Thick as Thieves
loonatheMMORPGWhen you have nothing, together, you become as thick as Thieves.
< Inspired by the Explorers of MapleStory (Reboot Patch) >
Triplet Line (Hyunjin, Choerry, & Olivia Hye)
The Fighter
Hyunjin loves the thrill of fighting. It’s no surprise she ends up bruised and sore in the filthy sewers of Kerning City at least twice a week.
The tunnels are empty now, the gangs having left her to the rats. A murky stream trickles through the cracks in the ceiling right onto Hyunjin’s throbbing head. It leaves a trail of grime down the back of her neck and soils her fraying shirt.
“Be smarter than them. Think,” the shadows tut.
Prideful as ever, Hyunjin spits on the ground and slams her palm against the wall, hauling herself up onto shaky legs. She holds up two scarred fists, breathes, and swings.
She misses and topples straight into the opposite wall.
The low chuckles blend with the waves sloshing at her feet. “Admirable strength, but no finesse and no strategy.”
“Shut up!” Hyunjin growls.
“Hmm, you are agile. Maybe the best of my apprentices since Balrog’s resurrection.” The man’s steps barely ripple in the cesspool.
Hyunjin wipes the blood trickling from the corner of and lunges. Again. Again. Always swiping at air a hair’s breadth away from black cloth.
His fingers curl around Hyunjin’s wrist. His hungry cold whisper slithers into her ears. “Ah, there it is. When you attack, you don’t see targets, do you?” His eyes widen in surprise when Hyunjin successfully twists away with a grunt. “No. You see lines. Long, sweeping, smooth slashes across the most critical points.”
Hyunjin backs away slowly. His words are entrancing, striking true to her red-tinted vision when she barrels headfirst into a brawl. It’s terrifying to have her mind dissected with only a few pathetic blows to serve as data.
“I have a mission for you.”
“Like hell I’ll accept.” Hyunjin spits the blood from . By the way his eyes crinkle, Hyunjin knows the man is smiling.
“Gather a thousand mesos from monsters around the city. Then follow the saxophone’s trill and descend the stairs. I’ll be waiting.”
Hyunjin raises her arm to fling the slimy droplets of brown liquid from her skin, her hand inches away from the sewer wall. “in’ lunatic—” She hisses as metal clangs against metal. An excruciating vibration courses up the bones in her forearm. Horror melding into wonder, Hyunjin stares at the dinky black fruit knife clenched in her fist.
A new thrill washes over her. She wants to learn how he slipped her a weapon without her knowing. She wants to strike the first blow before her enemies ever see her.
~|~|~|~
Hyunjin stares at her reflection in the web-cracked window of the pharmacy. Glaring red tendrils spiral over her skin. Fading yellow-green bruises from Octopus ers dot her arms and calves. She has a sprained ankle from jumping off a steel beam when a mob of Orange Mushrooms bounced after her. And weeks of swinging on crane hooks from crumbling thatched roofs gave her enormous blisters. Still she smirks, a crooked mirthful one. Because her thin pockets are full to bursting with gold and bronze mesos.
She brushes back her greasy hair, feeling the icy blade of the fruit knife press against her skin beneath her sleeve, and walks past the tacky neon sign.
“Welcome to the Jazz Fusion Bar. What’ll it be—” The bartender snorts and eyes Hyunjin from head to toe with disdain. “Scram, ya lil punk.”
Hyunjin straightens up, meeting his beady eyes with her apathetic stare. “I followed the saxophone’s trill.”
The pianist’s fingers flit across the chipped keys. The singer on the raised platform slides a hand down the mic stand, her sultry voice filling the seedy space. The drums build in tension. The saxophone climbs to a ringing pitch, alternating between the highest notes.
The bartender pulls out a ring of keys and gestures for Hyunjin to follow him into the cellar. Knife at the ready, she winds through barrels of whiskey and dusty bottles of vodka and rum to a floor hatch. The padlock clatters as the bartender unwinds the thick chain. With a creak, he holds open the wooden panel.
Hyunjin doesn’t move.
“You won’t be leaving this way. You won’t need to if he sees potential in you.”
Sediment rains down from the slam of the hatch as soon as she dips beneath ground-level. Her boots scrape against the cement stairs. Bright eyes and whispers greet her in a wide dark atrium. A boxing ring is lit up in the center with a body hanging upside-down from the ceiling.
“Welcome.” The man unwinds the rope from his feet. He lands softly, hands pressed together in prayer.
Hyunjin steps into the ring, falls to one knee and bows her head. She slides several sacks full of coins across the floor. Her ears prick up at the chuckles swimming around them.
“Well done. Your training begins now.”
Hyunjin feels the wind graze her skin and fan her long hair out of her face. He’s gone. She rises with tense muscles. Four Daggers spring at her from above, below, aiming for her gut, her thigh. She dodges all of them. Blood stains the off-white tarp as the four senior apprentices are dragged off on stretchers.
~|~|~|~
Whenever Hyunjin returns from missions, she drops off whatever she pilfered, anything she doesn’t need. Each twang of a coin dropped into the collection boxes invigorates her. Her fingers trace the aluminum placards. Sewer renovations. Medical equipment. Residential construction. Subway patrol. Electrical maintenance.
This is her city. A city of Thieves.
~|~|~|~
Hyunjin breathes in the fresh dewy scent of the eastern fairy forests. Lush with life unlike the rusty odor of concrete jungles. She long abandoned the dirt trail worn by adventurers. It’s more fun to vault over sprawling roots, to grapple for handholds up a trunk a thousand years old, to swing from vine to vine until the last one snaps, sending her into a rolling recovery on a mat of moss.
She wonders how Choerry and Olivia are doing. Responsibilities stacked as she advanced to the rank of Chief Bandit. She had gone out on missions for days, even weeks at a time. But her friends had never been more than a shipping compound apart. Hyunjin glances at the beams of sunlight filtering between the gaps of the canopy. Choerry would be high up in the mountains of Perion by now. Olivia should be halfway to Nautilus Harbor on the southern coast. She shakes her head with a grin. They’ll be fine. They have sharp senses and even sharper wits.
A chorus of screams pierces through the songbirds’ hymn, then lightning strikes up ahead.
Hyunjin sprints, barely leaving imprints on the newly sprouted grass. She pulls herself higher to hide among the branches and leaps further into the depths of the forest. Perched above a clearing, she spies four robed women guarding their campsite from an ambush.
Evil Eyes, large one-eyed creatures that crawl on two hands with a heavy tail whipping behind them. Bumps line their lemon-yellow skin. Their tongues flail out between toothy snarls in grotesque hunger. A Mage with shoulder-length hair conjures another lightning storm, charging the air without a single drop of rain. It zaps three Evil Eyes at once, charring the ground.
“Yeojin, cover Haseul!” shouts the group’s Priest.
A small Wizard jumps out from the midst of the huddle, Wand raised high. Yeojin, Hyunjin presumes. Her oversized pointed hat flops over her eyes. She blindly casts a spell and magnificent shards of ice pummel the new wave of monsters. Steam rises from the deteriorating bodies of Curse Eyes, green all over and just as terrible as the others. Her victory is short-lived as stark white monsters jump out from the bushes. Their heads are spiked like a crown, their breaths escaping in chilling huffs. Haseul’s lightning does little damage to the Cold Eyes. Their elemental affinity completely deflects Yeojin’s ice barrage.
“What is she doing?!” cries the Mage defending the right side. Flames erupt with the slightest flick of her Wand.
“Oh my Goddess!” wails Yeojin. “She’s dead!”
The Priest lets loose a glowing Holy Arrow with a scowl. “She’s not dead! She’s meditating!”
Hyunjin watches curiously when Haseul closes her eyes mid-combat. Her features smooth out as if ascending to a realm of peace. Her lips weave inaudible spells. Warm light radiates from her body. Waves of pure energy ripple through the air and Hyunjin can see the party’s continuous attacks rising in power. The Eyes fall faster, unable to resist such high damage. Haseul returns to the battle with a flourish of her Wand. She teleports fifteen feet at a time. The grass freezes in her wake and traps the Eyes chasing her. They perish when the fire and poison Mage ignites the toxic mist surrounding the campsite. The green air pockets explode like a minefield and send the Eyes flying out of sight.
Haseul shouts over her shoulder. “Regroup! Vivi—”
“On it.” The Priest strikes her Staff on the ground and chants a healing spell. The last of the Eyes nearby drop where they stand, their life force siphoned into the Mages. Vivi digs around in her satchel for large corked flasks filled with a deep blue concoction. She downs at least four of them to replenish her MP.
Hyunjin watches them cheer and dance. Something writhes in the pit of her stomach. The air still reeks of mold and detritus. She grips the hilt of her Dagger tighter. The weapon is peculiar in that the pale steel curves horizontally across her knuckles, around her pinky and along the outside of her forearm. The serrated disc is engraved with gold. The touch of cold metal has always brought her comfort. It clears her mind, reminds her she’s strong and a protector. She fights for the people whether they be Thieves or adventurers.
Or a ragtag group of Mages.
The branches in the canopy shift. The patchy sunlight illuminates spiny backs black as night. Drool slobbers down their chins as giant teeth gnash against each other. The Surgeon Eyes strike the campsite from above. Yellow, green, and white spew in from all sides down below. The ground rumbles like an earthquake. The trees shiver from the desecration.
