Chapter 14

Patches was a notorious rogue (though others would call him a bandit). Perhaps not as infamous as he would have liked, but still, many in the Lands Between had heard of him.

Failure, fool, laughing stock, disgrace of all the Tarnished...

The humor of the Lands Between inhabitants was, for obvious reasons, dubious at best. While Patches did occasionally cause trouble, if he crossed paths with someone strong enough—like a random wandering Tarnished—his name alone often got him off the hook. Of course, sometimes this was accompanied by pleading. Long, drawn-out pleading on his part. Sometimes with kicks, delivered by the Tarnished. Occasionally, they would relieve him of his possessions. There were times he had to beg, then graciously allow himself to be kicked as penance, and then, as a preventative measure, surrender all his stolen loot.

But the important thing was, he stayed alive. What's more, he'd gained enough of a reputation to form an entire gang! A gang of dimwitted undead—May the Greater Will and Queen Marika remember them all fondly— but who cared?

Patches, ever magnanimous, was happy to welcome anyone into his gang, as long as they were willing to haul his stolen goods for him! In return, he would teach them his... well, his craft, of course.

The fact that the undead soldiers lacked even a shred of intelligence mattered little to the infamous rogue. Everyone has their flaws.

Caves made for decent temporary camps, and this time was no exception. Although the region of Liurnia of the Lakes wasn't heavily populated, travelers carrying runes still passed through from time to time. There wasn't much competition—or any, really—so Patches got to claim all the spoils for himself! Well, at least most of the time. Lately, business hadn't been great, so he'd resorted to sending his undead minions out on basic hunting trips. Fortunately, there was plenty of wildlife to keep them busy.

Though times were tough (probably like always, but Patches tried not to dwell on it), the rogue was in high spirits: he'd finally cornered a lone, weak sorcerer who had agreed to his terms. The best part? The sorcerer hadn't even recognized him—Patches the Untethered!

Who could've guessed that a little robbery would attract the attention of such a lunatic?

"Hm?"

The bald rogue turned toward the cave entrance at the sound of clashing swords. First one clang, then another, and another...

He had stationed undead at the entrance to keep watch. While they weren't much use in a real fight against monsters, they could at least warn him of danger—and this time was no exception.

"What's going on now?"

The corpses inside the cave let out incoherent groans. Well, one of them did. The smartest one, probably.

"Exactly!" Patches snapped, leaping to his feet. "What are you standing around for?! Move it! Protect me! If something happens to me, who's going to teach you all my skills? My skills, remember! Move it, move it!"

The undead, one of whom groaned again (perhaps in exhaustion), shuffled toward the entrance, slowly drawing their swords. Meanwhile, Patches, like any true leader, retreated deeper into the cave, hiding behind their rotting backs and observing from a safe distance.

'I should've thought about an escape route,' the unlucky rogue cursed himself silently, realizing his oversight far too late.

But then again, Patches had made so many mistakes in life that he quickly forgot about this one too.

The sounds of fighting didn't last long. Within moments, two men had entered the cave. One glance was all Patches needed to recognize them. More specifically, the sorcerer he'd robbed earlier—and his own stolen armor on the warrior!

"You thieving scoundrel!" Patches screamed internally.

Who even was this guy, and how had he gotten his stuff?!

An image of a grinning merchant flashed in Patches' mind, and everything quickly made sense.

Unfortunately, Patches' internal scream turned out to be not-so-internal, as the strange warrior immediately stared right at him. The rogue realized with a sinking feeling that he'd probably shouted aloud.

"You asked for it!" Patches declared, stepping out of his hiding spot with a massive shield and sword in hand.

The shield, of course, was way too big for him—he could barely drag it—but it offered great protection! And Patches valued his life above all else.

Trailing behind Konstantin, Thops clutched his own shield tightly, expecting a grand battle. He glanced sideways at Konstantin, noticing with confusion that the warrior's attire had been reduced to nothing but a loincloth.

"What?"

This thought seemed to occur simultaneously to both the talentless sorcerer and the hapless rogue. Patches, seeing the nearly naked man charging toward him with a sword, immediately sensed trouble.

