Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The following account has been suspended: DawnMaker496

“Oh for the love of—you've got to be kidding me!”

 Phainon slumped down into his desk chair, utterly defeated. All he wanted to do after a long day of work and running around the holy city doing errands for Aglaea was to sit down, relax and shut off his brain with a group session on Trash King Quest Online. As far as he knew, Mydei, Cipher and Hyacine were already zipping around their little virtual world gathering resources for the journey ahead. 

Phainon, being the gallant Deliverer and designated team leader, was supposed to lead his people into battle every Thursday evening right at the start of the Curtain Fall Hour. But there he was—stranded on his own without his companions. Nevermind the fact that he was the one holding all the maps, or that Mydei always tried to fight enemies that were twenty levels ahead of him, or that Hyacine’s spellcasting was locked at 50% efficiency, or even the fact that Cipher ran away to go treasure hunting all the time.

None of that mattered anymore. Phainon’s account was gone for good and he would have to start over from scratch. Hundreds of hours poured straight down the drain without even a solid explanation for his suspension. Of all things, it was just another instance of “suspicious activity” that would put his whole MMORPG career six feet under.   

Really, this scenario was nothing new or shocking, but it still came as a huge letdown. This had become enough of a common occurrence that Phainon no longer fretted over the specifics of the suspension and immediately sank into an exasperated state of depression.

Perhaps if the situation had been any different he would have put up more of a fight. Maybe he would have panic-spammed the tech support email for answers, or frantically called up his local electronics store for an emergency diagnostics report on his computer. Maybe he would have even started searching for a brand new, completely reliable computer by now—nevermind the fact that he was still drowning in debt from his “impressively prolonged” undergraduate career, as Professor Anaxa would put it. But after reaching his breaking point ages ago, Phainon had nearly been numbed to the pain of loss. Specifically, the loss of nearly every single online gaming account he had created throughout the entire twenty-five year span of his life.

Still—he had worked so hard this time! All those grueling hours spent farming for materials, countless side quests to the highest mountain peaks searching for SSS-Rank weapons, all the bartering he had to do for the rarest armor sets in the game, including the legendary Gilded Worldbearer’s Garb, all gone in an instant…  

If he wasn’t burdening his team with his absence, perhaps he would have shrugged it off. “Well, at least it wasn't my email that got hacked,” was all Phainon said each time before. And then he moved on to the next game, always searching for a new casual thrill to pass his time off. All Phainon could do now was stare up at the cracks in his ceiling and let out a tortured moan like a wraith.

 “Seriously,” he muttered under his breath, willing the damning verdict burned into his monitor to disappear. “They’re never going to let me forget this. I’m officially the world's lousiest TKQ player of all time. I’m so bad at the game, they terminated my account.”

 After another two quints’ worth of grumbling, Phainon finally shut down his computer and threw himself onto his bed (which was probably a mistake, given that it was a tiny single he’d had since childhood and he never bothered to replace the old springs in his mattress). His previously folded socks and linens went tumbling onto the floor in a sad, shapeless lump. When he finally bothered to check his teleslate, there were over twenty new messages awaiting him.

Team K.A.N.Z

TKQ Thursdays! Don’t forget!

 

Mydei: Phainon.

Mydei: You’re late. Again.

 

Hyacine: Oh dear. Maybe he just ran into traffic on the way home!

 

Mydei: This man cannot even drive, Hyacine.

 

Cipher: Ha! Maybe his little tricycle hit a rock and he went tumbling!

Cipher: Poor little Deliverer~

Cipher: ꉂ (•̀⩊•́)ᯞ. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁⋆.˚✮

 

Hyacine: Lord Phainon, if you require medical attention please contact me ASAP!

 

Mydei: How’s he going to read this if he’s dying in the street anyway?

 

Hyacine: Ah.

As expected, his friends were busy taking turns throwing jabs at him for missing their gaming session. Except for Hyacine, who was seemingly more concerned about his ability to ride a bicycle properly. Even Mydei, one of his dearest friends and (un)official partner in life—he was still working on it, alright?—didn’t feel like entertaining him today.

Everyone was focused on returning to their designated schedule, and Phainon was the sole dissenter amidst the choir. He mentally smacked himself for every second he wasted mourning his own misfortune, hastening his reply to not burden his friends.

Team K.A.N.Z

TKQ Thursdays! Don’t forget!

