Chapter 20
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I can bop if I want to.
As far as Samson knows, I am on my farm, completing what has been my late morning routine for the past week or so. When I wake up, at a modest nine-thirty as of late, I head to my farm to tend my crops. I harvest whatever’s ready, then I clean up a bit of land until I get bored.
Which happens quickly.
How much dirt and water and seeds can one girl really take, right?
Upon the arrival of boredom, I return to Samson around noon, and we have lunch before deciding what we’ll do together afterward. Usually the mines, occasionally foraging, which results in canning or drying.
It’s a beautiful schedule.
It’s so domestic.
A perfect husband-and-wife schedule.
I really need to learn how to cook in this world.
I also need to con more people into being my friends so I can get their recipes.
Bribery may be a terrible foundation for a relationship, but Samson and I are actual friends now.
My bribery is out in the open. And ya girl knows his entire list of favorite foods by heart.
I’d be a fool not to start a habit of cooking for him and wifeying myself up.
After I get my sword and my puppies, making money and gathering resources will be so much easier…which means I’ll be able to work toward my Ultimate Devious Plot.
Marriage.
In Vale of Gems, when you attain the eight friendship hearts with someone, you can enter a relationship, which adds two romantic heart events to the story arc.
Once you’ve obtained the full ten heart events, you can make a special request with Mimet.
The following week, she sells you a circlet that you fit with gems of your choosing, using the language of gems to craft the perfect, unique proposal offering.
Upon presentation, and assuming that all relationship requirements have been met, you get engaged.
Then you have to talk to Lazul, pick a wedding location, blah blah blah.
I’ve always wanted to get married on the lavish island that you unlock after building Laumon his dream boat.
Which, again, costs money and resources.
And would take me five million years to accomplish if I rely on quartz, produce, and my starter pick.
I’m sorry, Samson. My ambitions are quite extravagant, and a woman in love is entirely too formidable to die to a big pink slime.
Filled with determination, I lift my hand to knock on Slate’s front door, but it whips open before I get the chance.
Eyes wild, Slate beams at me. “Morning, Citrus.”
My thoughts stumble, because I am still not used to altering the code and prompting my own unique scripts. “M-morning.”
He plops his comparatively scrawny shoulder against the door jamb. “What can I help you with this fine Friday?”
An excellent question.
I take a deep breath, then I blurt, “There’s something I want to do that involves throwing a bomb at something, and you’re the only person in town crazy enough to maybe—” I stammer. “—I mean, not crazy. I didn’t mean crazy. That came out wrong. C-can I start again? I—”
His gloved hand lands firmly on my shoulder, and he fixes me with an austere look. “Citrus, Citrus, Citrus…” He grins. “I am crazy. Who do you want to throw a bomb at? Austin?”
I gag. “Wh-what? N-no. Why would you think that?”
“He lets me use the forge sometimes. Lately, he’s been grumbling about you. I hear you called him an emotionally-immature chipmunk.”
Heat floods my face at the realization both Samson and I have very unique terms for insult. We’re basically an old married couple already.
“I applaud the creativity,” Slate notes. Pulling his hand from my shoulder, he adjusts his goggles in his brown hair. “So, what’s the plan?”
Feeling the solidarity, I allow myself a calming breath. “The plan is a bit chaotic.”
“Making me the perfect accomplice.”
Smiling, I nod. “But also, I’m gonna have to request something hard from you before I say anything about it.”
He cocks his head.
“You can ask questions about the task at hand, but not about anything else. Okay?”
“Limiting my access to inquiry is a tall order…but I’ll do what I can to respect your privacy.”
I lace my fingers together in front of my jean skirt. “I appreciate that. Now…have you ever encountered a queen slime lair?”
The spark that ignites in Slate’s eye as he puts two and two together is…well…nuclear.
~ ~
Slate will not stop laughing.
And, I mean, I’m so glad he’s thriving amid this battle, but also. “You suck,” I snap, bopping a green slime atop the head for the fifteenth time. My arm is getting tired, and I still have four stupid colors left.
Slate wheezes, leaning against one of the massive willows protecting the Mystic Forest. A breeze runs through the weeping boughs around him, and the white leaves rustle together, creating glass music as though they’re wind chimes.
“I’m going to let the blue slime eat you,” I clip.