Hyunjin stiffens. The Mages are well-leveled to fight any of the Eyes, but four can’t possibly take on a swarm. And casting magic is painfully slow even with buffs.
Suddenly she’s back in the sewers, crouched in defeat and grasping her stomach with hot tears streaming down her numb face. Power isn’t everything.
Hyunjin marks a path that will take out a string of ten Eyes before she even lands. Her skills activate on command as easy as breathing. Haste. The world phases out for a moment before sharpening into focus. Reality is too slow for her agile body. Dagger Booster. Strength courses through her veins. Her blades seem to vibrate with excitement, craving the carnage. Shadow Partner. Darkness coalesces into her spitting image, imitation Daggers poised with a sickening grin. Dark Sight. Her body melts into the shadows. She’s barely anchored to this plane. She’s undetectable and untouchable.
They can’t sense her jumping onto their backs and tumbling through the air. She carves through tough flesh with a mere flick of her wrist. Dark Sight deactivates upon initiating combat. Her shadow doppelgänger mirrors her movements, dealing secondary damage as a mockery to the monsters since it shouldn’t even exist. Every leap is precise, every cut accurate and measured. It’s a meticulous dance and Hyunjin conquers the stage.
The second her leather boots crush a lone daisy, she unleashes Midnight Carnival. Eyes fall in droves, each with six fatal slashes. Her body becomes a blur. It’s almost demonic. Her double inflicts just as many critical hits. The swarm thins in an instant. The creatures out of range retreat back to their wretched nests.
Amidst the stampede, Hyunjin spots a burst of flames. She digs her heel into the grass and activates Haste again. Her buffed speed steals the air from her lungs. She cradles the Mage close to her chest and swings out her right arm. Her Dragon’s Tail Dagger coated with venom singes through the monster’s hide. Black charred skin peels back to reveal gushing red muscle and sinew. The Surgeon Eye shrieks and hobbles away on its two hands, tail limp and paralyzed.
“Heejin!” the Mages call out.
Hyunjin flinches when Heejin squeezes her shoulder. “Did you just take out all of those creatures by yourself?”
The calls grow louder with the rustle of thorny bushes. A raspy shout from the short Wizard blames the fairies for making the forest such a knotted landscape to traverse.
Heejin’s expression softens. “Thank you for saving us. We are in your debt, um…”
“Hyunjin.”
“Hyunjin,” Heejin repeats with a small smile.
Hyunjin’s name uttered with such a low soothing tone doesn’t match the erratic explosiveness of Heejin’s spells.
The party barrels through the crackling debris with cinders afloat. Vivi checks over Heejin’s cuts. A geyser of green light flares up around each person until their HP is at full capacity. The Priest consumes another four potions.
From a hundred feet above, Hyunjin ponders visiting the forests of Ellinia again.
The Chaser
Choerry prides herself on her boundless energy. It keeps her active, lean and toned. It steers her away from boredom.
And it’s too much for people to keep up with.
She’s seen it plenty of times, the moment someone slips away. Just when she thought that little seed of light they planted in her heart would bloom into an achingly tight bond. It withers.
No matter. They couldn’t match her pace and neither could the encroaching loneliness.
By age eleven, she finds tailing lithe cats and stray mutts down back alleys a more worthwhile challenge than being a grunt for the kids loitering in the dingy subway. She loves the scrape of bricks under her rough palms. She loves tiptoeing in the shade, ducking behind odorous trash cans and dodging the sparks of exposed power lines. She especially loves testing fate in abandoned factories. Railings that creak under her weight. Beams mounted in the building’s frame that lead to open space where an incomplete skeleton of five stories now stands. Empty drums where alloys were fused and oils were purified.
It’s in a wide processing vat that she finds a groaning girl with a swollen ankle, disheveled black hair, and no escape route.
Choerry blinks her wide clear eyes. A smile stretches across her face. “Hi!” She dodges a projectile of rubble and frowns. “Hey, that wasn’t very nice!”
“Leave me alone!” the girl screeches.
Choerry grimaces when the stranger grips her ankle and hisses. Her forehead presses against her knee so hard, it leaves a red splotch. Choerry recognizes the burning gaze in those glaring black eyes.
It’s the gaze of someone who grew up too fast. Someone who fends for themself even if there doesn’t seem to be a reason for it. Someone whose only possession is a rabid instinct to stay alive. Choerry, as cunning as she is, innocently thinks she’s got enough life to spare.
There’s an audible sigh when Choerry pushes herself away from the railing of the suspended bridge. Then the girl howls in annoyance as coils of dusty taut rope dangle above her head, a whole nosy kid rappelling down into the vat.
“My name’s Choerry!” She untangles a spare harness from her shoulder and buckles it around the girl’s torso and thighs. A tether clips securely to their belt loops.
Beads of sweat roll down Choerry’s soot-stained skin. Her jaw locks in concentration. Her arms tremble under the strain. The palms of the work gloves she picked up are worn thin. The girl furrows her eyebrows and Choerry just grins back, a squeal escaping when their combined weight makes her slip a foot down the rope.
“Why are you helping me?”
“Why not?” Choerry asks.
“They pushed me in. They left me.”
Choerry somehow makes a shrug audible. “I’m not them. I’m me. And I want to get you out. Try and stop me.”
Choerry appreciates the girl’s attempt to not choke her as legs wrap tightly around Choerry’s waist. A hand reaches out for the spare rope, then the girl tugs. They climb higher and higher, Choerry supporting the stranger’s lower body until she drags them onto the catwalk. Chests heaving, their lungs burn and their heads buzz with adrenaline. A cool breeze sweeps through the shattered windows.
Choerry closes her eyes. She sees the red glow of the sunset behind her lids and grasps onto the shaky fingers threading between hers.
“I’m Olivia.” It comes out raspy, exhausted, and so so beautiful.
Dr. Naora lets them stay in the under-funded hospital for a week free of charge. Olivia’s on bedrest and being sedentary doesn’t sit well with Choerry. Twice a day she scours the city for apples and eggs. One lucky night, she scores a prized pack of dried squid and a box of unagi from the kids whose names Olivia carved into the vat floor. Choerry doesn’t say much else about the heist, but Olivia smirks at the growing pile of mesos on her bedside table.
When Olivia’s ankle heals, she doesn’t run away. She runs with Choerry through every warehouse and down every alley. Some mornings their stomachs growl. Some nights they shiver violently. Choerry takes every sunrise as a challenge and she knows Olivia will have her back.
~|~|~|~
The swamp reeks of mildew, musky leather, bird excrements, and algal blooms.
Choerry swings herself back onto a ledge just as a thug dangles Olivia over a bubbling pit teeming with hopeful Crocos. The brute’s at least two hundred pounds and six feet tall. Choerry eyes the Forked Dagger discarded among the tangled roots. She has no chance of overtaking him. He wouldn’t even budge if she rushed him.
Her fingers wrap around the hilt of the weapon. His fingers release Olivia’s shirt collar.
“Choerry!”
Her name rips through the air. Fierce and coarse and raw with fright.
Hot tears stream down Choerry’s face. They coat her white knuckles as her nails claw into the mud by her knees. Her shoulder throbs. She hiccups in relief.
Olivia hangs at the base of a mangrove mere feet above the snapping jaws. The hood of her moth-eaten sweater stretches by the second from where the Dagger is lodged into the trunk. Olivia claws at the neckline to tug it away from , gulping in the humid air. Her foot finds a large gnarled knot in the tree to support her weight.
A feral growl makes Choerry shield her head with her arms. She hears a swear, then a thud and muffled shouts. When she lifts her gaze, the man is hogtied. The pouches hanging from his belt have been slashed. Choerry’s eyes travel from the studded boot pressing into his spine to the leather plated armor. Sharp canines clamp down on a triangular steel blade. The red ribbon cross-laced over the hilt flutters in the wind. The Bandit inspects a gold meso from her hostage’s haul and, when satisfied with its authenticity, pockets it.
Choerry blinks away her tears. The stranger’s silhouette blurs. In a flash, she sets a ghostly pale Olivia on the ground. The Bandit sheaths her own weapon before tossing Choerry the Forked Dagger.
Choerry pulls Olivia to her chest. She slides her thumb along one of the prongs of the Dagger, judging how the handle’s weight compares to the blade’s.
“That isn’t meant to be thrown,” the Bandit says. She smirks like its misuse is unbelievably juvenile. She jerks her head at the ancient mangrove, her voice harsh and passionate like an iron forge. “Do it again.”
This time, the Dagger splits the bark where it’s wedged.
That summer brings a new experience. Choerry and Olivia are guaranteed dinner. Every single night. They don’t have to worry about waking up too weak to move. They don’t have to eat back to back with bloodshot eyes and twitching ears. They don’t have to ration their shares. And for the first time ever, they have a home. (And it’s inexplicably full of cat fur.)
~|~|~|~
It’s simple and small. A cheap set of five hundred stars. Four pointed tips, balanced, lightweight, and steel. (What does Kerning City churn out that isn’t steel?) Plus a level ten Claw—a basic leather glove to protect her palm. Choerry presses her middle finger and thumb to the hole in the center of the star and flicks her wrist. It spins faster and faster. As smoothly as water parts in a wash basin, it moves with her hand when she flips her palm over. Her fingers fan out to stop it. She sweeps out her arm across and away from her body. The straw dummy in the training room smiles back at her with silver piercing its forehead.