 

Phainon: I'm fine. I didn't forget anything.

Phainon: Thank you for your concern, Hyacine.

Phainon: As for you, Mydei and Miss Cipher...

 

Hyacine: Our Deliverer has returned safely from battle! We're saved!

 

Mydei: So you finally decided to show up.

 

Cipher: What's taking so long? Time is money, boy. And mine is worth millions!

 

Phainon: Apologies everyone. But it looks like I won't be able to join you tonight.

Phainon: Or for the foreseeable future.

 

Mydei: ?

 

Phainon: So, my account may have been suspended for "suspicious activity."

 

Mydei: You're kidding.

 

Hyacine: But why? You were at work all day. Your account should've been inactive.

 

Phainon: I really don't know. But unfortunately, it looks like our time as a team has reached its end.

 

Mydei: Don't be dramatic. Just make another account and get back online.

 

Phainon: Wouldn't that be breaking the rules?

 

Cipher: Only if you get caught!

Cipher: Use a VPN, kid. You'll be back in no time.

 

Phainon: I don't know...

 

Hyacine: It must be very difficult for you.

Hyacine: We spent all that time leveling our characters up and working as a team, just for an unfair suspension to set us back.

Hyacine: I almost want to email the tech support center on your behalf! ٩(๑`^´๑)۶

Despite his friends’ best efforts, Phainon did not feel any better about the situation. He already knew that the chances of getting his account back were slim, and even then it felt like an endlessly futile endeavor. Losing one too many Georios Online accounts in his youth had already broken his spirits. What was even the point anymore? How could he prevent this endless cycle of suspensions from repeating? He was no computer genius. Some days he was lucky to even get his ancient teleslate model working properly.

While Phainon once dreamed of going into game production as a naive child who knew nothing of the industry, he had since grown and wanted nothing to do with that tedious line of work. Any career that demanded extreme crunching, working until the sun rose and set again and subsiding off of cheap noodles was hardly ideal to him.

Nowadays, Phainon was just a humble post-graduate disappointment still struggling to find employment beyond the realms of “Sales Associate” or “Assistant Kitchen Staff.” His current job working at the Okheman branch of Cery’s Salads wasn’t the worst, even if he was technically struggling to get by. At least he was getting some much-needed vegetables in his diet. The daily commute via bicycle also let him bask in the sunlight instead of rotting away in some corporate dungeon.

Money wasn’t everything, after all. Sure, his debts were something like the glint of a sword lingering overhead, but as long as he avoided frivolous spending, he would make it out mostly unscathed. He was usually more concerned about balancing all his daily activities and ensuring that his companions were kept hale and hearty. That had always been his designated role in the community—Phainon would always be the one looking out for his people. So when it came to himself, he was somewhat at a loss for what to do. Perhaps a web search could help? He reasoned that researching the issue was the best preparation for handling it. 

Navigating to his browser, however, Phainon was met with the shame of his latest searches:

> signs you need a new computer

> new computer very cheap

> how to make money off appraisals

> job application template

> how to flirt like a real person

> does he actually like me or am i delusional

> gladiatr

He groaned and instantly closed out of the World Wound Web, chucking his teleslate far out of sight. “What is wrong with me?” He wondered aloud. 

There was really no other way to go about this. He would just have to accept reality, move on from his losses, and pretend that everything was fine. He’d pick up more shifts and start saving up for a nicer, more functional computer someday. After all, strange errors aside, his computer still worked well enough for the time being. With less free time to amuse himself, Phainon wouldn’t even have to worry about the possibility of losing access to his games again. Eventually, the team would forget about his absence and learn how to become heroes all on their own. They didn’t need him anymore, not really. Sometimes…growing apart was the only way people learned to stand on their own two feet.

Things would change, inevitably—but at the very least, he wouldn’t be burdening them with his own troubles any longer. The sentiment briefly set his heart at ease.

Phainon, lulled by the comfort of his pillows and mountain of baby seal and chimera plush toys, fell asleep that night with a solemn sense of determination brewing in the back of his mind. 

In the corner of his room, his abandoned teleslate remained on as unread messages began to rapidly pile up. He had also left the computer monitor on, and it cast a blue haze over the room that rivaled the moonlight. For hours that incriminating verdict remained, surely burning a permanent brand into the screen to always remind Phainon of his misfortune. For much of the night the devices remained on, though his teleslate eventually ran out of battery and it too fell into a deep slumber. 