Wiping a tear from his eye and sniffling, Slate lifts his freaking hand-held flamethrower, and decimates the blue slime that was wobbling its way over to him. Horrifyingly, the creature melts into nothingness at Slate’s boots. “This is fabulous.” He chuckles. “Bop, bop, bop.”
I’m going to bop him, dang it.
“You said you wanted to do this as much by yourself as possible, and that I should only seek to protect myself if I had to, because you’re proving something.”
“I know what I said!” The green slime perishes, so I dodge a pathetic purple hop and begin my twenty-seven-ish bops on it. Crit chance spares me an average of a mundane six. Bless.
Slate revs his flame thrower. “Sooo…”
“No, I don’t want your help.”
“’Kayyy,” he chirps, snickering. “Just making sure.”
At long last, I bop my final bop, lower my aching arm, and free a breath.
Hooking his flame thrower in a holster at his waist, Slate begins to clap. “Encore.”
My eyes roll toward him and the wisps of dark hair sticking out around his goggles. Yeah, buddy, there are reasons you’re my second favorite character, yet not my marriage option. You’re great fun, but one morning of this, and I’d poison your coffee.
Plopping his goggles back on his forehead, he peers into the majestic fog skating across the mossy earth ahead.
“I have to say, this entire morning has been most invigorating, and—while hilarious—your assured confidence throughout this endeavor is something to behold.” He skims his fingers through the weeping, musical foliage.
“I should very much like to test samples of this magical place. I am honored that you saw fit to share it with me, even if you aren’t disclosing how exactly you knew it was hiding here. ”
“I’m not humoring that comment.” Squaring my shoulders, and knowing I’m going to feel soreness for days after this, I rub my neck.
“Thank you for your bomb slinging. I’m glad you’ve found fun new research to do.
” I point my wooden sword into the thickest mist. “If you’ll excuse me now, I’m going to wander into the darkness. ”
“Sammy’ll kill me if I let you do that alone.” He steps forward.
I tuck my sword back into my backpack and frown. “To be fair, we don’t know if you’re not already a dead man walking.”
“True. My chances improve drastically if you make it back home, though.”
I sigh, then I offer my hand.
He stares at the limb. “Whatever is that for?”
“If we get separated, you’ll get lost and die.”
“How do you know that so unquestionably?”
“Unquestioning is what you’re supposed to be practicing, isn’t it?”
He clamps his thick glove to my hand. “Right, right. My bad. I am ever so curious, and you grow curiouser and curiouser.”
“’Tis the female charm,” I provide, free of chalant, then I start directly forward into the mist.
It wraps around us, tingling against my flesh, reminding me completely that magic lives and breathes in Gem Ridge, monsters lurk beneath the surface of the ground, and a history that remained so open-ended in the game lore exists, finite and singular.
Someone, somewhere, in the great past of an entire world set up the steps to find this place.
Truly, I’m not supposed to be here until I reach the two hundredth level of the mine.
That is where an ancient stone plaque provides the directions to not get lost in these mists.
Once again, I’m jumping steps, but as the mists begin to clear and open on a pool of water that innately glows a soft blue, I know I’ve made it.
Still with me, Slate squeezes my hand and exhales a swear.
“Promise me you’ll stay right here when I let go of your hand?” I say, looking back at him.
He nods, stiff. “I fancy myself smart enough to assume if I don’t, I will die.”
“Basically.” I release him at the edge of the water, fortify myself, and step onto the gleaming surface.
A solid rock rises to meet my shoe the moment it gets wet and I would fall in if I didn’t trust something to lie ahead. With each careful step, a stone appears beneath my sole.
Upon my making it to the center of the water, my Crystal Gem Blade emerges protruding out of a small obsidian island. Rivulets that fill the glowing pond with ripples spill off the monument, and I look down at a sheet of engraved gold.
Legend foretold your arrival.
Destiny beheld your victory.
Do good with the power you draw here.
And may your future be blessed with gifts.
In game, it’s simple. You follow the directions you find at the bottom of the mine to this spot. You read that text. And you laugh as you collect your sword, because—wow—it’s a cozy farming sim, fam; it’s not that deep.
Surrounded by a darkness formed from interwoven branches above, bathed only in a light that rises from the water around me, I know that there are real people I can help, real quests that affect their quality of life.
It’s not just about affording a marriage circlet or being able to obtain resources easier. It’s about continuing to help while I still have the blueprint on how to improve this world in the wake of devastation.
“I promise,” I whisper, and take hold of the shining hilt.
With ease, the blade slips free.