The air inside The Claw was thick with the scent of expensive musk.
Madam Silk sat opposite me, her legs crossed in a way that made the red silk of her own dress hiss. She leaned forward, the glowing tip of her cigarette casting a tiny, orange light onto her sharp features. Her violet eyes scanned me with a precision that felt almost like a physical touch, moving from my platinum hair down to the boots.
"So," she said, her voice dropping into a deep, smoky rasp that carried a heavy Eastern European lilt. "What color should it be, darling? An expert like myself already has ideas, but the canvas must always speak first."
I opened my mouth to say, “I don’t really know,” but the words felt clumsy.
Madam Silk didn't wait for me to struggle. She exhaled a long, thin cloud of smoke that drifted toward the ceiling. "Your hair... it is platinum, like moonlight on winter ice. Very striking. And this obsidian outfit you wear... it is iconic. You have already built a brand today, Champion. And then, there is the matter of the Church."
She gave me a knowing, almost feline look. "The rumors fly fast in Oros. They say a Daughter of the Sanctuary has come to take the gold. I do not know if you are truly a woman of the cloth, but in this city, perception is the only truth that matters. So, let us build on that PoP, that point of presence."
She stood up, her movements fluid and rhythmic, like a predator in a ballgown. She began to circle me, her hands moving through the air as if she were already draping fabric over my statuesque frame.
"We stay with the black," she decided, her accent popping with every sharp consonant. "But we do not do the dull black of the road. We go for a backless gown. I want to emphasize the shine, yes? We use obsidian sequins that catch the amber light of the Spire and turn it into something dangerous. A choker neck in the front, very modest, very 'nun', but it will help to emphasize the weight and the curve of your bosoms. We will do an extreme cinched waist to show off the power in your back and the line of your hips. And then... the slits. We need slits that go nearly to the waist to give those long, powerful legs of yours room to move."
A long elaborate ramble of words
She stopped in front of me and reached into a polished glass display case. She pulled out a pair of shoes that looked more like weapons than footwear. They were pitch-black, but the heels were made of long, gleaming chrome daggers that formed a T-cross at the base.
"Take these, I found these in my travels" she said, tossing them toward me. "I was told its leather smiths name was Cesare Paciotti. This dagger theme fits a girl who whispers to monsters before she breaks them."
I caught them out of the air, the cold metal of the dagger-heels stinging my palm. Cesare Paciotti? That was a brand from Earth. A high-end luxury designer from a world of skyscrapers and paved streets. My heart gave a single offset beat. I looked at the shoes, the long, chromed daggers catching the neon-pink light of the R18 section, and quickly pushed the thought away. I couldn't afford a crisis of reality right now.
"Give me five minutes," Madam Silk said, her voice full of a sudden, sharp authority. "I will find that exact dress for you. It is tucked away in the vault, waiting for a woman with the height to carry it."
She strutted to the back of the shop, her red dress swaying rhythmically. Mina gave me a quick, hyper-active wink and scurried after her, her tail lashing with excitement.
The shop went quiet, save for the low, magical hum of the lanterns. I sat there in the velvet chair, the dagger-heels heavy in my lap. I looked over at the group.
Alan had reached his limit with the stillness. I watched him place his leather-bound notebook down on the side table, right beside Joshua's discarded newspaper. He stood up, his movements jerky and restless. He walked one slow circle around the shop, his eyes scanning the adult toys behind the curtain with a clinical, detached curiosity, before he turned and walked out the front door. He didn't say where he was going.
Out of curiosity, I decided to take a look at Alan's little notebook.
The handwriting was precise and clinical, the personality in the writing cold, yet written like a baby.
I am now in a fantasy world.
To Do :
Develop points of actions.
Develop a knowledge base.
Everyone has the same character except Taylor.
Taylor is now a strange latex suited female.
Killed goblins
Location : Village of Oakhaven. Blacksmith, Herb Shop, The Boars rest Inn
World amenities work well
Barnaby mentions he is a merchant. Looks suspicious
Our goal remains the same, get good.
I skipped a couple of random Jargon and points found, flipping quickly through the notebook as I glanced behind me to check if Alan would come back
Got the adventurer tag, got the adventure.
Group in good spirits.
Skip skip skip as I flip through pages faster
The slave rune box that held Taylor has so much dead wheat in it, how does this mechanism work. I can't let Taylor be captured again.
We just massacred a 100 people, humans.
We just killed an entire noble family.
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I hate crowds
… I flip faster
I am hurt. The pain is real. Not ideal.
…flip flip flip
…
A couple of blank pages. Then it gets to the point after the war between Vance and Thorne.
I have just killed 1000s of people, I should not have given my war recommendations to Thorne.
Regret.
Joshua has developed PTSD. I don’t blame him for not shielding me.
Administered freeze to amygdala
Note to self : Never do that again, I nearly killed Joshua if the freeze was more.
Taylor is not ok.
Eren is tired
I am unable to do Cryo-kinetic Pulse, an ability that requires spreading blood, unlike the game. It hurts. Many of my blood based abilities are now locked.
It is clear that our group is not improving. After seeing the S class and those strong enough to radiate dangerous energy. I worry we might not make it to the next fight.
I need new skills that dont kill me, Joshua needs to learn to attack, eren needs a lethal skill.
Taylor needs a new gun. The 50 is a sniper rifle and the 9mm is too small.
Possible to develop a full auto rifle with the materials here?
