Parallel (A Virtual Gamer's Story) [Vol.1 - Vol.4 Complete]

Chapter 21: Swindlers, Teachers & Blondies

Toulette,
Renauss Kingdom.

10:57 p.m. 15th Peniel 1091.

Syèl bit down on tasty beef jerky as he examined a roadside mile-marker. A smile spread on his lips as he realized there were only a few miles left until he reached his destination. As the halben resumed his walk, he realized he should have seriously considered purchasing a mount. The funds from bounty hunting were burning holes through his pocket as, because he did not require a staff to cast his spells, he really did not have much to spend money on.

Syèl sighed. There was no use regretting the decision now. And on the bright side, walking did have some perks. It boosted his Endurance and helped raise his overall Stamina, though not by much. Plus, bandits were more likely to attack a lone target, giving the halben plenty of test subjects for his various spells.

While Syèl fantasized about possible future victims, an odd sight on the road gave him pause. An old man in dirty robes was collapsed in the middle of the path, with a walking stick in front of him.

Syèl observed the old man. When he noticed there was no movement, he clasped his hands together and offered a quick prayer to the deceased then moved on. It was none of his concern who bit the dust.

Grab!

"What the fuck!" Syèl yelled in shock as the corpse's bony right hand suddenly shot out and grasped his ankle. The corpse's cold touch ignited a deep trauma within the young man and sent his heart racing. "Stay dead!" the halben screamed, fear apparent in the midst of false bravado as a giant fireball formed in his right hand.

The old man, sensing the heat, suddenly raised his head and shouted, "I'm not dead!"

"The fuck you aren't!" Syèl violently rebutted and almost instantly shot the fireball as he looked at the old man's terrible visage.

The old man was extraordinarily bony and sported terrifyingly wrinkled skin. A pair of exaggeratedly large eyes with half-opened eyelids gave the face a comical yet scary disposition. It just appeared unnatural.

Zombie grandpa grabbed Syèl 'sankle with his other hand as he scolded the halben, "What are you, a baby?!"

"No! I know what a zombie looks like," Syèl yelled, but proceeded to stomp on the old man with his free leg. "Let me go!"

"S-stop hi-hitting me!" the old man protested. "I'm not a zombie!"

"That's exactly what a zombie would say!" Syèl countered, and proceeded to increase the intensity of his kicks.

Zombie grandpa seemed to have had enough, as he suddenly screamed with more strength than a dying man should have. "Fool! Zombies can't talk!"

Syèl stopped and looked at the gramps with a doubtful gaze. "You sure you're not a zombie?"

"I am not!" Zombie grandpa sat up, crossed legged, and laid his walking stick across his lap. "Youth these days are so rude."

Syèl coughed and put on his most serious face. "What happened to you, old man?" To be honest, he knew all along, but he had to kick the old man for causing him to remember something unpleasant. Not that he would ever admit that.

"Don't you go pretending like nothing happened!" the old man scolded then broke into a fit of coughs.

Syèl's brows furrowed. "You alright, old man?"

"This is nothing. The burden I carry as mayor of Neverun is much heavier." The old man looked up at the halben and meekly added in a vulnerable tone, "...A meal would be nice."