The computer whirred quietly amidst the background noise of Okhema’s nightlife. Not a single new message appeared to prevent it from entering sleep mode, yet still it remained, the sole living thing amongst those lost in slumber. It was a peaceful, if not slightly unusual, scene. 

But at the third quint of the Curtain-Fall Hour, the fans suddenly accelerated. Phainon remained undisturbed in his bed, but the sound slowly quickly began to resemble a whirling storm more than a desktop appliance. The monitor display flickered briefly, and then, at once, the fans ceased and the screen blinked out. Everything in sight was plunged into a deep trench of darkness and the silence grew nauseatingly thick. After a few moments shrouded in this stifling atmosphere, the power was promptly restored and light once again flooded the room. Yet, something was obviously amiss.

The light emitting from the screen was now a blinding golden hue, like a small sun had been hiding inside the circuit boards all along and only just burst out into the world. Though it flickered and dimmed through the long hours of the night, it remained until the dawn broke over the horizon. And then, in a single heartbeat, it faded back into an empty black void.

When Phainon awoke the next morning, neither his phone nor his computer would turn on. Wiping the remnants of sleep from his eyes, he could only sigh over his mediocre breakfast and go about his day as if nothing had happened at all. Though cursed he may be, the constraints of employment were far more demanding. He didn’t have the time to wallow over his own self-inflicted wounds anymore.

“Today will be better. And if not today—tomorrow.”

Just as before, once Phainon turned his back, the computer powered back up and bright flickers of light filled the bedroom. This time, however, a small, invisible figure appeared, outlined only by the golden rays. 

It was almost as if something was alive inside there. 

Chapter Text

The previous night, as the third quint of the Curtain Fall Hour settled in with the silver moon above, Phainon had fallen fast asleep in his own thorny cradle of repentance. Though his teleslate flashed for hours with new message alerts and his computer monitor suddenly underwent some extreme new developments, he was left to dream in peace for the time being. The situation on the other side of the screen, however, was quite the different story.

To say Mydei was frustrated would be an understatement. He was normally able to restrain his emotions and control unnecessary outbursts, but everything bled into an unfamiliar grey area when it came to Phainon. In this case, the man’s seeming inability—unwillingness, more likely—to communicate was driving him up the wall. Who just leaves a concerning message like that and then flees the moment someone offers their unconditional support? His avoidant tendencies were nothing new, but at this moment Mydei could only vent his anger in short message fragments.

Team K.A.N.Z

TKQ Thursdays! Don’t forget!

 

Mydei: Phainon

Mydei: Don’t you dare just run like that

Mydei: Since when were you this cowardly?

Perhaps it wasn’t cowardice at all, but Mydei was quickly losing his patience. Usually this type of bait hooked him in right away. He must be ignoring them.

Mydei: PHAINON.

 

Hyacine: I don’t think this is helping

Hyacine: We shouldn’t bother him if he’s feeling uncomfortable

Hyacine: Let’s just be patient and continue on as normal

 

Cipher: I’m tired of waiting around

Cipher: No more AFK! ᐠ •`ᴖ´•マ Ⳋ

Groaning, Mydei set his teleslate down and returned his attention to the computer. He knew Hyacine was being rational and that his emotions were getting the better of him. But it was just infuriating to not be able to address the glaring issue in front of their faces. What good was turning a blind eye to their teammate’s problems in the long run? Their issues would only begin to stack up until they were entirely insurmountable. Mydei absolutely abhorred indecision and any frailty in one’s will. There was nothing worse than being pushed back into a corner. The only release offered at that point would naturally be at another’s hands, a fate not dictated by himself but by a senseless animal who made decisions based on instinct or tradition. Phainon was never the type to relent to an unjust fate. So why now? What had changed in the few hours since they had last messaged one another?

Mydei tapped away on the screen with his mouse idly. His character, the mighty warlord Nikador who had bathed in the golden blood of ten thousand foes, was resting soundly on a patch of grass with a baby chimera held tight to his chest. The most ironic part was the fact that it wasn’t even his own pet but Phainon’s, the little hero Beagle Coconut who never strayed from his owner. Unlike most pets which were tasked with material collection, Beagle Coconut had yet to contribute anything to the team. He was always too busy trailing behind Phainon’s character Kephale, shadowing the hero of legend without ever lifting a squishy little paw. But now that said owner was permanently unavailable, the chimera had no choice but to cling to the next best thing.

