This Chapter took forever haha. pain

The Guide had always been a gentle soul. He was ill disposed to violence and was easily moved to pity. Even when his own trials were severe and heart-wrenching, somehow he found comfort in comforting others. A Bleeding heart, the village men called him. "Toughen up" they scoffed. As much as he hated it, their words rang true, and as he embarked on his quest for revenge - he felt the weight of their words.

… humph.

How could he accomplish a brutal revenge with a soft heart? How could he change his nature and become cold and ruthless while his conscious ruled over him? Surely the task at hand left no room for pity nor compassion, yet he had already failed on this front. Even in the midst of his deepest hate, standing there in the ruins of his beloved village, he couldn't bring himself to slay The Terrarian. The fruit of that wicked summoning.

Good thing I didn't kill him.

But… perhaps it wasn't all bad. In fact, his compassion was now beginning to pay dividends. Had he slain The Terrarian that gruesome night, where would he be now? Dead? Begging for scraps as he fled from the encroaching Crimson? Would he have joined the sad march of refugees as they travelled, homeless through the land? Very likely.

Instead, his compassion led him here. Sitting at a beautifully constructed kitchen table across from a legend in the making. A being who at three days old had effortlessly slain a King Slime - and something told The Guide he wasn't going to be capping his power anytime soon. He would continue to grow, stronger, faster, more skilled, until he held within himself the power of entire armies. The Guide could see it and he sought to make that power his own. The Guide coveted it - no, pined for it. And even as he knew he needed the Terrarian, The Guide had feared the man. He even feared for his own life… until now, of course.

The village men wouldn't dare tell The Terrarian to toughen up… heh

Because not an hour ago, that very same terrifying creature whom The Guide had convinced himself would slit his throat on a whim, had pleaded for The Guide not to abandon him.

How heartfelt of him.

How utterly shocking. How pleasantly unexpected. The Terrarian had loosed his stony tongue to unveil a lonely, aching heart. He had straightforwardly laid his thoughts bare, withholding his pride to give utterance to his hopelessness and nihilism. And - most startling of all - he had identified The Guide -'his' Guide- as the only precious person in his still small world.

Nobody has ever said such a thing to me… agh, if only he were a pretty girl...

It was a confession so sincere, The Guide was sure he must have blushed red upon hearing it. As they stood there, soaking in the freezing rain, The Guide once again pitied his Slayer. His own woes temporarily forgotten, he had embarked on the (admittingly long-winded and badly received) task of reassuring The Terrarian. In a few short words, The Terrarian had explained he didn't know who or what manner of creature he was, and had neither purpose nor meaning - The Guide sought to rectify that. He was halfway through explaining the history of one of the legendary Terrarians of old, when he noticed his companion had become non-responsive.

Boring? Me? Humph…

The insult stung a bit - The Guide was sure his lecture would be interesting - but regardless, he was glad they stopped. There were much weightier things to discuss, and discuss them they did. The result was more than The Guide could have bargained for. The Terrarian (evidently stirred by his own aberrant nature) seemed strangely excited at the prospect of risking his life to kill great monsters, and was only barely holding it within a stony mask. He had promised loyalty so long as The Guide accompanied him wherever he went.

Not a bad choice, honestly… it keeps me in line...

The Guide was happy to agree to such terms. Frankly he would have asked to accompany The Terrarian even if he didn't require it. This almost-man was his golden goose, and only an idiot would fail to carefully 'guard' his only means of success. Last night, after eating the best fish he had ever tasted and sending The Terrarian out to collect things in the woods, he had gone to sleep bursting with gleeful hope. Until now, The Guide had been struggling under enough stress to make him want to drown himself - but now that The Terrarian had thrown his weight behind him, he could see his hope more clearly than ever. Things were finally looking up. The clouds were parting. He could see the clear path to his goal.

Mom… Dad… wait a little longer for me.

And this morning, when he was woken at the crack of dawn by a cold armoured hand shaking him a bit more vigorously than necessary, he wasn't even annoyed with the invasion of privacy.

"...Whaaat?"

He snorted into his pillow, and unconsciously pulled it over to press into his face. He hadn't gotten much sleep last night - it had taken him forever to calm down enough to fall into unconsciousness - and had hoped to spend some time languishing in bed before getting to work. Obviously, The Terrarian had other ideas.

He must be eager to get going…

The Terrarian's armour clinked and scraped against itself as he stood back and spoke. He sounded as cold and emotionless as usual, but the tightness with which he uttered the words made it clear he was disturbed.