Choerry’s ear perks up at the swish of air beside her. A star wedges in the burlap just below the ribs, another in the neck. Her heart glows at the nasally giggle that leaves Olivia’s stiff lips.
~|~|~|~
The Dark Lord gives Choerry a week to deliver a collaborative ordinance to Dances with Balrog, leader of the Warriors and all clans in Perion’s domain. With Haste maxed out and her eagerness unrivaled, she makes it to the city by dusk on the second day. The respected chief offers her lodging and hot meals. Choerry respectfully declines, but doesn’t suppress her wonder at the magnificent architecture of the Warriors’ Sanctuary within the mountain itself.
The people’s history is carved into stone tablets chiseled out of the cavern’s walls. The firelight from twenty staves illuminate the atrium in a warm, beige glow. The shadows of the chief’s headdress dance along the curves of the engravings. It shows a battalion pitted against the legendary beast that shakes the earth and taints nature. Balrog—a gargantuan hoofed demon with great claws, tattered wings that strike up a fearsome gale, and thick pointed horns.
Choerry doesn’t intend to gawk. The chief appreciates it. Warriors are prideful and steadfast. Whereas Thieves will lose the battle to win the war, it’s not an option for Warriors. They take every possible measure to ensure they march forth victorious. Aching, battered, perhaps with a casualty count in the hundreds, but victorious.
She searches the plateaus outside the city for a small alcove. The heart of Perion is a mere cluster of glowing spots in the distance. Despite the whistling winds of peaks that pierce the clouds, she loves the fresh air. It’s thin. Exhilarating when taken in large gulps, then it forces her into a state of peace because she can’t squander away the oxygen.
She sits near the mouth of the cave, legs dangling freely off the cliff, and bursts into speech. It’s the first time Olivia isn’t beside her. It won’t stop her from spilling stories of the barren landscape and wild creatures. Of skulls on pikes with scrawled warning signs and whispers of an undead army haunting the northern ruins. Fleshing it out to the cratered full moon somehow bridges the two hundred miles between them.
Olivia’s smiles are rare. Every tale Choerry weaves is another chance to see it.
Choerry spends the next day leaping around the canyons. There are thousands of floating platforms more than in Kerning City. Her boots provide traction so she doesn’t slip off the smooth shale. It’s strange to feel grains of sediment rolling beneath her gloved palm. To have her footsteps muffled by miles of protruding earth instead of an industrial playground. To breathe in mist instead of smog.
The trees are disappointing. Dry, aged, crackling, gnarled monstrosities. The villagers said ancient Perion used to be full of flourishing fields and thick forests. Then a drought befell the land and the vegetation wallowed in anger. Choerry peers at the ground where hordes of Stumps waddle on four severed roots like the legs of an antique coffee table. Some resemble a healthy shade of hickory, others more like ashy charcoal. They have a single eyeball leering out of a crevice in the trunk. It appears indefinitely awake. The larger Stumps have an axe lodged in the flat of their heads. It’s peculiar how the land itself comes alive with a vengeance, whereas Kerning City is merely overrun by mischievous creatures. Then again, the mall at Kerning Square has some possessed products with high attack power and speed. Beware of the bubble tea and mind your fingers around the CDs, Hyunjin had warned.
Traveling a few maps to the west, Choerry brushes the dust off a wooden plank stabbed into the earth. The Burning Plains. She tugs at the collar of her shirt and pushes through the intense heat wafting her way. Squeals and clashes of metal build like a torturous symphony. Choerry marvels at the mile-wide valley. Jagged rocks and spears from wars waged ages ago litter the boundary. Deep in the center are a sounder of Wild Boars. The common ones are bristly and whiney. There are Fire Boars with manes of blazing inferno running down their spines, their fur a striking burgundy. Then there are Iron Boars. Choerry wonders how swine come by thick plated armor, but she’s more enthralled by their behavior. The boars heads by the droves. Their tusks scrape into flesh and their feet kick up the dry soil in whirlwinds. They circle around and charge on command. It’s almost like they have culture. A battle culture, the same passed down among the Warriors.
At sundown, she returns to Perion. The chief hands over the ordinance with a few amendments for the Dark Lord’s review. He again insists on her resting until dawn and enjoying the villagers’ hospitality. But Choerry lives off the night where the stars are her guide. She tucks the scrolls deep into her satchel and bows.
An hour away from the city, she perches on a peak to gather her bearings. To the right is an ominous glow of flames and the stench of burnt fur. Straight ahead to the western coast is the winding trail to Kerning City. To the left lies a rubble-strewn road to the center of Victoria Island.
A small flame bobs up and down along the mountain path. Choerry activates Dark Sight and skids down the slope undetected. Her pulse drums in her ears. She’s heard of ghosts before. Wraiths litter the subways back home. But she’s never seen a pure spirit. Back in Perion, she overheard the weapons dealer and general store keeper discussing a pestilent wave of Jr. Boogies—small, adorable round beings that flit in and out of visibility. They float at eye level and have two sharp horns. Flanked on either side with a tiny ball of fire, they trick travelers into following them off trails. Once engaged in combat, they activate curses and debuffs. Temporary blindness that drops accuracy to near zero, a crashing wave of fear that prevents jumping, a seal that locks all active skills. But if she can ambush it…
Choerry poises her right hand by her left shoulder. Her Claw is jet black and fashioned after a sand beetle. The wings and pincers are gilded with gold. The shiny carapace gleams in the moonlight, bringing back memories. Praises dripped from Hyunjin’s voice as she bestowed Choerry with the Black Scarab from her travels across the Nihal Desert. It was a belated gift for passing the third job advancement as a Hermit alongside Olivia.
Just as she sweeps her arm across her torso, her fingers clench hard. The thin blades of the black Tobi star dig into her gloved palm. It’s not a spirit. It’s a torch. Humans. Choerry listens to the heavy, rhythmic march of a soldier and the lithe steps of an archer.
“Hey, shouldn’t we find shelter? It’s going to dip below freezing soon,” says the Ranger. She fidgets with the strap of her quiver.
Choerry almost bursts into giggles when the White Knight’s deep sigh deflates her pauldrons. “But we’re so close to Sleepywood. Come on, Jinsoul. We can just rest at the sauna.”
Choerry tilts her head. They’re not just passing through the center of the island. They’re going under it. They’re challenging the dungeon where the tunnel system holds nothing but ice Drakes, poisonous geysers, and minotaurs wielding pole arms. And the resurrected Balrog.
The Ranger’s eyebrows furrow as she scouts the empty road. Her grip tightens around her cobalt Bow as if ready to nock it at the slightest shift in the winds. “Lip, please. Neither of us fight well in the dark. We have half a day’s journey left and at least another two down into the caves.”
Lip relents with a string of grumbles, but she’s not angry judging by Jinsoul’s gentle smile. Dining on her stash of eggs, Choerry watches them set up camp on a higher plateau. Lip is gruff in her movements, her chest plate clanging into everything so long as the job gets done. Jinsoul is graceful. Her fletched arrows are pristine. Her Bow is polished. She’s as quiet as Olivia when the Thief enters the apartment from the window (always from the window). If it weren’t for Jinsoul’s plainly round ears, Choerry might’ve mistaken her for one of the elves of Elluel.
“Damn it!”
Jinsoul is quick to her feet and places a palm on Lip’s helmet. She raises the visor and slips it off, setting it by their weapons along the wall. “What’s wrong?”
Lip falls to one knee with her head bowed. Jinsoul crouches and brushes a lock of hair behind Lip’s ear. “Look at our rations,” laments the knight.
Jinsoul digs into the pack for a loaf of bread. It turns a putrid purple before disintegrating into ash. “What— Why is it all rotting?” She takes out mushy brown apples, dark spotted eggs, and hunks of meat on the bone gone rancid. It was enough food for two whole days, four if they supplemented with potions. And it’s decaying right before their eyes.
“Must’ve been the poison mist from the Commander Skeletons we fought back at the Excavation Site.” Lip buries her face in her hands.
Choerry glances at the crumbles of yolk in her palm. Her stomach churns. She remembers what it was like to nibble around moldy chunks. To experiment with Olivia behind dumpsters how brown brown spots could get before making them sick. She remembers the internalized rage for dropping a luxurious haul of juice, oranges, loaded hot dogs, and fried chicken because she didn’t see the scrap metal sticking out of the mud in the alleyway. She remembers washing the food under a trickle of stored rainwater and tasting the dirt caked onto the soggy breaded skin, a tad too salty from her tears. She remembers Olivia hugging her close, snatching the filthiest drumstick from Choerry’s hands and chomping down on it until the bone was stripped clean. Choerry heard nothing but groans of appreciation for fresh meat, saw nothing but the light in Olivia’s eyes when tasting the fat of unambiguous protein.
With every swish of a star, every squeal of a fallen boar, the tension in Choerry’s gut uncoiled. Her eyes flicker to the top right of her peripherals; her speed and attack buffs blink out. Her chest heaves and her shoulders creak stiffly. But she’s down eighty stars and has a circle of loot to show for her effort. She sweeps around the map and fills up her inventory. Twenty hunks of juicy meat. Twelve bottles of pure water. A few lucky drops of marinated unagi on steaming rice. She stows away the pieces of Iron Boar armor; even junk sells for extra mesos.