“If only people were that easy,” Mydei mused. Beagle Coconut stretched his pixelated paws up to Nikador’s face and purred happily at all the attention he was getting. So spoiled, just like his owner.

In the background he spotted Hyacine and Cipher’s characters running around with little multicolored bottles and bags of coins overflowing in their little arms. At least they were still energetic. Mydei already felt as if he had been drained of all life tonight and was ready to start without preparing in advance. It wasn’t as if their expedition would be complete without their leader anyway.

The angelic healer of light Aquila spread her wings and began to cast incantations over the skies, creating the few low-resistance damage buffs she had mastered for the whole team. Her skills were still unpredictable given her limited training period, but she was as much an indispensable team member as anyone. She flew back to greet Nikador and picked up her own pet Little Ica while she waited for the final person to join.

After a moderate amount of time doing who knows what, the lightning-fast cat Zagreus popped up from behind a bush in a shower of silver coins. She had actually bothered to equip high-rarity armor this time, though the origin was likely dubious at best, and she even wielded a tiny sword in her hand.

Party Log

Team K.A.N.Z

 

@KittyPhantom945: I’m the great Deliverer of Dolos! Bow down to your new overlord!

 

@Twilight252: Amazing, Lady Zagreus! You look ready for battle!

 

@LordMydei600: Put that butter knife down and go get us some materials

 

@KittyPhantom945: Butter knife? No shot!

@KittyPhantom945: This is the greatsword NightBreaker

@KittyPhantom945: I am the thief star destined to shine!!! (^_<)〜✩‧₊˚

 

@Twilight252: Hehe that’s our hero! (☆◕∀◕)

 

@LordMydei600: Do you want to do the quest or not?

 

@KittyPhantom945: Looks like someone’s in a bad mood

@KittyPhantom945: I get your little boyfriend’s a mess but

@KittyPhantom945: That’s his problem, not ours!

 

@Twilight252: …(•ᴗ•,, )

@Twilight252: What she means to say is that

@Twilight252: Lord Phainon wouldn’t want to see us moping around!

 

@LordMydei600: She didn’t say that at all.

Once Cipher was done messing around with her reenactment of the Deliverer’s decisive battle against the Mad King, Mydei elected himself as temporary team leader and ushered everyone out away from the city marketplace into the wilderness. While Nikador may have donned the toughest armor in the game alongside a fearsome lance, little Beagle Coconut remained latched onto his shoulder and refused to get off. Naturally, Zagreus spammed the laughing emote a hundred times as he attempted to pry the chimera off, while Aquila hovered beside them, emitting hearts from her eyes. After a fruitless struggle against the pixelated pet, he decided to just give up and pretend Beagle Coconut was a part of his warrior getup all along. The team was missing a core member, after all, so it was only right that he acquired a co-leader. Not that the chimera would be of any use, save for emotional support purposes.

Through the windy wheat fields and winding groves they traveled, exclusively facing low-level enemies they could dispatch without much effort. Working as a trio was somewhat uncomfortable, mostly due to the fact that their coordination was off-balance without their main offensive unit. The usual battlefield dance went as such: Kephale took the lead in offense, Nikador played defense, Aquila worked on casting spells from above and Zagreus did more off-field damage. Now, though, the state of affairs had shifted considerably.

Zagreus could run circles around a dozen enemies without issue, but she was lacking when it came to swordplay. Nikador could easily double as both an offensive and defensive unit, but attempting to shield both Zagreus and Aquila at the same time he lunged at an enemy was a taxing ordeal. Aquila was also having her fair share of troubles now that she had to balance between restorative spellcasting, combat boosts and offensive maneuvers of her own. Overall, they were barely functional at best. Targeting weak enemies was only a temporary strategy that would never work out in the long-term. Either they had to reconfigure their battle strategies, or they would need to restore everything to its proper working order.

@LordMydei600: This isn’t working

 

@Twilight252: I was afraid you’d say that

@Twilight252: My spells just aren’t powerful enough yet

@Twilight252: If I had more time, then maybe…

 

@KittyPhantom945: No point beating yourself up over that

@KittyPhantom945: None of us are working right like this

 

@LordMydei600: We’ll have to reassign our positions

@LordMydei600: Aquila, go scout above

@LordMydei600: Zagreus, replenish SP

@LordMydei600: I will start cooking

 

@Twilight252: Yes, Lord Nikador! 