"W-wait!" the rogue cried, throwing down his sword and shield and raising his hands. "Wait, please, wait! I surrender! I'm waving the white flag and everything! D-don't come any closer!"

His last words were almost a shriek as the half-naked lunatic approached, sword in hand.

Konstantin, ready to roll into action, paused and stared at Patches.

Seeing the rogue drop to his knees, hands still raised, Konstantin suddenly felt awkward. Somehow, he had drained over half the rogue's health without so much as swinging his sword(1). Even though he hadn't expected much from Patches, this was something else entirely.

Thops blinked as Konstantin's clothes reappeared as if they had never been gone.

'D-did I imagine that?'

The same thought crossed Patches' mind as he glanced at the re-dressed warrior in horror. His gaze briefly flickered to the cave entrance and the corpses of his defeated minions.

Oh well, they'd probably revive later. It's not like they could get any dumber.

As the madman lowered his sword—or rather, as it disappeared entirely—Patches sighed in relief.

"Finally come to your senses? I knew it. You're a reasonable man!"

"I want to kick him," Thops confessed suddenly, gripping his shield tighter.

He was a good person, but even he had limits.

"Everyone does," Konstantin replied flatly. "That's his purpose."

"Hey!" the bald rogue exclaimed indignantly, scrambling to his feet—only to immediately shrink back as the madman turned his gaze on him again. "You're a Tarnished soul like me, yeah? I robbed your friend, sure, but let's just start things over! Let bygones be bygones, right?"

Patches forced the most insincere smile Thops had ever seen, making the sorcerer want to kick him even more. Without delay, the rogue handed back all the runes he had stolen from the astonished sorcerer.

Life was far more valuable!

"Happy now?" Konstantin asked Thops.

"I couldn't have dreamed of this!" the bumbling sorcerer exclaimed. "Thank you, Konstantin!"

He was already ready to praise the Sun!

Konstantin nodded.

"So, I get to live?" Patches asked tentatively.

"For now," Konstantin replied.

Patches immediately straightened up, casually placing a hand on the shoulder of the unflappable Tarnished as if they were old friends. Watching this, Thops covered his eyes, feeling a shame that this idiot had managed to rob him.

Melina, observing the scene from the side, decided to step out of the cave for some fresh air.

She had seen enough for one day.

Patches, ignoring the peculiar tension in the cave, began speaking nonchalantly:

"Words of a true wise man. That's why I like you," Patches said, patting Konstantin on the shoulder. "I'm Patches. Patches the Untethered. A Tarnished like you, but free. You could say I'm a nomad."

Patches chuckled, proud of his self-proclaimed status.

Konstantin glanced at the brigand's hand on his shoulder, contemplating how much HP this "nomad" would lose if he severed it. He had only recently started pondering questions like this.

Sensing something, Patches quickly withdrew his hand.

"Are we leaving?" Thops asked cautiously.

"We're just getting started," Konstantin replied, his tone as calm as ever, though his gaze was fixed on Patches. "You're satisfied, but I'm not."

"But I already gave back the runes!" Patches exclaimed, a sense of foreboding creeping over him. "We're friends now, aren't we?!"

'When?' Thops scratched his bald head, genuinely confused.

"What, you want to take the rest of my junk too?! Take it, I don't ne—"

"No."

The coldness in Konstantin's voice made even Thops shudder. In his early days in this world as a fledgling Tarnished, Konstantin would never have considered it. But this Konstantin was a different man.

Besides, his inner Soulslike player craved vengeance. And simply smashing Patches' face into the ground wouldn't suffice.

An eye for an eye, a kick for a kick.

"You're going to help me," Konstantin declared slowly, as though stepping over his own pride.

'This isn't a summon. This isn't a summon. This isn't a summon…' he repeated to himself internally.

He knew it wouldn't make things easier, but just saying something so casual…

…it made the hardcore gamer inside him scream.

"Help?" Patches repeated, flashing a wide grin. "Of course, buddy! I've always known I could count on you! What do you need?"