When Choerry left, the two travelers had settled in for the night. They huddled under a blanket by a pitiful fire of branches that Lip ignited with her Red Katana. (A knight of the elements has truly bewitching powers, Choerry thinks.) Lip cuddled her trusty blade. Jinsoul was slumped against the wall with her Bow to her chest, a hand resting on her quiver. She must’ve taken the first watch but hiking through the canyons isn’t an easy feat. Choerry recalls the town of archers is surrounded by flat woodlands and farms.
Choerry clings to the smallest of rocky handholds to reach their camp. Lip snores loudly, muttering about polishing her shield. Kneeling by the dying flames, Choerry digs in her satchel. She drops all of the meat from her inventory, lines up the bottles of pure water, and lays the unagi platters gently on the ground. To the smoldering branches, she adds some of the firewood harvested from Axe Stumps on her way back. A light wind ushers the embers onto the dry planks until they catch. A warm spiced aroma fills the cave and tickles Jinsoul’s nose. Choerry stacks up the leftover firewood. Just as Jinsoul snorts herself awake, Choerry drops two more items and jumps.
“Hmm… Who’s… Oh my Goddess. Lip. Lip! Wake up!” The chest plate echoes obnoxiously from the pounding of Jinsoul’s calloused fist.
“What?! Where are the scoundrels?!” Serving as a pillow, Lip’s helmet rolls away when she springs up and slashes at the air.
Jinsoul barely deflects Lip’s sword with the limb of her Bow, protecting the pile of fresh meat.
Lip rubs the sleep from her eyes. “Did you hunt for all of this? Miss ‘I can’t shoot in the dark.’”
Jinsoul punches Lip’s shoulder at the deep drawling imitation. “Of course I didn’t.”
“Well I don’t see anyone else,” mumbles Lip. She squints beyond the mouth of the cave.
Choerry flattens against the rock on a ledge ten feet below.
“Thank you, whoever you are. We’ll repay you someday, somehow,” promises Jinsoul.
A warmth blooms in Choerry’s chest at Jinsoul’s smooth lilting voice. Then she flinches at Lip’s indignant squawk.
“To hell with you if you think we’re gonna give up!”
“Lip! What are you—”
“They left Return Scrolls! The nerve!”
“Please calm down. I’m sure they meant no insult. After all, can you really curse them for leaving us a feast?”
Choerry snickers. A Warrior’s pride isn’t to be trifled with. She’s positive Lip would rather drag herself to Sleepywood, delirious and with plenty of broken bones, than teleport home empty-handed. Choerry bites her nail as she mulls over what a luxury Return Scrolls are. But when Jinsoul tucks them into her pack while Lip’s busy shaking a bulky fist at the sky, Choerry’s sure her sacrifice is more valuable than the mesos she coughed up.
She knows what it’s like to starve, to shiver until her bones felt like jelly, to suffer the agony of a hundred scars. Though she sees the Ranger and White Knight have been well-off since birth, there’s one thing the three of them share—the insatiable need to conquer any challenge.
Choerry melts into the shadows and runs back to her concrete jungle with one more story.
The Wanderer
Olivia is economic. She evaluates everything.
Stay at the house? Benefits: there’s a solid roof, a bed, and a lightbulb. Costs: it’ll be demolished in two days, the bed is riddled with roaches, and the lightbulb has shattered. Decision: run away.
Steal from the general store? Benefits: she has meager food for the week, she’s small and fast, she won’t take much. Costs: it’s stealing, the vigilant owner will be on her in a second, and well, it’s stealing. Then again, does she have room to consider morals? Decision: steal.
She manages to scarf down two boiled eggs while browsing the shelves, stuffs an apple in her pocket, and snags a bottle of water. Unfortunately, the owner glimpses the bottle and chases after her with a broom. Fortunately, Olivia’s an adept climber and scrambles up a balcony out of sight while the owner trips over the discarded bottle in the alley.
Sometimes her analysis is faulty.
Fall in with the teenage gangs? Benefits: build street credit, acquire strength in numbers, insider information, and access to last scraps—that tastes much better than a heaping bowl of air. Costs: these are delinquents in the poorest, sketchiest city on Victoria Island. The kind that raids the subways and terrorizes the mall. The kind that makes people pull down the window shutters after nine at night. Decision: apply to be their grunt.
After a week of doing their dirty work, Olivia ends up at the bottom of an industrial vat with a rusted broken ladder, jeers that echo in her head for hours, and a throbbing sprained ankle twice its usual size. Oh, and her pockets are cleaned out of the few bronze mesos she scrounged up. They even took her browning apple. She slumps against the grimy steel container trying to convince herself that she’s only eleven and not every good decision will earn her a penthouse suite at the Gold Beach Resort.
Sometimes life throws her a bone. This one’s named Choerry. A chipper child seemingly immune to the city’s vengefulness, lack of humanity, and cesspools of tetanus. Choerry not only rappels into the vat to introduce herself, she also hikes Olivia up in a harness to rescue her. Out of the goodness of her heart? The unfamiliar words taste sour in Olivia’s mouth.
Trust Choerry? Benefit: there’s something irrevocably stable in the way Choerry laces her fingers between Olivia’s. She holds on like she’s making a promise. Cost: in the city of thieves, Olivia’s not sure what Choerry can promise.
Maybe she can’t promise anything except her presence. Maybe that’s the largest payout Olivia’s ever imagined.
Decision? Olivia thinks it’s not up to her when Choerry smiles at the orange glow of the evening sky and Olivia just freezes. She’s kinda annoyed, and kinda okay with it.
~|~|~|~
Hyunjin explains over dinner (a real dinner with protein, carbs, and vegetables) that Kerning City is both a city of thieves and Thieves. Something clicks for Choerry. Her eyes widen and suddenly she’s beaming. She radiates energy that Olivia wants to shove back in because it’s such a waste and who knows how long they have to live.
Choerry gasps and almost knocks over her drink. “Are you one? I want to join!”
Olivia stares at them in bewilderment. Hyunjin isn’t even an adult by human standards. But by thief (Thief?) standards, she’s in her prime. How much more does she know? What stories has Choerry heard?
Hyunjin pulls out her Diamond Dagger and stabs it into the table, adding another coarse notch into the wood. Olivia never sees where it slips out of Hyunjin’s clothes. She never will. She realizes in its presence, she and Choerry will always have an escape route. She also realizes that makes them dependent. It gives her a rash.
“Teach me.”
Hyunjin lazily pushes bits of rubbery egg yolk around her plate. “Teach you what? How to steal? How to run? How to hogtie a pest?” She chuckles while sifting through the coins she confiscated from the hooligan at the swamp. She holds one up to the light, admiring the embossed maple leaf.
Olivia grits her teeth. She spins a fork between her fingers and whips it across the table. The prongs vibrate solemnly before clattering to the floor. The gold meso rolls under the couch. Hyunjin narrows her eyes at Olivia, her fingers pinching the air.
“Teach me to survive.”
Anyone else would’ve given Olivia the bum’s rush for her insolence. But Hyunjin’s the type to evaluate by skills and potential. Merit comes later. Choerry flinging a Dagger at the same spot twice earned them a clean bed, showers, and hot meals. Olivia knows she has to prove why Hyunjin’s feeding two mouths instead of one.
Hyunjin’s voice is silky like a deep purr. “Now that’s a Thief with a capital T.”
~|~|~|~
Bandits are like vipers, Assassins like smoke.
Bandits stalk their prey and strike from blindspots with their blades. They live off the thrill of a quick victory in close combat. Practical and forthright. Assassins on the other hand like to stay up high. They’re a mischievous bunch who favor distance. Toying with their targets, throwing stars laced with venom to distract, chipping away at HP until it’s too late to heal. It’s an unspoken rule that their reputation tanks the moment an enemy makes contact.
“You’re built like me,” Hyunjin muses. “Did you choose the other path because you have good aim or…?” Hyunjin spreads the wings of a Stirge plushie from the pile on the younger girls’ bed.
Olivia kicks at the purple bat dancing by her feet; her long legs now extend past the edge of the mattress. She rotates a basic cross star like a loose gear, inspecting its blunt edges. “Because I like sunsets.”
“Sure,” scoffs Hyunjin, tossing the toy onto Choerry’s pillow. Her smirk reveals two pointed canines. It’s a wonder they stay sharp given how often Hyunjin bites on her Daggers.
Olivia grumbles under her breath.
“Congrats on ranking as a Hermit. Sorry I missed the ceremony. Hope this makes up for it.”
Hyunjin opens a trade window and drops three new sets of throwing stars into Olivia’s inventory. Fully recharged to max capacity. Its wide black-rimmed open center provides an easy grip and shaves off weight. The eight symmetrical points are beautifully crafted and balanced. Olivia can picture the critical damage rising from her targets in large red numbers.
“Ilbi stars?” Olivia marvels at the info flooding in. Plus twenty-seven attack stat, four more than Choerry’s Tobi stars. And well, twenty-seven more than the dinky star in her hand.
“D’ya mind keeping it this time?” Hyunjin chuckles.