 

@KittyPhantom945: Boring. But I’ll do it anyway.

Mydei promptly got to work cooking an array of restorative dishes for the team. He scraped together the remainder of their rations and carefully lit the fire underneath the pot before tossing in an armful of salted dromas steak, scallions and tomatoes. This produced four servings of stew, just enough for the active team members and their currently absent leader. Another armful of vegetables and meat, this time for defense-boosting skewers. Mydei went through his standard menu with intense precision, only breaking his concentration once he reached the dessert course. Pomegranate pie was his personal favorite of all the prepared dishes, not just because it suited his own tastes but also for its HP-replenishing capabilities. He set the ingredients to simmer before reaching out to his teammates again. 

@LordMydei600: It’s been more than enough time

@LordMydei600: Where are you two?

 

@KittyPhantom945: Behind you~

Right on cue, Zagreus’ cat ears popped up from a conspicuous hole in the ground. Beagle Coconut was startled from his perch on Nikador’s shoulder and decided to cling to his head instead, obstructing the character sprite’s view of the cooking pot altogether.

Mydei’s eyes widened. “Wait, no. Let go, you little—!”

His sprite promptly burned the food. All those perfectly good, ripe pomegranates, now burned to cinders. What an utter waste.

@LordMydei600: Don’t do that again

 

@KittyPhantom945: Not my fault you're such a scaredy chimera

 

@LordMydei600: You burned the last of our rations

@LordMydei600: We need to go foraging again

 

@KittyPhantom945: Ugh are you kidding me?

@KittyPhantom945: I’d sooner quit the game than do that again!

 

@LordMydei600: You were the one who insisted on playing

 

@KittyPhantom945: But you and pinky still followed along anyway

@KittyPhantom945: Speaking of which

@KittyPhantom945: Pinky? Little angel?

 

@Twilight252: Sorry. I’m here.

@Twilight252: But there’s something you should see

@Twilight252: It’s really strange. I can’t make sense of it.

 

@KittyPhantom945: A new enemy we’re too weak to fight? Pass

 

@Twilight252: No. It doesn’t look like an enemy

@Twilight252: It looks like Kephale

At that, Zagreus and Nikador both took off running towards the faint outline of Aquila’s heavenly figure floating over a tall hill in the distance. The kitty phantom was much faster than the armor-clad warrior and easily left him in the dust, leaving Mydei alone to contemplate just what was happening.

“That’s impossible. There’s no way.”

Turns out there was, in fact, a way. Once Nikador trudged up the hill to join his companions, he too spotted the bizarre scene Aquila had observed. 

The hill overlooked an old mire that was long rumored to be haunted. Legend had it that staying overnight in the sunken Styxian ruins granted players a 50-50 chance to either collect the ultra-rare Netherwing Soul Armor, or to die a horrific death and lose all progress on their current quest progress. The team had discussed it at one point, nearly pulled in by the allure of shiny gauntlets that granted high damage mitigation against tough enemy units. Cipher had been most enthusiastic to try her hand at the gamble, but Phainon’s rationality had kept them on course toward their mission.

So why had his character appeared in that same mire now, right after he had essentially lost all of his quest progress?

He leaned down over the cliff’s edge to get a closer look, Aquila and Zagreus hovering close behind with an unnerved anticipation. There, beneath the shade of a crumbling temple wall, was indeed Kephale—but he no longer emanated that familiar heroic aura that naturally attracted people to bask in his light. His bright form had been twisted completely by the toxic fumes spewing from the ground. He walked aimlessly in place, sometimes merging with the environment before falling to the ground. And then he would stand again, slowly, as if he were little more than a lifeless puppet without bones in his body to keep him intact. There were bright red patches staining him from head to toe, as if he had been hunting for sport and decided to take a bath in the blood of his fallen prey. Even with his face obscured by distance, the unsettling air surrounding him was more than enough to give Mydei pause.

“What am I even looking at right now?”

He noticed Hyacine starting to type something out in the messages tab, but the team was interrupted by a loud squeal ringing out from the chimera still perched atop Nikador’s head. In the blink of an eye, Beagle Coconut had hopped down to the ground and took off in a wild run towards the marshlands, leaving the team behind in a cloud of kicked-up grass. They all blinked at one another with their big, shiny eyes before rushing off again down the hill in pursuit of the fleeing chimera.