"The Old Merchant, whom we burnt, is sitting downstairs."

"..."

"..."

The Guide pulled off the pillow and sat upright.

"... huh?"

"I... I certainly am alive. I can't imagine why you would ask that..."

The Old Merchant frowned at the troubled young man sitting across from him. What a strange question to ask a living person. Was he, perhaps, touched in the head? It didn't appear so. In fact, the young man seemed rather intelligent and well educated. After all, despite his plain dress, the luxurious building they were inhabiting indicated at least noble status. What an interesting question.

"Then… do you have a twin sibling?"

Another strange question. The Old Merchant knotted his brows and cast a nervous glance behind him, where the noble's knight stood rigidly. The knight was emanating an uncomfortable, even threatening atmosphere - as if he expected The Old Merchant to suddenly attack his charge.

"I don't young sir. I… I'm simply here to humbly present my wares and rest until evening - if… if you will allow me, of course."

"..."

How uncomfortable. After a long night of fleeing the zombie hoard, The Merchant had been ecstatic to stumble upon this settlement. The idea of warming his old bones beside a fire and perhaps indulging in a little something to drink was a prospect so sweet to him, it all but consumed his thoughts. Unfortunately, The Young Noble seemed to be tremendously suspicious of him, although The Old Merchant couldn't imagine why. This land was filled with men and women fleeing the recently spread Crimson plague. There should be nothing strange about his arrival here.

The Noble's chair screeched against the hardwood floor as he stood to his feet and observed him closely. He seemed to communicate silently with his knight, who walked over to a nearby shelf and plucked a mug from amongst the glassware. The smell of sweet scented ale filled the air as The Knight cracked a keg to fill the cup. After a moment, it was placed before The Merchant with an ominous clack, and the Knight returned to his station.

The Young Noble spoke once more.

"Merchant… why don't you have something to drink?"

"..."

Silence rang loud in the dining room as two sets of eyes bore into him. The Noble had crossed his arms over his chest and was observing him from the other end of the room. The Knight's armour shifted against itself, and something told The Merchant he was ready for action. Under such a suspicious set of circumstances, The Merchant couldn't accept the drink - no matter how lovely it smelled. He declined as politely as he could.

"I apologize sir, It's far too early for m-"

*SHUNK*

The Old Merchant lost his words as a blade was viciously stabbed into the table from behind him. The sword pierced through the hardwood table, only missing the Merchant's hand by a hairsbreadth. The Knight's cold edge almost tickled his throat - and if The Merchant had moved just an inch, he most certainly would have had his jugular slit. Mind spinning, The Merchant gulped and gripped the table in fear. He shouldn't have come here.

The Noble's voice was cold.

"Drink."

"... of, of course..."

What choice did he have now? What sort of terrifying poison was in that drink, yet if he didn't obey, the blade was already poised to slit his throat. He reached out a trembling hand and grasped the mug - slowly bringing it to his lips and praying to any god that heard him.

*gulp...*

"..."

"..."

It… it was ale. Just normal, particularly tasty Ale. Some poisons were tasteless, but the vast majority of them were bitter. The Merchant carefully put the cup down, and took a shuddering breath. The Noble was frowning at him, then glanced at the Knight - who promptly removed his blade and sheathed it. The Noble's voice was even more troubled than before.

"You really are alive…"

The Merchant sucked in a hitching breath and didn't respond. He glared at The Noble, unhappy to have been put through such a trial for nothing. This man must be crazy. This was the worst hospitality he'd ever been shown. The moment he was fit to travel, he was going to leave this place and find another town to settle in.

"Merchant… can you identify this?"

The Noble detached something from around his neck and slid it across the table. It was… an oddly shaped golden ingot on a string. The Old Merchant frowned and shook his head. He had never seen such a thing in his life, and even if he did - he wouldn't be entertaining these brutes with his knowledge.

The Noble didn't seem disappointed. He simply pursed his lips and watched The Merchant for a long moment, after which he retrieved his ingot and shruged in resignation.

"I see… well, in that case, I apologize for the trouble. You may take any house you like - aside for mine of course. Please enjoy your stay."

Guide: can you get outta my room

Slayer: fam I literally built this place with my own two hands

Tremendous oof.

Merchant #2 is like bro I didn't do anything wrong.

Imagine the respawn system irl? terrifying. Just somebody who looks exactly like the guy who just dies shows up - but it's not him.

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