Olivia blushes down to her neck. Every time Hyunjin gave her a small gift from quests abroad, she’d hand it off to Choerry. What Olivia gave up in stat boosts, she made up during training. Early on, Hyunjin showed them a Hidden Street in the abandoned subway. She called it a jump quest. To reach the end, they’d have to dodge pesky flying Stirges (Choerry wanted one as a pet), avoid mobile electrocution fences, and leap across floating platforms only two steps wide. The courses were infuriating, the reward was moderate, the satisfaction was immense. Since hitting level forty-five, Choerry hadn’t returned. The subways were too stuffy and dark. Olivia liked the solitude.
“Don’t worry about Choerry. I have something for her too.”
Olivia eyes the hefty package peeking out of Hyunjin’s satchel. The slightest itch of jealousy crawls across her skin, then it fades. Choerry deserves it. She earned them this life. She earned them a life when Olivia didn’t know what she’d been fighting for on the streets.
“Do you want to see it?” Hyunjin offers.
Olivia reaches out for the smooth onyx scarab. A symbol of immortality, rebirth, transformation, and protection among the desert people. “It fits her.”
Choerry, who makes surviving in the slums look like the mark of a hero. Choerry, who brings justice through small civilian acts despite life denying her so much. Choerry, who lurks in the shadows to brighten the world.
Hyunjin tucks away the Claw. “I was going to get you a matching one, but she begged me not to. Don’t ask why, I have no idea.”
When Choerry gets home (Olivia’s breath hitches at the word every time), she drags them up to the roof where they swing their legs over the ledge by the rumbling ventilation system. Hyunjin rests an arm on a bent knee and leans back, eyes closed and face soaking up the last bout of light. Choerry turns to the burning horizon as she launches into a play-by-play of her recent quest at the mall. Olivia pictures the agitated Bubble Teas firing tapioca bullets out of their straws outside the food court. She imagines the Claw Machines running rampant on the fourth floor; Choerry has a whole collection of looted Yeti and Pepe dolls on her side of the bed. Then Choerry fits a fedora dropped by a Male Mannequin over Olivia’s bandana. When the sun finally sinks beyond the edge of the world, Hyunjin turns in for the night, reminding them to double-bolt the window.
“A Cheap Amplifier dropped this.” Choerry pulls out an extravagant red and gold package.
Olivia recognizes the maple leaf stamped on its side. “For the Maple Anniversary Festival?”
“Mhm. I’ve been killing mobs every night since it started, but I only got one today. So here.”
It takes a lot of restraint not to push the gift back into Choerry’s hands. “What for?”
Olivia flips through the possibilities.
For sitting on this rooftop. For descending the stairs in the Jazz Fusion Bar hand in hand. For grinding levels together until their profiles show a bold seventy. For climbing through shattered windows, swinging from cranes, and vaulting across cargo lots. For splitting apples and eggs.
“For staying with me.” Choerry plays with Olivia’s fingers, gaze fixated on her shoes.
Olivia tugs the gold ribbon loose. The box poofs out of existence and drops something into her inventory. She equips the exclusive Claw with a gold-trimmed, crimson plated bracer. Two gold spikes protrude from the knuckles of a black glove of the finest leather. An immaculate maple leaf is welded on top with a jade orb embedded in the center. Olivia’s eyes flicker to the translucent name floating above her wrist. Soulchaser. It disappears as her focus shifts to Choerry’s anxious smile.
Olivia wants to shake Hyunjin awake and smack that grin off her face. Because maybe there’s more to being an Assassin than chasing sunsets.
~|~|~|~
Rumor has it a mischievous rogue serves as a knight to a foreign empress. Dashingly handsome, he holds the essence of midnight in his palm, commanding swarms of spirit bats to harass enemies and leech their energy.
If Olivia was him, she’d rain bat droppings on the dunce who switched the town signs outside of Kerning City. Instead of strolling up to Nautilus Harbor in the Pirates’ domain, she gazes upon the crags of Lith Harbor. Tiny as ants from her view, the townsfolk of the humble port weave between huts of white slab walls and blue domed roofs. Perhaps she should’ve braved the swamps and cut through Sleepywood to get to the southeastern shore instead of going around. She shakes her head. Thinking about the stench of the marshes brings nausea in waves. With a scowl, she climbs down from the peak toward the main road.
A sharp bang reverberates from her right. Olivia slips on the moss clinging to the shale, damp from weeks of being shrouded in cold mist. Her ears ring when her head clips a jagged boulder. The edges of her Claw scrape against the rock as she desperately grasps for handholds, sparks forming a flaming trail. She slams into a short stretch of level ground. It knocks the air out of her lungs. It might’ve rearranged her organs too. She slowly rolls onto her side.
If I could just get a potion—
A sudden explosion shakes the valley. The mountain ruptures. A black crevice inches toward her from the slope and stops right under her nose. A shuddering exhale sends up a dusty cloud of sediment. Then with a deafening crunch, the overhang breaks clean off.
Falling, falling, for so long. She reaches for the clouds and laughs.
I did it Choerry. I touched the sky.
~|~|~|~
Salt. All she tastes is salt. Her chapped lips sting. feels like sandpaper. Her eyelids weigh a ton. Her joints feel as rusty as the valves in the warehouse where she spent her ninth birthday. It’s terrifying, floating between consciousness and limbo while being crushed by the gravity of paralysis.
“By Pianus’ bulbous forehead, she’s fading! The coc’nuts! Where be the coc’nuts?!”
“Coconuts are not the solution to everything— OW!”
“Knew that thick head o’ yours’d come ’n handy.”
Loud. So loud. Words swim in and out like parasites wriggling through her melted brain. If these imbeciles would just shut up, she could rest in peace.
“Get that furry sewer rat off of me. This. Instant.”
“Pfft. Speakin’ as if ye ain’t one. Jungeun, c’mere.”
Something screeches into Olivia’s ear. It dissolves into a string of hoots, gargling, and chittering. A burst of sweetness drips onto her tongue. Nectar of the Goddess, it has to be. Her bones no longer threaten to pierce her flesh from the inside-out. Oxygen sweeps into her lungs and her veins pulse with renewed vigor. The jackhammering in Olivia’s skull finally ceases. She manages a squeaky groan.
“Well lookie here, she lives.” A soft hoot of affirmation follows.
“Hallelujah! Blessèd coc’nuts!”
Olivia’s heart jolts at the booming, high-pitched voice and the hands jostling her by the shoulders. Gathering every bit of her strength, she cranes her sore neck and squints at the shadowed faces towering over her. An unfamiliar ebb and flow tilts the world.
Water. Why is there water? “Where- Where am I?” Olivia rasps.
The shortest person has two heads. She scratches both of them and replies, “In one o’ my finest oak barrels. Yer welcome.” A smug howling chuckle from the smaller head affirms this information.
“Ain’t this fun?! We be adrift together! I love team bonding!”
“Chuu, quiet down, we are two feet apart,” chides the tallest one.
Olivia points with a trembling hand. “You… have such a… fancy hat.” She coughs and grasps her head. The hair by her temple is matted with dried blood. “What happened?” Olivia pushes herself up, but everything tips out of balance. Arms shoot out to steady her by the elbows. Nails dig into her leather armor, keeping her upright and close.
“Careful now,” advises Fancy Hat. “Squirm too much and you’ll fall into the ocean.” She speaks with a slight accent that Olivia can’t pinpoint in her delirium.
Olivia blinks owlishly. Her neck creaks like an old door hinge as she surveys their surroundings. Steep stone spikes barricade them on three sides at the end of the inlet. Behind Olivia, a narrow corridor leads to open waters. She spreads her feet on the floor of the barrel. Her knees press against the inside. She’s barely squatting while leaning forward to distribute her weight. Fancy Hat and Two Heads chain the metal grip of her barrel to theirs, keeping the four of them in a floating pod.
“Here! Drink more coc’nut juice! It solves everything! See?!” Chuu gestures at all of Olivia like she’s a golden trophy. “Everything!”
Olivia scrutinizes the stranger. She seems to be vibrating in her barrel across from Olivia in their little cluster. Even her whispers thunder with extreme punctuation marks. Olivia tentatively takes the offered coconut half but doesn’t drink.
“OOooh hee ha! Ha! HA!”
Olivia raises an incredulous eyebrow. Two Heads to her left is actually a short girl with blindingly blonde hair that rolls down her back in waves. Her one and only head has a red and black striped bandana with a skull etched on the front. Her second head is actually a tiny monkey perched on her shoulder. Its chestnut fur is so fluffy, its head resembles a lion’s mane. Tufts poke out from under a dented helicopter cap. The monkey raises its own coconut husk to its lips, encouraging Olivia to do the same with a toothy grin. Strangely, she’s more willing to listen to the monkey than Chuu. She doesn’t trust people who hide their foreheads with bangs.
“Why are we in oak barrels?” she asks the party. The coconut juice is refreshing. In her peripherals, her red HP bar inches to full capacity. She’ll have a nasty scar by her temple, but the wound is closed.
Fancy Hat clears and points at Two Heads. “Gowon summoned exploding kegs—”
Olivia spits out her coconut juice.
Chuu blinks, chin dripping. “Works best when digested, but whatever floats yer barrel!” She reaches out to splash saltwater onto her face. Her smile never wavers.
“Sorry,” Olivia mutters. “Um, where are the explosives?”