Weaving carefully between crumbling columns, the flooded pathways and bones of the deceased, they eventually chanced upon Beagle Coconut, who was now cowering in the remains of an old dolium. Just as Aquila reached for the chimera to share her healing light, a deep shadow was cast over them from behind. And then, the trio finally came face to face with Kephale.

His eyes were reduced to inky black circles, the sort of face worn only by the reanimated corpses stumbling along the Styxian shores. There were similar black and red welts covering his person, an unmistakable mark of Thanatos carved into his skin. Indeed, Kephale looked just like a member of the dead, and perhaps Mydei could have made peace with that assumption under any other circumstances. But the events of the past day were just too bizarre, too outlandish to make sense of. 

For starters, Phainon’s account had been suspended, effectively purging the system of his data. Even if this was only a temporary state until access to the account was reinstated, it did not change the fact that this avatar being here now was impossible. The only way it could appear in such a possessed state was if the account had been recovered, or it had been corrupted somehow.

While Mydei had resolved to investigate the matter from up close, the two girls were quick to flee to higher ground. Without taking the time to finish preparations for the next phase of the journey, neither stood a chance against formidable foes reborn from the river of souls. Choosing to play it safe rather than risking all their progress so far, Aquila and Zagreus disappeared in an instant, leaving Nikador and Kephale to gaze upon one another wordlessly.

Kephale didn’t move much, at least not towards him. He seemed to be imitating the dead on the shores, with slow animations that lacked any spatial awareness. His head would tilt in one direction or another, as if trying to formulate a single thought. Naturally, as a simple character sprite, that was never going to happen. But Mydei still had his reservations about the situation and decided to check in with everyone else just in case.

He picked up his teleslate again and noticed that Hyacine and Cipher had already attempted to establish contact ahead of him. With a newfound sense of urgency, Mydei began typing away at a rapid pace.

Team K.A.N.Z

TKQ Thursdays! Don’t Forget!

 

Hyacine: What’s happening?

Hyacine: His character is here, but…

Hyacine: Why does he look like that?

 

Cipher: This is super freaky, kid

Cipher: You’re not trying to play a prank on us are you?

Cipher: Because I won’t be fooled by something like that!

 

Mydei: Phainon are you online?

Mydei: ???

 

Hyacine: He doesn’t seem to be answering

 

Cipher: Witchcraft! Necromancy!!

Cipher: =͟͟͞͞ =͟͟͞͞ ﾍ( ´_`;)ﾉ

 

Mydei: Something must be wrong

Mydei: I’ll handle this

 

Hyacine: Are you sure, Lord Mydei?

 

Mydei: It’s getting late. You both need to rest.

Mydei: Besides, this fool is my responsibility

 

Hyacine: If you insist. But don’t push yourself for too long. 

Hyacine: I’ll know if you stayed up all night working again!

 

Cipher: Have fun, little lion!

Cipher: (^̶.̶  ⩊ .̶^) Bye~

Mydei returned to observing the twisted character sprite before him. Kephale hardly acknowledged his presence, their only interaction being the overlapping of shadows upon the ground. Still, Nikador stood resolute, unwavering in the face of something that defied all reason. He wouldn’t leave until the truth came out—and Phainon’s account was officially restored for good.

Chapter Text

Mydei had always lived under the assumption that his world would become much quieter without Phainon constantly hovering over his shoulder. That wasn’t to say his presence was overbearing or unwelcome in any way, quite the opposite in fact. The man was headstrong and knew just how to push his buttons, often stirring up these wild impromptu competitions that he could never resist. 

Their latest battle of enduring heatstroke at the sauna was still raging in the back of Mydei’s mind. In that particular escapade they had clashed over dinner plans and decided the only fair and logical way to settle it was through practical means. So, they stripped and piled into the small room clad only in towels in an attempt to endure temperatures that would likely injure a lesser man on the spot. 

It was a fierce competition, neither side relenting until they were physically dragged out of the baths by the ear for “bodily endangerment.” Given that this all occurred at Aglaea’s personal residence, perhaps this outcome should have been expected. She often lamented how her two capable students still indulged in reckless acts as if they had yet to mature. But to Mydei, competitions with Phainon were a secondary form of communication in themself, another way of understanding one another. That’s how it had always been, from the time of their first meeting until now.