Probably not...
… flip flip flip
…
I need to find something to help this pain.
It is getting worse
…flip flip flip
…
We have just created many orphans throughout the journey.
Taylor is devastated
Joshua is empty
Eren is tired
…flip flip flip
Found a drug based cure to the pain.
Church looks like their hiding things under the warehouse. Huge purple runes that look like slave runes.
Needs investigation
Seems to be a spread of a monster disease. Identified red eyes and saliva
…flip flip flip
A whole bunch of drug induced nonsense…
Waaahh the sky is so blue
I need this herb
This herb is wonderful awwwweeesooommeeee
…flip flip flip
I am going crazy. Solution: find more herbs.
…flip flip flip the latest entries
SAINT AUGUSTINE
SAINT AUGUSTINE
SAINT AUGUSTINE
NICE.Taylor won and got 1000 gold
SAINT AUGUSTINE
SAINT AUGUSTINE
SAINT AUGUSTINE
I closed the notebook. A large sigh.
I’m sure he’s been through a lot.
As I leaned back, the silk of the chair feeling cold against the back of my suit. I wondered what was taking Madam Silk and Mina so long. The silence of the shop felt heavy, filled with the ghosts of the things we’ve been through and the weight of the gold we’d won. Outside, Oros was celebrating.
Barnaby flips through the newspaper. The front page was obviously my headline but he highlighted some interesting information as I listened to him talk about the news.
"Listen to this, Taylor," he said, his voice dropping into a low, grumbling tone. "The world is burning, but the printers in Oros sure know how to make it sound like a picnic."
He adjusted his spectacles, his squinting eyes scanning the moving ink on the page. I watched the way his thumb, calloused and stained with tobacco, traced the headlines.
"First bit of news," Barnaby read, his brow furrowing. "The Empire of Aethel officially declares the Sentinel System a 'triumph of civilization.' Minister Mallory says the city has never been safer. They’re bragging about how the intent-screening has stopped 'thousands of hostile variables' at the Titan’s Arch. That’s a fancy word for people, Taylor. Just people who are scared and looking for a door that isn't locked."
He let out a short, bitter puff of air, his mustache twitching. "They call it 'absolute security,' but I call it a cage with pretty lights. Joshua, you hear that? They think those glass orbs are the new gods."
Joshua didn't answer. I could see the back of his neck, which was still a bright, embarrassed red. He was busy staring at a display of lace gloves, his hand rubbing the back of his neck in a rhythmic circle.
Barnaby flipped the page, the parchment crackling loudly. "And here we go. The Church of the Silo has a statement. They say the spread of the 'Monster Virus' , is 'of no concern.' They claim their holy researchers are 'moments away' from a permanent solution. They’re telling everyone to stay calm.
"They're not just lying, though," Barnaby continued, his voice getting a bit sharper. "They've put out ads. They aren't asking for gold anymore. The Church is asking for 'donations of life-essence' in the form of food. Grain, meat, anything. They say it’s for the poor, but we know better. They're trying to fill the holes we left in their pantry."
He looked at me over the top of the paper, his gaze heavy and unblinking. I looked away, my fingers tracing the sharp edge of the chrome dagger on my shoe. We were the reason the Church was desperate. But I wondered what for…what was the grain used for…
Barnaby’s voice got lower as he turned to the regional reports. "The news from the border is worse. The refugee crisis in the neighboring kingdom of Eldoria has finally spilled over the lip. They say the kingdom is gone. Lord Vance is trying to hold the Mountain Pass, but the paper says he’s 'unable to stop the tide.' The Twin Towns are overflowing. People are dying in the mud because there’s no more room inside the walls."
He tapped the paper with a heavy finger. "They say there are ten thousand people camping right outside our own Titan’s Arch now. The 'Unvetted.' They’re sitting in the dirt, watching the Spire glow, waiting for a miracle that isn't coming. And the Minister? He’s looking at them and seeing 'unclaimed labor.'
I thought about the baby I’d held, the milk-scented little universe that had almost faded in a flowerbed. How many more were out there? How many babies were being "unvetted" right now while I was waiting for a gown?
The sudden contrast felt like a physical weight, a statuesque burden that made the velvet of the chair feel like a trap.
"And then there's the dam," Barnaby muttered, his eyes narrowing as he read a small sidebar. "The Cladis Dam. They’re calling for emergency reconstruction works. They say it’s 'vitally important' to keep the water levels managed so the whole empire doesn't flood. That’s the dam the Paladin built, isn't it? The one that keeps the Breadbasket dry."
Barnaby let out a sudden, unexpected snort of laughter. He flipped back to the front page and pointed to a small, hand-drawn illustration at the bottom corner.
"Well, at least someone is having a good day," he chuckled. "Look at this. Jerome 'Cliff' the Hero Guard saves a cat."
I leaned forward, looking at the crude drawing. It showed a skinny, lanky guard, Jerome, holding a small, fluffy cat while standing on a precarious-looking ledge. According to the report, he had "tactically navigated" a collapsing roof to rescue the animal, which belonged to a high-ranking Duchess.
"The boy is a miracle," Barnaby laughed, shaking his head. "He trips over a rock and wins a gladiator round, then he falls off a roof and becomes the city’s favorite animal rescuer. He’s the only person in this whole city who seems to be failing upward."
As he stopped talking, we continued waiting for the dress.
What new weapon would you bring to this fantasy world? Consider its usability and setting.