Gowon and her monkey point behind Chuu. Olivia gapes at the floating mass of TNT and gunpowder bobbing against the steep cliff face. Just before the panic sets in, a coconut husk flies across her vision and thunks Fancy Hat in the face.
The woman pinches her reddening nose and yells in a congested voice. “Control your damned pet!” The plumes in her hat shake with fury.
Gowon scoffs. Her eyes roll back so much, Olivia only sees the whites. “Jungeun ain’t some village mutt! She be an emotional support companion!” The monkey hollers and gestures rudely with her hands.
“Why you insolent little—” Fancy Hat lurches forward. A hefty clump of kelp sloshes into her barrel.
Jungeun hoots in provocation. She leaps onto Olivia’s shoulder, steals her empty husk, and chucks it. It barely misses Fancy Hat by an inch.
“Better apologize, Madame Yves,” drawls Gowon. She inspects her nails absentmindedly as Jungeun’s tantrum escalates. “Or you’ll be needin’ a bigger hat.”
Chuu whisper-shouts at Olivia. “Yves found lil’ organic presents on her pillow in the cabins! Stuffed Jungeun in a soggy boot! Turned out to be Ribbon Pig droppings! Escaped from the cargo hold! Jungeun doesn’t take kindly to havin’ a jar o’ turds shaken at her! Or smelling like boot! What was I sayin’?! Oh!! Yves be hidin’ a huge bald spot! Like, GIGANTIC!!” Fancy Hat glares at Chuu who raises her hands in defense. “I love the color! Brings out yer eyes! Matches the coc’nuts!!”
“That gigan’ic head be a fat coc’nut!” Gowon blows a raspberry. Jungeun joins in.
They’re insane, Olivia thinks. Fists fly and water splashes between the jostling barrels.
“Says the imbecile who triggered a landslide,” Fancy Hat spits back. She jabs a finger into Gowon’s shoulder. Jungeun tips over into the back of the barrel.
“Don’t go pointin’ yer dainty nails at me, yer highness. It ain’t me fault the round shots nicked the cliff. M’ aim was straight ’n true, then someone rocked the pod!”
“Pardon!!” yelps Chuu. “Sharks were close to chompin’ Yves in the ! When she was shootin’ at the Jellyfish! So I punched their noses back to Pianus’ cave! Wham!! Bam!! KAPOW!!” Chuu summons a small tornado with an uppercut.
Fancy Hat’s plumed tricorn flies off, revealing a stubby patch of scalp amidst lush brown locks. Olivia grinds her teeth to keep quiet. The de facto captain shoves the hat back on her head, curses spilling from her lips. The two women plus one primate launch into a tirade as Chuu bellows a sea shanty.
Olivia scans the equipment adorning the bickering strangers. Gowon has a portable ballistic weapon strapped to her back. Matte charcoal with flames painted around the flared muzzle. A Cannoneer? Olivia’s never met one on the mainland. Fancy Hat has a similar pair of blazing pistols. Weathered holsters hang off a studded belt (Olivia can’t tell which of nine). She may seem like the biggest loser in this barrel pod, but Olivia’s dead sure the Outlaw could rain hellfire on an enemy crew. Chuu on the other hand doesn’t have the same lithe frame. She’s small, but balanced and toned. Square shoulders, solid core. Built like Hyunjin’s cool ranch chips. She’s a fighter. Equipped with maroon steel fists and spiked arm guards. A Marauder who settles disputes with her Knuckles, a bloody lip, and an attitude to risk it all.
Yup. Definitely insane, and definitely Pirates.
The few swashbuckling adventurers loitering around the Jazz Fusion Bar always boasted about their passive swimming skills. Olivia studies the ominously churning waves. Monsters block the inlet, so their expertise wouldn’t help much. By the sounds of it, the Pirates already tried fighting their way out. All they got in return were re-spawned enemies, a flunked tutorial in landscaping, and an unconscious Thief falling from the sky.
Olivia grimaces. Her hand rifles through her pocket for a star. She loops three of her fingers through the center, her thumb pressing against the fine tips of the eight symmetrical points as she rotates it. She puts just enough pressure to coax out a dose of adrenaline.
Her breath hitches. Her ears attune to every wingbeat of a gull and slosh of the tide. The afternoon sea breeze smells sharp and musty. It pushes against her like a heavy weight in the boxing ring of the Bar’s basement hideout.
She was only a Rogue who hadn’t hit her growth spurt from malnutrition, greeting every sunrise with a bruised back and busted lip. Hyunjin would curl a firm hand around Olivia’s neck, press their sweaty foreheads together, eyes unblinking, and growl, Stars and don’t make you a Thief. Your head does. Hyunjin pushes the small child into the ring again—back to the present. Think. Think.
This part of the continent is scarce of floating platforms. The cliffs are too steep to climb, even if they combined all of their agility skills. There’s nothing to hold, nothing to jump on, nothing to hook onto— Not up.
Olivia counts the ripples to the nicked grey fin slicing through the water. Maybe twenty-five feet away. “Rope.”
“What?!” screeches Chuu, cupping a hand behind her copiously pierced ear. Gowon and Fancy Hat freeze in their tug-of-war over a distressed Jungeun suspended by her lanky limbs.
“Fancy Hat, got any rope?”
“No, but…” Fancy Hat drops Jungeun, whose head takes a dunk in the water at the center of their pod. She tugs at her tangled belts and harnesses. Then she rolls her eyes up at the frayed plume hanging limply over the rim of her tricorn. “That is not my name,” she says indignantly.
“That’ll do,” Olivia nods, distracted.
Fancy Hat huffs and unfastens all but the ones holding her pistols and her pants up. The Pirates watch curiously as Olivia strings them together, the leather and buckles snaking around her feet.
“Can you summon another keg?”
“Scheming somethin’, are ye?” Gowon’s sly grin is charmingly lopsided, revealing a silver tooth. Jungeun shakes the water out of her fluffy mane and perches sulkily on Gowon’s shoulder, squeezing the brine out of her propeller cap. Gowon snaps her fingers. A handsome oak barrel bobs in the water by the pod with a cartoonish sooty icon branded on the lid—a lit fuse sprouting out of a skull and crossbones.
“Chuu smash?!” the Marauder yips excitedly. Jungeun hoots and hollers in response, puffing out her chest and bounding onto the barrel. The two punch at the lid until it splinters open. Jungeun and Gowon fling the explosives into the ocean. “Faster!” Chuu demands. Jungeun screeches her way up Gowon’s arm before Chuu lifts the barrel above her head. She shakes everything out with a bloop. The leaking gunpowder pollutes the once sapphire water.
Olivia scratches her head, wincing at the sting of salt on her wound. “What would fit best?” she mutters, squinting at the swirling shadows in the distance.
“Don’t tell me you’re thinking of…”
Olivia smirks at the Outlaw. “I hope you know how to tame beasts of the sea, captain.”
Fancy Hat blushes. “I-I’m no captain.” Scrutinizing eyes scan Olivia from bandana to barrel rim. “You’re insane,” Fancy Hat scoffs. Then her eyes light ablaze with hunger. “Chuu, salvage the quarter and bilge hoops!”
“Aye aye!” Chuu salutes and smashes the barrel. The wooden planks blast apart. Chuu tosses the largest metal ring high into the air. It catches around Olivia’s shoulders and shimmies down to her waist. “Score!!” Chuu hands the other ring to Fancy Hat.
A sinister aura seeps into Olivia’s bones. Its sheer power makes her want to shrink away. She realizes it’s emanating from Fancy Hat. It’s almost enough to make Olivia call her Yves.
The orders come out in barks. “Secure the hoop! I need rivets, now!”
The others work faster, anticipating every command. Chuu slams the smaller hoop down over the top of Fancy Hat’s barrel. Gowon pulls out a drill from Jungeun-knows-where. She shaves precise holes in seconds, then locks the ring into the wooden planks with steel bolts.
“Thief. Carve out—”
Olivia is already leaning over with her Claw poised. She strikes like lightning, puncturing holes into each of two staves perfectly spaced at shoulder width. Every cut with a throwing star sheers away the splinters until a crack propagates neatly across the planks. The top portion breaks clean off. Fancy Hat threads the belt-rope through one hole. Olivia does the same on the other side. They tie the free ends to opposite points on the bilge hoop. It’s a crude harness and reins, but Olivia’s certain nobody in this sorry excuse of a party got here without making miracles happen with scraps.
Gowon and Chuu paddle with their hands until the pod rotates. Fancy Hat’s barrel leads at the front of the diamond with Gowon’s at the back. Fancy Hat rests her calloused hands on the slack reins.
Olivia tracks the steady swish of a tall tail fin. A smooth bulky head breaks the water’s surface before diving back down. Olivia bends her knees for stability as she follows the shadow. It swims closer, sensing no movement from the humans, then makes a u-turn. Olivia channels her focus into her Claw. She throws the hoop into the water. It sinks right in shark’s path. Its head thrashes wildly, trying to free itself from the confining noose.
Olivia lets loose a barrage of stars into the water. She hits the sharks swarming close to the surface and tags them with her Assassin’s Mark. A small demonic face with empty eyes and shadowy wisps appears above three of the sharks. With another Triple Throw, their health drains and their bodies phase out. The Assassin’s Mark triggers a flurry of ghostly stars that whip around unhindered by the water, targeting nearby enemies in an aftershock. Pandemonium breaks out among the herd. The captured brute finally opts for a retreat and jets forward, pulling the pod of barrels across the ocean.