"We're hunting a dragon," Konstantin replied flatly. "Smarag, the Glintstone Dragon."

Thops nearly dropped his shield, sweat dripping from his shaved head. Patches, if he weren't bald already, would've gone gray.

"A d-dragon hunt?"

The two bald men exchanged horrified glances before turning to face the madman.

Konstantin turned his head toward Thops, who had taken a step back.

"You're coming too, Thops."

Taking a breath of fresh air outside the cave, Melina basked in the misty sunlight, reflecting on her purpose. Her musings were interrupted when she noticed her chosen Tarnished emerge from the cave, carrying the unconscious body of Patches over his shoulder. Behind him, a visibly sweaty Thops followed, clutching his shield.

Melina watched the odd group walk away.

'What just happened in there?' she wondered.

Soon enough, she would find out.

'No, I need to stop this. This has to stop! I've dreamed of being an honest merchant for so long. The time has come! Damn it, the time has come!'

Patches often returned to this thought. Every time he escaped a scrape relatively unscathed (or painfully but alive), he swore to change his ways—only to inevitably go back to his old tricks.

But this time felt different. Damn it, he had never been in a mess like this! That lunatic!

Patches glanced at the sweating sorcerer gripping his shield. Surely, by now, Thops had deeply regretted complaining about him to that madman.

'Serves him right for dragging me into this' Patches thought, swallowing hard as he looked down. The lunatic had forced them to climb a cliff overlooking a dragon. The cliff wasn't particularly tall, and a fall wouldn't be too long, especially for a Tarnished whose body could withstand more than a regular human's. But there was a tiny, minuscule problem…

Falling meant landing on the dragon! A giant lizard the size of the cliff itself, covered in glinting stones and scales impervious to ordinary arrows or swords!

"Magic… it won't work on him…" Thops muttered fearfully, clutching his shield as if it could protect him from the dragon.

Patches cursed under his breath.

Exactly! This was a Glintstone Dragon, for the love of the Greater Will and Queen Marika! Of course, it would resist magic!

"Hey, Konstantin—or whatever your name is, my dear friend," Patches began, his grin becoming more forced by the second. "M-maybe we could just wait for him to go hunting, then find the… uh… junk you need…"

The unlucky rogue and the even unluckier Tarnished fell silent, meeting the cold, abyssal stare of the hapless sorcerer.

"Call the Academy's Glintstone Key 'junk' one more time, and I'll turn you into a puppet. Got it, bandit?"

The once amiable sorcerer had transformed so drastically that poor Patches could only groan inwardly. He'd heard about how deranged the mages from that cursed Academy were, but he'd foolishly assumed that this random, unfortunate mage—the first person he'd successfully robbed in ages—might be normal.

He was surrounded by lunatics! Sometimes, Patches felt like the most sane person in the Lands Between…

Konstantin, who had been silently studying the dragon, gave a stern nod.

"He will go hunting, yes."

Patches let out a sigh of relief, but it didn't last long.

"For you. Consider it penance for all you've done to countless Soulslike players."

Konstantin paused, realizing his words didn't make much sense.

"Oh, and for all the people you've robbed here."

Kick!

Before Patches could fully process what was happening, he let out a scream as he plummeted from the cliff—directly onto the dragon!

Smarag, the Glintstone Dragon, couldn't help but awaken to the deafening sound of a human scream—nor could he ignore the sight of a figure landing squarely on his head. The intruder, who somehow managed to roll into a proper landing mid-air (after all, he was a Tarnished warrior once guided by Grace, for what that was worth), clung tightly to his horns.

Patches' gaze locked with the dragon's newly opened eyes.

"Great Will preserve me…"

The dragon let out a thunderous roar, his wings slicing through the air as energy swirled in a glimmering vortex around him. He opened his enormous maw, releasing a torrent of flame that would have incinerated any lesser being. Yet, the bald bandit, now spewing curses at everything in the Lands Between (except himself, naturally), remained miraculously unscathed.

Watching from the relative safety of the sidelines, Thops, the sorcerer, had the distinct feeling that if this idiot somehow survived, he'd never return to his bandit ways.

