The day was refreshing, bringing a sensation I hadn't felt in weeks. As I prepared for my morning bath, I muttered to myself, "150 litres of glue, 150 litres of water, 600 millilitres of borax solution..."
Being a Dafael angel meant borrowing our shell from the appearance and biology of humans, but also requiring a physical object from Kagal. When I fell from grace, it was into a puddle of slime—an oddly specific fate that I couldn't help but wonder if I had orchestrated through time travel. Everything happens for a reason, doesn't it?
I mixed up my fresh batch of slime and soaked myself in the thick, gelatinous liquid. Using water to bathe would cause my skin to melt off and expose my nerves—a painfully uncomfortable sensation. That's why I took slime baths and maintained a huge storage of slime in my apartment. The cool, thick slime enveloped me in a comforting embrace. The faint hum of the city outside was a distant murmur, creating a stark contrast to the quiet sanctuary of my bathroom.
As I relaxed in the slime, my thoughts drifted back to the journal I had read. The messages were cryptic, not my usual writing style, but I understood the need for such an approach in case someone else read it. The journal wasn't locked, and the first page stated that my future self knew I wouldn't rebel against the order in the book, given its severe implications. I still wondered what would happen if I did, but it wasn't a risk I was willing to take. I had chosen to trust myself... or rather, my future self.
As I sank deeper into the slime, I felt a wave of conflicting emotions wash over me—regret for the choices that led me here and cautious optimism for what lay ahead. Trusting my future self was a gamble, but it was a risk I had to take.
Rising from the bath, I gently touched the liquid, altering its composition until it became more watery. I have the ability to change the ratios of the ingredients in the slime. As the mixture drained from the bath, I dressed in my green tight suit. My skin is sensitive to temperature, so I had to customize my own clothing. The tight suit is my usual choice, providing the necessary protection and flexibility.
I secured my belt filled with gadgets and set off outside. Lizy was waiting downstairs, her bright smile a welcome sight.
"Morning, Lizy,” I greeted her with a warm smile, matching her enthusiasm.
“Morning, Miss RoseBud!” she replied, her eyes sparkling with excitement. The early morning light bathed us in a warm glow, setting the perfect atmosphere for the day ahead. Then, her expression shifted to concern. "Are you feeling better after yesterday?"
"Yes, I am," I assured her, though my mind lingered on the secret encounter. "Ready to go?"
"Absolutely!" she beamed, anticipation clear in her voice.
We left the quiet developed city of western Oriken behind and ventured into the bustling town center. An imposing angel statue stood tall, its bronze wings catching the light and casting intricate shadows on the cobblestones. The statue towered above us, a reminder of the power and influence RubberBand once held.
The statue commemorated RubberBand's arrival in Oriken, her outstretched wings bathed in the golden light of the setting sun. She built this place, and people called her the pure angel. They did not know, however, that she was not pure at all; her powers could be as destructive as they were miraculous. The air was filled with the sounds of street vendors calling out their wares, the aroma of street food wafting through the air, and the vibrant colors of market stalls, creating a lively tapestry.
Lizy looked up at the statue with a mixture of awe and curiosity, her eyes reflecting the golden glow of the angel's wings. “It’s hard to believe someone so loved would just leave like that,” she murmured, her voice tinged with sadness. I couldn’t help but reflect on RubberBand’s legacy and the hidden burdens that even the most revered must carry.
I nodded, my mind flashing back to countless conversations with RubberBand. Lizy wouldn’t understand her reasoning or the layers of complexity behind her decisions. But I did, at least a little. I felt a hint of sympathy for RubberBand, her burdens hidden beneath a facade of purity. "There's always more beneath the surface than what people choose to see."
The area here was less developed, with shorter buildings and even more alleyways adorned with vibrant graffiti. This was a popular spot for tourists biking to the statue from Scengal Beach, where stalls lined the path selling various products.
As we approached the statue, the bustling market atmosphere surrounded us. Vendors called out, advertising their wares, and the scent of street food wafted through the air. Lizy's eyes lit up as she spotted a stall selling colorful trinkets.
"Can we stop for a moment?" She asked, pointing towards the stall with a hopeful look in her eyes. "I've been saving up to buy one of those." Her eagerness was palpable, a brief escape from the weight of our meeting.
I smiled warmly. "Of course, go ahead. We have some time before LoggerHead arrives."
Lizy hurried over to the stall, her enthusiasm bringing warmth to my heart. As I waited, I took in the sights and sounds of the town centre. My mind wandered back to the journal and the cryptic messages it contained. My emerald eyes clouded with concern, and I absentmindedly twisted a strand of my long green hair around my finger. The weight of my future self’s secrets hung heavily on my shoulders, but I forced a smile, maintaining my composed facade.
