Let’s Not [Obliterate]

Chapter 12: Flower Language



It took another two hours until the System finally reinstated itself. Dema and Theora were still in the Tavern, although Dema had lost interest in talking to people and was now loudly yawning every ten seconds.

“Why, it’s back,” she said the moment it happened. “There we go, I can [Appraise] again. Been trying to do it the entire time.” She turned her gaze to Theora. “Yep, yours is still nonsense. No clue how you do that.”

“It’s because the stat integers overflow, making the UI glitch out,” Theora murmured. “At least, it used to be that. By now, maybe the encoding is just broken.”

“The hell does that mean?”

“I only vaguely understand myself,” she replied. “It’s what I pieced together from some error logs I sifted through a long time ago.”

‘Some’ being several thousand lines of code that had been regurgitated by the System once after some outer shell had broken. Or, to be more precise, after Theora had broken that outer shell.

“Damn.” Dema stared at her companion for a while longer, presumably studying the glitched-out [Appraisal] pop-up. “Am starting to think you ain’t bluffing,” she grinned.

Theora gave a tired hum that didn’t really mean anything.

“You gotta sleep,” Dema said. “And I’m spent too. Let’s go to our room?”

Theora did want to sleep, but she did not want to move. Instead, she just kept lying on the table.

“Want me to carry you up?” Dema asked cheekily.

“I do not,” Theora replied.

“I think you do!”

Somehow, Theora never got tired of arguing with Dema. With a sudden jerk, she pushed herself up, mustering all energy to rise to her feet, only to defy her. Dema let out a disappointed “Aww!” while giggling, and then got up as well. 

“Ah, Dema, I have something for you. Upstairs.”

The Ancient Evil looked at Theora, as a dark flicker of emotion wandered over her face, betraying her first thought at what that ‘something’ could be. It was clear that for the briefest moment, what Dema expected would await her upstairs was her death. However, she quickly caught herself, and kept smiling. 

Theora’s heart sank. Of course, it wasn’t actually possible to be on good terms with someone one was planning to kill. Again, she had managed to delude herself. With heavy steps, she followed Dema to their room. Closing the wooden door behind her, Theora took a careful glance at the little demon, who was sitting on her bed and eyeing her with a curious gaze.

Opening the cupboard in the room, Theora pulled out her white bouquet. She slowly traipsed over to Dema, and held it out to her.

Dema just stared, surprised, with an I-can’t-believe-this-is-happening expression plastered all across her face.

“It’s for you,” Theora said. She felt awkward. Anxious. Terrible. This was an impossible situation, and the truth was, there was really nothing she could do to make anything about this any better, and giving out a bouquet was probably one of the worst things imaginable to attempt. But she had already gotten it, and didn’t want it to go to waste, so she might as well.

Almost to Theora’s surprise, Dema actually accepted the flowers, and took a deep breath to take in their scent.

“Love tulips,” she said. “Haven’t gotten to smell any in… forever.” A smile came over her. One that actually seemed genuine. With the bouquet in front of her chest, looking up from her bed, she was so irresistibly pretty.

Theora almost blushed, and took two steps back in her surprise.

“Why do I have the feeling this won’t be the last time you give me flowers?” Dema teased.

“I’m pretty sure it will be,” Theora said, gulping.

“Nah, I don’t think that’s true!” 

“Do you— you understand what I’m trying to tell you with this?”

Dema looked at the flowers, intently, then back at Theora. “Not gonna lie, no clue. But, when I look at them, at least I can tell I feel kinda warm.”

Theora broke eye-contact, staring down at the wooden planks of the room.

It was at that very moment. For the first time in so long, something happened that truly and utterly came to Theora’s surprise — an event so shocking to her that her stomach dropped out.

The only Skill she had was [Obliterate], an amalgamation, a mush of all her old abilities. A chimaera capable of destroying virtually anything. Theora didn’t even remember the last time she had received a new Skill, and had no clue which one that could have been. She was very sure she had never even read it, because at that point, she’d been so strong that a measly additional ability had not made any difference at all.

And now, she was looking at a System message that made her nostalgic for a time she didn’t want to remember. The first time she’d ever received a Skill, as a child, pumped full of emotion, stock full of embarrassment, just having made a fool of herself by accidentally punching a wall.

It was quite similar now. She’d made a fool of herself, but in some way, it had changed her.

 

You have learned the Skill [Flower Language].

[Flower Language] advanced to Level 2!


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