The bald mage shifted his gaze to Konstantin, who had already descended from the cliff with the ease of someone who feared nothing—not even a raging dragon. Ignoring the beast's roars, Konstantin began rummaging among the rocks at the base of the cliff.

'Could there really be an Academy Glintstone Key here?' Thops gripped his shield tightly.

Soon, his suspicions were confirmed. Among the decayed remains of long-dead adventurers, the Tarnished warrior unearthed a shimmering magical key, holding it aloft for Thops to see. The sorcerer's heart skipped a beat.

"It was here… all this time!"

How had the Tarnished even known about it?

Thops exhaled, overwhelmed by relief.

"At least someone will be able to enter the Academy… I'm so glad…"

For a brief moment, he forgot about the gigantic dragon thrashing about, trying to dislodge the tenacious Patches from its head. The bald bandit, fully aware his life depended on it, vowed to hold on until the bitter end.

Konstantin pocketed the key, turning his attention back to his new target: the dragon.

It didn't take long for Thops to understand why the lunatic had brought him along. It wasn't to boast about his discovery. Oh no.

It was to show him—clearly and painfully—the path of the true gamer.

The sharp whistle that summoned Torrent cut through the chaos, drawing the dragon's ire. Distracted from the nuisance on his horns, Smarag locked eyes with the figure now charging toward him on the spectral steed.

Foolish mortal.

Smarag let loose an earth-shaking roar, unleashing a flood of flames from his maw. There was no escaping it. Torrent had drawn too close; the fiery wave was all-encompassing.

Melina, watching from the sidelines, came dangerously close to intervening. Yet something stopped her—a sense of faith, perhaps, or trust in Torrent and his master.

Her faith was not misplaced.

At the last possible moment, the Tarnished leaped from Torrent's back. The spectral steed dissipated into shimmering particles, returning to the whistle. What came next defied reason.

A dodge roll.

For a fleeting instant, silence reigned. Thops stared, wide-eyed, at the unscathed lunatic who had just rolled through dragon fire as if it were the most natural thing in the world. And Thops wasn't the only one left baffled.

"A roll… through fire?" Melina's accursed eye flickered open for a split second before she hastily shut it. "Th-that's… impossible! Isn't it?"

The Glintstone Dragon, too, seemed momentarily stunned, its enormous head tilting in bewilderment at the unharmed Tarnished. Konstantin, ever calm, glanced down at his singed clothes, patting out the smoldering fabric with a few casual slaps.

"Just leveled up enough for proper invincibility frames," he remarked nonchalantly, meeting the dragon's gaze. "Interesting mechanic. Only fully unlocked after grinding for hours. Shame the clothing messed with my perfect timing." (2)

He said this with a faint hint of annoyance, as if blaming someone for forcing him to wear too much armor lately.

Memilna pressed her lips together.

Konstantin's scorched clothes vanished, replaced by nothing but a loincloth. Now, free of encumbrance, he could truly perform his masterful rolls.

Patches, still clinging to the dragon's horns, felt a sudden and inexplicable kinship with the poor beast as he leaned down and whispered urgently.

"Run, my friend! Fly away, or crawl, I don't care! Just leave! This lunatic isn't joking!!!"

Unfortunately, the dragon didn't listen. Smarag roared louder, his pride as the mighty Glintstone Dragon of the Lands Between prevented him from retreating, even when faced with a half-naked madman who could roll through flames.

And that was his greatest mistake.

What happened next would become legend, etched into the memories of those unfortunate enough to witness it. The dragon fell to the Tarnished's blade.

And the Tarnished, victorious, raised his hands to the sky, saluting the sun as he immortalized this sca…— great moment in the annals of the Lands Between.

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(1) Patches surrenders after losing half HP

(2) iFrames baby! For those uninitiated it means, invincibility frames. In Soulslike games, rolls have a few short frames during the animation that make you completely invincible. The timing and the number of frames depends on your equipment. Meaning, less clothes—more frames. Get nakid boys, time to roll.