LoggerHead appeared in sight, a stark contrast to the vibrant market around us. With purposeful strides, he approached, with an unmistakable glint of mischief in his eyes. His farmer's hat, adorned with a half-translucent cloth, added an air of mystery, while the stick he carried for picking fruit from tall trees hinted at his resourcefulness. His patched grey t-shirt and short jeans, combined with sturdy boots, gave him a rustic yet quirky look. As he moved, the sunlight caught the reddish tint in his grey hair, adding to his distinctive presence.
"RoseBud," he greeted, his voice steady but laced with a hint of playful urgency.
"LoggerHead," I replied, feeling the weight of the moment. "Thank you for coming. We have much to discuss."
He nodded, glancing around to ensure no one was listening. The half-translucent cloth attached to his hat added an eerie atmosphere as it fluttered gently with his movements. “Let’s find a quieter place to talk,” he suggested, a sly smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. “Can’t have our secrets spilled in the middle of a market, can we?”
As Lizy returned, her new trinket clutched in her hand, we moved to a nearby alley, away from the hustle and bustle of the market.
Once we were in the shadowed quiet of the alley, LoggerHead broke the silence first. "Alright, spill it. Need food? Delivery? Or maybe some top-secret intel?" He tried to maintain his usual calm demeanour, but his voice wavered slightly, the strain evident as he masked it with his trademark cheekiness.
“Max, I am talking to Max here,” I said firmly, my voice cutting through his pretense like a knife. My eyes locked onto his, demanding the honesty I knew he often tried to hide. He flinched slightly, a rare crack in his façade, and I remembered the countless times we had relied on each other in moments of crisis.
His expression shifted entirely, frustration and pain flashing in his eyes. "What is the deal, Yoyo?"
I held out a letter retrieved from the folder. The instructions were clear—I needed to give it to LoggerHead as Max.
He took the letter cautiously, his hands trembling slightly as he unfolded it. His eyes darted over the contents, and I watched as confusion and recognition flickered across his face, a storm of emotions brewing within.
"I see," he murmured, his voice barely audible as he handed me the letter. His hands trembled slightly, betraying the calm pretence he tried to maintain. For the first time, I read its contents.
"Karthenia will never return to Oriken," it stated in stark, unambiguous words. "But travel alongside RoseBud, see where it goes, and you will meet her again. Follow the flow."
A pang of confusion hit me. This contradicted everything I had been told—it said I should travel with LoggerHead, not the other way around. My thoughts raced, trying to make sense of the words. Unless... we were meant to embark on two separate paths that somehow intertwined, leading us to a shared destiny.
I took a deep breath, steeling myself. The fabric of my tightsuit stretched comfortably as I squared my shoulders, and my ponytail swayed gently with the motion.
"We will depart in 10 minutes," I stated firmly, my voice carrying a newfound resolve. The mixture of fear and determination churned within me, but I pushed it aside. My emotions no longer controlled me; instead, a fierce determination settled over me, guiding my actions.
"We will go south. Lizy, can you lead the way?"
Lizy's eyes widened in surprise, her fingers clutching the trinket she had just bought. "Wait, how did you know I know—"
I gave her a reassuring smile. "You are from Axerith, you know the way."
Her face softened, a mix of surprise and recognition dawning on her. "Yes, I am from Axerith. But how did you—"
I interrupted gently, my smile growing. "I always pay attention to the details."
The surprise on her face weakened a little, as if it seemed that she had underestimated me. "I always thought you didn't know," she said softly, almost to herself.
I nodded. "There are many things I learn through careful observation and reading," I thought to myself, recalling the details I'd discovered in the journal.
Her eyes sparkled with a blend of emotions—relief, curiosity, and determination. "Well, it's time to show you my home!" she said, her voice filled with a new sense of purpose.
As we prepared to leave, a sense of anticipation tingled in the air, hinting at something monumental ahead. With a final nod, we stepped out of the alley and headed south through the bustling town centre.
The narrow streets of Oriken were crowded, making it difficult to move quickly. The air was filled with a symphony of sounds: vendors shouting their wares, children laughing, and the occasional clatter of a dropped item. We manoeuvred through the throng of people, our senses on high alert. The market's vibrant colors assaulted our senses, with stalls brimming with exotic fruits and spices. The lively chatter and laughter contrasted sharply with the tension tightening within our group, like a storm brewing beneath a sunny sky.