“WOOHOOOOO!!” Chuu crows at the top of her lungs. Her grin widens until her pliable cheeks ripple from the velocity of the wind. Spittle trails from the corner of .
A glop hits Jungeun square on the nose. The monkey howls shrilly and drops to the bottom of Gowon’s barrel. A small hand rises over the rim to blindly chuck a rotten coconut at Chuu.
Another shark flanks the pod. It cuts through the current like a torpedo. Fancy Hat yanks hard on the reins. The captive shark changes course, following the mountains south. Jungeun face-plants into Gowon’s Hand Cannon. The coconut flies straight past Chuu’s ear and into the advancing shark’s mouth just as it closes in with open jaws. The shark’s jagged teeth crush the husk, unleashing a noxious odor bomb as the moldy coconut meat crumbles. Olivia sees the shark writhing in the water before phasing out of existence. She takes a second to lament over the decent loot left in its wake. In the distance, she spots fishing vessels pulling into port.
The pod s forward, then rebounds off the rocky shoals banking the harbor. Olivia’s eyes bulge out. Almost in slow motion, she watches the reins snap at a rusty buckle, bent under the pressure of hauling four grown women at sea. The pod swerves out of control with only one side of the reins still attached to the head barrel.
Fancy Hat aims a blazing pistol at the shuddering chain links of the remaining rein. “Gowon! Prepare for liftoff! On my count!”
“Aye aye!”
“Prepare for what?!” Olivia screeches, her hair whipping wildly in the wind.
“Liftoff! Y’know, like ssssSSHHHHHHHH BRRRRR FWOOP!!” Chuu angles a flat hand toward the sky.
“Jungeun! Get yer outta there! I need that!” Elbow-deep in the barrel of her Hand Cannon, Gowon yanks a flailing Jungeun out by the tail.
Jungeun’s once lustrous mane is now in matted tufts sticky from coconut juice, her tiny teeth clamp onto her drenched cap, and patchy smears of gunpowder paint her body. Quaking with crazed twitching eyes, her limbs and tail curl around Gowon’s shoulder for stability.
Gowon cleans out her canon, pours in a sack of gunpowder, and loads a round shot. The Cannoneer looked so frail with her airy voice and short stature when arguing with Fancy Hat who towered over her. Now, all Olivia sees is a calm seasoned sailor, a ruffian soldier, with toned arms positioning the cannon at a nearly vertical angle over the rim of her barrel. Her steely eyes lock onto Fancy Hat’s profile.
“One!”
Fancy Hat yanks on the rein with all her might. The shark veers right toward open water.
“Two!”
A silver bullet rips through the chains. The pod whips left, spinning clockwise as if trapped in a whirlpool.
“Fire in the hole!” Gowon pulls the trigger. The shot blasts into the water, bolstered by Gowon’s mana. The recoil propels the pod straight up into the air.
Olivia spies a flurry of hands, human and monkey, reloading the cannon and aiming it parallel to the ocean. The mountains whiz past once. When the pod faces the distant harbor, Gowon fires her cannon again. Everything goes silent. Olivia lurches back and her neck cramps painfully. The second recoil leaves her feeling like her guts were left behind in the mist.
Flying in a barrel, tumbling down a mountain, tripping over a rusted roof gutter, being pushed into an empty vat. Free falling—she’ll never get used to it.
The pod skids into the harbor. Each landing slams the bottom lids against the surface of the water as if it was concrete. Olivia’s knees buckle when her barrel crashes into a humble rowboat tied at the dock. She concentrates all of her remaining strength into her legs. She leaps out of the barrel before it splinters into driftwood with the boat. She tucks into a forward roll along the dock, then sinks onto her knees. Her breaths come out in wheezes. The wooden planks quake under the weight of Fancy Hat tumbling next to her.
How? Olivia’s eyebrows knit together as she stares at the woman sprawled before her, chest heaving. How is she still smiling?
Salty droplets stream down the Pirate’s temple into her hair. Her earrings of precious stones and metals glint in the light of the setting sun, too many on a slightly pointed ear for Olivia to count. Her lips curl back, her white teeth shine. Her eyes crinkle when she squeezes Olivia’s aching shoulder. She shouts again and again. We did it! We did it! Olivia only hears a high pitched buzz, but the words drum in her ears all the same. A deep rumble emanates from Fancy Hat’s chest and electrifies the air. Olivia realizes with a start that it’s contagious, because her lips part and she doubles over too.
Laughter.
Chuu tackles Olivia from behind, her steel Knuckles digging into Olivia’s armor. The world turns on its head when another force topples them over, flattening poor Fancy Hat underneath. They’re an unflattering heap of limbs and sand. Olivia watches their shadows. At the top of the mound, a small scraggly figure with a curled tail waves its tiny fists in triumph.
~|~|~|~
Pooling their money, the motley crew buys a creaky boat from a retired fisherman at Lith Harbor. Fancy Hat drafts up a repair plan. Gowon scours the shore for free resources with Chuu as her human axe. Olivia’s slow, more accustomed to carrying her own weight with speed than crafting with lumber, but she’s smart and they’re patient.
Olivia pauses in her hammering. As the setting sun lights up the sea like a tranquil flare, Chuu waddles along the beach foraging for clams and crabs. Gowon and Jungeun work in tandem hoisted up on the splintered mast. Fancy Hat saws perfect planks without ever measuring.
The musty breeze brings a sense of calm and safety.
Olivia wipes the sweat from her brow and wonders when she became so invested. Though a far cry from Choerry and Hyunjin, these three idiots with their uneven copper tans and briny scent somehow remind her of home.
She can’t wait to go back, yet it feels like she’s leaving all over again.
~|~|~|~
Olivia walks out of the conference room in awe. The Thieves have a solemn reverence for the Dark Lord. There’s a silent dedication of one’s life to duty, to fighting for the little guy and beautifying the world one slum at a time. But the Pirates…
Kyrin inspires loyalty among the lawless. She commands the Natulius, a gargantuan whale-shaped war submarine that leads Maple World’s largest independent Pirate fleet. Her presence exerts an oppressive force that demands nothing less than respect from onlookers. As if by magic, she transforms chaos into sheer raw power.
Yet it seems dampened, almost like watching a rerun. Like I’ve met a great captain before. Tucking away a scroll, Olivia smirks as she approaches the farthest cabin on the lower deck. She intuitively dodges the first coconut flung her way, appraises the new dent in the door, and counters another airborne fruit with a star.
“Wasted!!” Chuu wails on her knees. “Me precious coc’nuts…” She claws at the ground, scooping as many coconuts into her arms as possible and stashing them under her bed.
“They be attractin’ pests! Look ‘round. This ain’t no turd farm!” Gowon growls. She kicks up a pile of suspicious brown pebbles. “And you!” She jabs a finger at the scruff-ball sitting on Chuu’s pillow. “Yer s’pposed to be in bed by ten every night! Lights out when cap’n says so!”
Jungeun stares at Chuu with watery eyes and a hand around Chuu’s thumb. Chuu shrugs helplessly. Jungeun guiltily wipes the shredded coconut mustache from , scrubs her hands in a basin, and curls up in a small pillowed basket (woven underwater by Chuu in the flooded engine room) hanging above Gowon’s bunk.
“I’m not a captain.”
Olivia raises an eyebrow as Fancy Hat strides into the room reading a report. The mumbled words come out automatically, but Olivia detects a slight waver in her voice.
“You too! Get to bed, ye scallywag!” Gowon snatches at Olivia’s collar.
Olivia leans against the wall and stares down as Gowon breaks a sweat trying to shove her toward the spare bunk. “I’m leaving.”
Gowon wags a finger under Olivia’s nose so forcefully, she almost jabs it up a nostril. “Now lookie here. We ain’t like nobody wanderin’ the decks without a purpose.”
“No. I mean I’m leaving the Nautilus. Back to Kerning City.”
Olivia’s words cut through the raucous shouting. The only noise comes from the solitary drips of coconut juice into a bowl. Chuu’s jaw falls slack. Gowon’s eyes begin to water and her lips tremble. She balls her hands into fists as if angry for displaying anything other than spite or pride.
“When?” Fancy Hat almost sounds bored as she stashes the report in her bedside drawer.
Guilt washes over Olivia, much to her confusion. “Tonight.” An uncomfortable lump forms in . She crosses her arms, pulling into herself.
After spending nearly a week among Pirates, Olivia should expect the unexpected. Still, it catches her off-guard when Gowon launches into a breathless profane monologue about betrayal and cowardice while loading a traveling pack with potions, extra socks, a blanket, a small pouch of mesos, and a Return Scroll. Jungeun’s hollering adds to the cacophony. She leaps out of her basket to stash an iron round shot into the pack before gesticulating vulgar hand signs at everyone. Chuu is all tears and snot while returning the shot to Gowon’s personal arsenal. She then stuffs bottles of fresh coconut juice into the side of the pack and layers parcels of cold food from Tangyoon’s kitchen on top. (Olivia will miss the panda’s cooking; she didn’t think some of the best meals of her life would be from a war submarine’s canteen.)