It had already been five years since then. Back then, Mydei was just a modest and somewhat reclusive second-year history student at the University of Okhema. He tended to shirk social interactions under the excuse of being entirely devoted to this academic career and kept to himself. He lived alone off-campus, ate alone and sat alone most days of his life. It wasn’t a lifestyle he had long adapted to by any means; on the contrary, there was once a time in Mydei’s life when he was constantly surrounded by loyal friends who treated him as something like a younger brother. He knew what it felt like to laugh and share meals with others, to stay up late gazing at the distant stars and whispering his most childish dreams between the lingering hum of a lyre. He had it all, once. But life went on, and soon enough he had outgrown his naivety. 

For Mydei, moving to Okhema for school wasn’t the beginning of some romantic journey, but neither was it an explicit sentencing to a life of isolation. He wasn’t so pessimistic to assume that change negated his lifelong bonds or made him anything less than a born-and-bred Kremnoan. The feeling of missing something achingly deep inside never faded, but he was nonetheless resolute. Seeking opportunity in foreign lands was simply his chosen path, no matter what contempt he was met with. He had prepared for nearly every scenario imaginable, whether it be all-too-enthusiastic drunkards on the street roping him into some nonsense or hateful individuals cursing his people in the corridors. It’s just, if Mydei was honest, he hadn’t expected the people of Okhema to be so indifferent. 

They were, for the most part, lively in their own way and embraced the Okheman traditions written into legend as if it were second nature. In his first year of enrollment, not once had he ever witnessed transfer students being harassed or excluded on campus when it came to celebrating the Festival of Gold or the annual Citizen’s Debate Assembly. They’d hang laurels around every passerby’s head and throw apples into the streets to spread the blessings of beauty and romance. Those who hailed from Dawncloud were particularly passionate about spreading Kephale’s love to all inhabitants of Amphoreus.

But were it an Aidonian or Kremnoan who laid worship to their own passages in those same legends, humbly calling out to Thanatos and Nikador for eternal protection and glory even in death? Or perhaps one of Dolos’ cat-eared partygoers who gave a toast to the God of Trickery’s unprecedented heroics? Suddenly, the hearty people of Okhema were not so keen to celebrate anymore. They did not often voice their discomfort, perhaps out of fear of retaliation more than anything. But their shifty eyes and grimaces spoke loud enough for them.

Sitting alone in the first row by the lecture hall’s windows, Mydei could just barely make out his fellow students passing whispers over their textbooks. For an early morning Classics course, everyone sure was lively. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that the weather was always perfect in Okhema, casting a mural of golden rays of sunlight over the marble city walls. The citizens were usually in better spirits than the transfers, anyway. Or, perhaps it was a result of the ongoing ruckus on the far side of the hall. Professor Anaxagoras—an inquisitive man of the sciences by nature who had, for some unknown reason, submitted to the call of the humanities instead—was scribbling furiously on the blackboard while a group of students giggled amongst themselves. After a month of enrollment in this course, Mydei was no longer fazed by this all-too-common occurrence. He could only sigh under his breath and try to keep up with the almost nonsensical words pouring out of the professor’s mouth.

“Keep laughing, you three, and see just how favorable your midterm reports turn out.”

An empty threat. The students knew it as well as he did. 

The pink-haired girl, Hyacine, spoke up rather cheerily, “Will you be grading your own teaching assistant just as harshly, Professor Anaxa?” 

“Don’t test me, Hyacinthia. You, Phainon and Castorice are all in the same boat here.” The professor then sent a glare up through the rows of students. “Just as you worthless individuals muttering to yourselves are destined for failure. I should save myself the trouble and just send out your final grade reports now.”

This time a lower, but no less cheerful, voice retorted, “Is that so? Because I’ve seen your grading sheet, and it seems to me like we’re already meeting your standards, prof.”

Said voice belonged to Phainon, golden boy of the literature department who hid a surprisingly sharp tongue behind a blinding grin. The first time Mydei had overheard him arguing with the professor mid-lesson, he was completely floored. Respect was one of the virtues ingrained in him from birth, and to talk back to a superior in education was unheard of. Now he knew better. This particular group of students were clearly the professor’s favorites, and they were merely engaging with him. Mydei scratched out a spelling mistake in his notes and rewrote the offending word. He should have been focusing on his own work instead of others.