Suddenly, a loud crash echoed through the street ahead, followed by panicked screams. Lizy's eyes widened in fear, but I grabbed her arm, pulling her close.
"Who wants to fight me?!" a man bellowed as he emerged into our view, his voice cutting through the chaos. Behind him, a man lay unconscious, crushed by a wheeled stall that had clearly been hurled at him.
In Justitia, anarchy reigned, and the public bore the responsibility of maintaining order—a harsh system that required everyone to act as both enforcer and protector.
"Go check on him, Lizy. Log and I will handle this," I instructed, pointing at the man trapped under the cart. Without hesitation, Lizy sprinted to aid him, her determination cutting through the chaos.
"It's been a while since we fought together, hasn't it?" Max, now fully embodying his LoggerHead persona, grinned. His demeanour was a blend of cheekiness and innocence, the latter surprising me with its resilience. His hat tilted slightly as he spun his fruit-picking stick with a flourish.
"Let's show these bandits that strength isn't everything!" he declared, his voice tinged with playful confidence.
Seeing two of the four Dafael angels ready to fight together was enough to lift my spirits. "Why not?" I agreed, pulling two compression cubes from my belt. In an instant, they expanded into a hoverboard and a telekinesis gun. My composed facade remained intact, an asset in combat, much like Max's cheeky confidence.
The bandit lunged at us with a wild swing of his club, but LoggerHead intercepted with a swift parry, the fruit-picking stick blocking the blow effortlessly. With a quick flick, he disarmed the assailant, sending the club clattering to the ground. His movements were fluid and precise, a testament to his unique blend of skill and mischief. The patches on his shorts seemed to catch the light, adding a colorful blur to his swift movements.
I jumped onto the hoverboard, its hum reassuring beneath my feet, and activated the telekinesis gun. With a simple thought, I lifted another bandit off the ground and hurled him into a nearby cart, the impact knocking him out cold. The hoverboard's smooth glide and the gun's responsive power gave me a sense of control amidst the chaos. My green tightsuit glowed under the sun, its sleek design emphasizing my swift, precise movements. My long ponytail whipped around as I dodged and countered attacks, my emerald eyes focused and unyielding.
The leader of the bandits snarled, rallying his remaining men. "You think you can stand against us? You're outnumbered!"
LoggerHead laughed, the sound sharp and confident. "Numbers don't matter when you don't know who you're dealing with," he taunted, his eyes glinting with mischief.
He charged forward, a blur of motion as he ducked and weaved through the attackers, his stick striking with pinpoint accuracy. I provided cover, using the telekinesis gun to hurl obstacles and disarm foes from a distance. The synergy between us was palpable—a dance of coordinated strikes and defences.
Lizy, having ensured the safety of the injured man, rejoined us with a determined look. "Need a hand?"
"Always," I replied, tossing her a small device from my belt. She caught it with practiced ease, immediately understanding its purpose. She activated it to form a shimmering energy shield around us, the barrier flickering with protective light.
The bandits faltered, their confidence waning as they faced our united front.
Within moments, we had subdued them, their weapons scattered across the ground and their spirits visibly broken.
Breathing heavily, we regrouped, the adrenaline still coursing through our veins. The chaos of the fight slowly faded, leaving us in a momentary calm, each of us reflecting on what had just transpired.
Lizy's chest heaved as she panted, her eyes wide with exhilaration. "That was intense!"
LoggerHead chuckled, wiping the sweat from his brow. "Not really, was it?" he replied, his tone light and mischievous, the translucent cloth of his hat fluttering as he spoke, masking the exertion of the fight with playful bravado.
Maintaining my composed facade, I suggested, "Maybe we should keep heading onward?" My smile felt more convincing now.
Max caught the underlying meaning, his eyes narrowing slightly, though a cheeky smile played at his lips. "Well, RoseBud, what if we don't?"
"That wouldn't be very nice, would it, LoggerHead?" I replied, my tone carrying a hint of playful reprimand.
To an outsider, our conversation might seem oddly disconnected from the gravity of our situation, but it was the only way we could cope with our reality.
Lizy quickly caught on to our banter. "Let's go then!" she urged, her voice filled with excitement. Her eyes sparkled with eagerness, a stark contrast to the tension that had just filled the air.
I shrank my gun and tucked it back into my belt bag, then hopped onto my hoverboard. LoggerHead made a series of hand signs, and with a flourish, a pair of wings sprouted from his back, their iridescent feathers catching the light as he took to the air.
