action. They’re just chanting at us…

  “Fucking pacifists,” Greymore spits, circling his hand in the air, “On me, urchin formation!”

  His team condenses ranks around us, forming a sphere with rifles pointed outwards. They step in unison, calling out in cadence so none miss it. Like a well oiled machine we move slowly toward the exit, no one fires, none of the Marorakians even try to so much as step toward us.

  There’s a loud and shrill scream that suddenly erupts from the air, Gottatwo, he’s still kneeling, clutching his throat. The others look at him and start… weeping? All of them begin to scream as well.

  “You’ve doomed us!” they all chant.

  A series of text boxes appears in my vision.

  [ Quest Completed, Congratulations Hunter. ]

  [ Congratulations, you have leveled up. ]

  [ Congratulations, you have leveled up. ]

  [ Congratulations, you have leveled up. ]

  [ Establishing connection… ]

  “What the fuck…”

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