Chuu crushes Olivia in a hug, barely aware of the serrated arm guards a hair’s breadth away from slicing into Olivia’s cheek. Gowon grabs Olivia by the scruff of her shirt with a newfound strength and bum rushes her out of the cabin, throws the pack at her, and slams the door shut with a final string of obscene verbs that Olivia most certainly won’t follow through with.
Olivia blinks to adjust to the dark corridor. The cabin door creaks open. Olivia grabs onto the outstretched hand to pull herself up. Shouldering the pack, she follows Fancy Hat up to the main deck and out of the submarine. Olivia pauses at the edge of the gangplank when she realizes the Outlaw isn’t following her.
“Spare a few minutes?” Fancy Hat nods at the floating islands behind the Nautilus.
Olivia follows her around the outer platforms of the submarine, their heels thudding against the steel shell. With a Haste boost, Olivia jumps effortlessly from the roof to the small suspended mass of land. Fancy Hat shoos away a seagull. Olivia swings her legs over the edge of the island, suddenly transported two hundred miles away to a dingy apartment roof. But the dewy blades of grass poking between her fingers and the salty breeze pull her back. She lifts her gaze from the harbor to the clear sky. Streaks of stars litter the black void of unexplored space.
Nothing like chasing sunsets.
“Are they upset?” Olivia cringes because she doesn’t remember the last time she asked about someone’s state of mind.
“Extremely.” Fancy Hat makes a show of dusting off her corset blouse with disinterest. “Which means… you are in the clear.”
Olivia unconsciously releases a sigh at Fancy Hat’s easy smile. “But that makes no sense.”
“Doesn’t it? Nobody makes a fuss if they don’t care deeply. Besides, we are Pirates. We live by codes. One being, you do what you must. You have a family.”
“I do.”
“Well. Know that should you ever return,” Fancy Hat pulls out a pistol from its holster, “you will always have a crew here.”
Olivia stares at the thick silver bullet that drops into her open palm. “Is that what they told you? When you joined.”
Fancy Hat raises an eyebrow. Olivia awkwardly points at the Pirate’s concealed ear.
“You’re quite observant. They were the smallest and roundest anyone’s ever seen.”
Olivia shrugs. “Plus you speak all… proper. None of the ye’s and be’s.” Olivia fishes through her memories for a flashing billboard outside the gentrified Kerning Mall. An ad for toy weapons with an elegant elf at the forefront, glowing magical arrows loaded into Bowguns. “Big change, wielding pistols.”
“Old habits die hard. Why not make use of the dexterity I’m born with?” Fancy Hat chuckles.
“So why’d you leave Elluel?” Olivia doesn’t know much about the city of elves except that it had recently thawed from a freezing curse placed over century ago.
Fancy Hat’s eyes twinkle. “There’s something about knocking someone off their high horse. Then there’s the thrill of bullets firing all around. Smoke billowing up and the ringing in your ears after a hard-fought battle. The churning of the waves while dueling your equal on the tallest mast of an enemy ship. Diving into the depths to loot dungeons and praying you don’t become just another ghost in the tales.”
“You fell in love.” There was no other way to describe it.
“With adventure.” It comes out airy and warm, like a wistful sigh. “There’s no room for such vulgar dreams in enchanted forests. I was b with energy and had no outlet. It was like treading on eggshells, skulking in ancient libraries in robes with cords and sashes and— Well, do I look like a scholar to you?”
“Not with that fancy hat.” Olivia swats at the plumes fluttering above their heads like a cat. Damn, Hyunjin’s rubbing off on her. Olivia sits on her hands to keep them still.
“I admit I still tend toward a bit of flare and decorum. Piracy is no excuse for sloppiness. Anyway, academia was never my forte and neither was being a military pawn. Don’t get me wrong, Queen Mercedes is a formidable leader but— You see, Pirates don’t fight for a kingdom. We fight for a purpose. For the freedom of all, for strength and merit. We crave the chase. We fight for ourselves. We are our own home. Does… that sound selfish?”
Olivia shrugs, pulling her knees up to her chest. “You’re talking to someone who’s lived in a dumpster with the stolen weekly paper as a blanket. Being selfish means survival.”
“Right.” Fancy Hat taps her chin in thought. Olivia inches back, feeling like an unearthed sculpture being appraised at an illegal auction. “You know, I don’t think you’re being selfish enough.”
“What do you mean? It’s how I got this far. I don’t have the luxury of waging war over spoils all over the world at the drop of a—” Olivia’s eyes shift to the plumes.
“Luxury,” Fancy Hat drawls teasingly, “isn’t always solid gold.”
Speaking cryptically ticks Olivia off. She never had time to dabble in riddles. Yet somehow, it’s endearing hearing Fancy Hat mutter with a pseudo sage-like hum. The clouds recede and the cratered moon basks the Nautilus in its eery luminous light. The Outlaw’s ear twitches, a helix piercing near an imperceptible point poking out of her hair.
“I glimpsed it, back on the docks of Lith Harbor. You had a spark,” Fancy Hat whispers like it’s a secret.
Olivia swallows hard, subduing the warmth spreading in her chest, because it just might be.
“I think you’ve survived long enough. Come find us when you want to live.”
The memories of blasting onto a beach consume Olivia. Her fingers unconsciously tangle in the grass as if anchoring her. She wills herself to let go. Scooting to the ledge until her feet press into the open face of the soil, she smirks over her shoulder.
“When you’re itching to spend some of that loot, come get a drink at the Jazz Fusion Bar. Catch ya later, Captain Yves.”
“Wait. You just called me Yv— Hey!”
Olivia gives a cheeky two- salute and springs off the floating island. Gathering her focus, she distributes mana into every muscle as her Haste boost takes effect. She bounds off the hydroplane of the Nautilus’ tail and lands lightly on the dock.
“I’m not a captain!” comes a faint shout.
Olivia turns and cups her hands around , straining to get the words out among a sudden fit of nasally giggles. “You are to me!” Then she melts into the shadows of the woods.
~|~|~|~
Olivia never thought she’d miss the rusty odor of the city, nor the endless clangs of cranes in cargo lots and smog from the steel mills. Walking across a concrete rooftop, she breathes in the polluted air. It stings her nose and sends a shiver down her spine. Her heart beats a little faster and the world spins a little slower as she gazes at the silhouette of a girl on the ledge.
“You’re just in time for the sunset.” Choerry spreads her arms, pulling Olivia into an embrace.
“Wouldn’t dare miss it,” Olivia mumbles into Choerry’s hair. “I have a story for you.”
Choerry pulls back. Her eyes light up, her irises a warm brown speckled with orange from the horizon. Olivia’s pulse skips at the gentle tug of Choerry’s hands on her waist, urging her to continue. Olivia never brings stories home.
Home.
It’s awkward at first, but Choerry gasps and laughs in all the right places until a blanket of stars paints the sky. A gust of wind raises goosebumps on Choerry’s skin. But the tale has only begun, so she curls into Olivia’s side. She asks a billion more questions about the ocean and cannonballs and monkeys and coconut juice.
As Choerry marvels over the strange silver bullet, Olivia can’t help but stare. She thinks if she was a Pirate, her purpose would be a person.
Snores drift out of Hyunjin’s cracked window. A person and a half, Olivia amends begrudgingly.
A/N: For anyone who cares, here’s my list of Loona’s classes, jobs, and weapons. Most are past their 3rd job advancement which is level 60-100. Everything’s flashier beyond level 60.
[Format] Member: Class = job level, Job Title (specialty if any). Weapon = type, name. Additional equipment if any.
- Heejin: Magician = 3rd job, Mage (fire/poison). Weapon = wand.
- Hyunjin: Thief = 3rd job, Chief Bandit. Weapon = dagger, Dragon’s Tail.
- Haseul: Magician = 3rd job, Mage (ice/lightning). Weapon = wand.
- Yeojin: Magician = 2nd job, Wizard (ice/lightning). Weapon = wand.
- Vivi: Magician = 3rd job, Priest (holy magic). Weapon = staff.
- Kim Lip: Warrior = 3rd job, White Knight. Weapon = one-handed sword, Red Katana. Gold Ancient Shield.
- Jinsoul: Bowman = 3rd job, Ranger. Weapon = bow, Marine Arund.
- Choerry: Thief = 3rd job, Hermit. Weapon = claw, Black Scarab. Tobi stars.
- Yves: Pirate = 3rd job, Outlaw. Weapon = gun, Peacemaker. Mighty Bullets.
- Chuu: Pirate = 3rd job, Marauder. Weapon = knuckles, Steel Renault.
- Gowon: Pirate (Special Explorer Cannoneer) = 3rd job, Cannon Trooper. Weapon = hand cannon, Infernalizer. Propeller-capped monkey sidekick named Jungeun.
- Olivia Hye: Thief = 3rd job, Hermit. Weapon = claw, Crimson Maple Soulchaser. Ilbi stars.
Hyunjin worked overtime to get good gear for Triplet Line. But you didn’t hear it from me.
I obviously did not pay much attention to Frog Third's weapons. They can use any eligible wand or staff. Between four Magicians, I only had enough patience to differentiate Vivi using a staff. Sounds very… priestly. Technically Kim Lip is in the same boat, but there’s only one of her and I would never choose blunt weapons over swords. Everyone else is restricted to one type of weapon.
Funny how yyxy’s part turned out longer than the other two combined. I struggled the most writing Olivia’s story.
Part 1 title from "The Fighter" by Gym Class Heroes.
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