Lizy mounted her scooter, her eyes gleaming with competitive spirit. Her triangular brown cape billowed behind her, and her red strangs of hair streamed in the wind. I adjusted my belt filled with gadgets, my tightsuit feeling snug and ready for action. LoggerHead's hat fluttered slightly as he floated in the air, just about three stories above us.
"First to the port wins!" she shouted, her voice echoing through the narrow alleyways. The challenge in her tone was unmistakable, adding a burst of energy to our departure.
With a shared nod, we took off at a breakneck pace. The thrill of the impromptu race invigorated our steps, propelling us forward through the narrow alleyways and towards our destination —the Scengal ship dock.
The cityscape of Oriken blurred around us, the vibrant colours and bustling activity melting into a tapestry of motion. Each of us was focused on reaching our destination first, driven by a shared sense of excitement and competition.
LoggerHead soared above, his wings a blur against the sky, giving him a clear advantage. Below, Lizy maneuvered through the winding streets with impressive agility, her scooter zipping through narrow gaps and sharp turns. I leaned into my hoverboard, using its manoeuvrability to keep up with my friends.
The city's hustle and bustle created a symphony of sounds: the distant chatter of market vendors, the clatter of bicycles, and the ever-present sea breeze carrying the scent of saltwater and possibility.
As we neared the port, the salty sea air filled our lungs, and the distant sound of waves crashing against the shore grew louder.
We reached the dock, and Lizy was the first to arrive, her scooter skidding to a halt on the wooden planks. LoggerHead landed gracefully beside her, folding his wings with a satisfied grin. I glided in last, maintaining my composed facade despite my competitive spirit.
"Good job, guys!" I cheered, embracing the friendly competition. I took a deep breath of the salty air, but beneath my smile, a sense of anxiety lingered—an unspoken concern about the path ahead.
"Here is my boat," Lizy announced, gesturing towards a sleek vessel bobbing gently in the water. The boat, though modest in size, looked sturdy and well-equipped for our journey. The deck, however, was cluttered with supplies hastily packed for the trip.
"Impressive," I commented, stepping closer to inspect it.
LoggerHead nodded in agreement, his eyes twinkling with curiosity and approval. "I gotta hand it to Lizy," he quipped, a cheeky grin spreading across his face. "She's outdone herself this time. Of course, it takes a discerning eye like mine to truly appreciate the artistry at play here." I shot him a quick side-eye, and he responded with an even wider grin, clearly enjoying his moment of playful banter.
The dock was alive with activity, the sounds of creaking ropes and seagulls overhead blending into the background.
Without wasting any time, Lizy began organizing the deck, her nimble fingers swiftly sorting through the gear with practiced ease. I joined her, helping to tidy up and stow away the necessary items. We worked in sync, our movements efficient and purposeful.
"We need to get everything in order before we set off," Lizy said, her voice focused.
"Absolutely," I replied, appreciating her meticulous nature. With a composed and diligent tone, I added, "Organization is key to a successful trip," a statement that resonated with the disciplined attitude I always strive to maintain, though I admittedly wasn't sure what it meant either.
LoggerHead, on the other hand, was already checking the navigation equipment, his expression playful. "Oh, we're gonna be more than ready," he declared with a wink. "I've got my eye on everything, so rest easy, ladies. This ship's gonna sail like a dream!" His playful confidence was a welcome counterbalance to my underlying tension.
After a few minutes of swift organisation, the deck soon transformed from a cluttered mess to a well-ordered space, one that I at least could accept. Lizy nodded in satisfaction, her eyes reflecting a mix of determination and excitement.
"All set!" The gentle rocking of the boat and the rhythmic lapping of waves against the hull added to the anticipation of our departure.
We climbed onto the boat, each of us taking in our surroundings. The deck was now tidy and ready for our adventure. Lizy went to the helm, her hands steady on the controls.
"Back home I go!" she said, her voice filled with anticipation as she looked out over the water. The horizon stretched out before us, full of possibilities and mysteries waiting to be uncovered.
Maintaining my cheerful facade, I smiled and responded, "Yes, it is time. And we're ready for it."
Lizy started the engine, The boat roared to life with a gentle hum, the vibrations traveling up through my feet and into the air. As we set off from the dock, the horizon stretched out before us, full of possibilities and mysteries waiting to be uncovered.
I kept my clam facade in place, a mask of calm determination. Beneath it, a storm of doubts and fears churned. Each step forward felt like walking on a tightrope, the abyss of failure waiting below. But I knew that my optimism, real or feigned, was the glue holding our fragile hope together. The journey ahead was uncertain, but I felt more determined than ever to face whatever lay ahead.
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