Professor Anaxagoras rolled his visible eye. “Those are just preliminary results. Why don’t we go over your midterm assignments now to prepare you for eternal damnation now? I’m sure you spineless fools won’t even dare to present your topics before me.”

A startled hush suddenly washed over the room. Even Phainon looked taken aback, his endlessly blue eyes wide and mouth pinched into a frown. The person behind Mydei hid a cough away into her cardigan, narrowly avoiding the professor’s gaze. No one spoke.

“How predictable. None of you have the courage to face me!” Professor Anaxagoras laughed to himself, still wielding his piece of crumbling chalk more like a weapon than a writing utensil. “Fine then. Disperse and talk amongst yourselves as you please. Try to find a topic that won’t utterly bore me to death while you’re at it, or each and every one of you is going home with a credit deduction.”

The professor promptly slammed his chalk down and walked out of the room, ending his lecture approximately forty minutes early. The stunned silence permeated for a while longer, until the students all seemed to collectively sigh and turn to their neighbors for a proper discussion about their paper topics. Mydei, never one to initiate conversation, sat quietly in his seat as he ran through his own proposal for the hundredth time that day. It wasn’t that he lacked confidence in the viability of his research, but rather he was more concerned about how to articulate his thoughts in a way that would appeal to his classmates’ delicate dispositions.

He ruminated for so long, he hardly noticed when a head of shaggy white hair popped up beside his desk. “Hey! Do you want to join us?”

Of course it was Phainon. Again. He was annoyingly skilled at capturing an entire room’s worth of attention with little to no effort. Like a hapless puppy, he practically wagged his tail in anticipation of Mydei’s response. There was little use in resisting the way those huge eyes seemed to look straight through to his soul.

“Fine.” Mydei collected his materials, trying his best to ignore the blooming smile on Phainon’s face. It came at no surprise that he was even brighter up close.

The remaining students had assembled into a group of six, excluding the TA Hyacine who was busy reviewing lesson plans in Professor Anaxagoras’ absence. Phainon, ever the ringleader, took his seat at the head and offered everyone the option to volunteer as the first presenter. Though it was an open offer, Mydei also felt the man’s eyes digging into his side like a blade, almost as if he was challenging Mydei. 

Challenging a Kremnoan? He thought to himself. Alright, as you wish. 

Mydei stood slowly, towering over his seated classmates, and crossed his arms. “I’ll go first then.”

An all-too knowing smirk broke out on Phainon’s lips. “Very well then. Go ahead…?”

“Mydeimos,” he supplied. “I’ll be conducting research on the ancient history of Kremnos. Specifically, how significant the Kremnoan Detachment was to the survival of both the Kremnoan and Okheman people of the past. There are unsurprisingly few sources on the Detachment’s founding, however—”

“Question.” A female student’s voice interrupted him only twenty seconds into his presentation. Mydei, a bit startled, bit his tongue and looked at the girl expectantly. Though her eyes failed to meet his, her voice never wavered. “What exactly is the, uh, ‘Kremnoan Détaché?’ This wasn’t in our textbooks.”

Always the Okhemans with the flowery words and never the same beauty inside.

Suppressing a sigh, Mydei decided to humor the girl. “The Kremnoan Detachment was a group of exiles who sought glory beyond the walls of Castrum Kremnos during the mad king's reign. This faction, led by the Kremnoan prince, would eventually return to defeat the king with Okhema’s aid.”

“I’ve still never heard of them before. Were they really all that important?”

“The surviving Kremnoans protected the holy city in its end times. Okhema would have met its end far sooner without their assistance.” Speaking their language was oftentimes necessary, though nonetheless irritating.

“Really? I can’t remember any of them being mentioned by name though.” The girl twiddled her pen around as if she were actually thinking inside that head of hers. “The demigods of legend were the ones who saved the holy city from ruin. That’s what the textbooks say. So why insert Kremnos where it doesn’t belong? It’s not like any of that matters anyway.”

It’s not like any of that matters anyway?

Mydei could only hold his fists tight until his knuckles paled, averting his gaze completely from the now wide-eyed group of students before him. According to the way he was raised, though a warrior never shied from a challenge, they must also know when to retreat. This was probably the best opportunity.

He moved to sit back down, only for a slightly taller shadow to block his way.

“Of course it matters!”

Naturally, Phainon had decided enough was enough and stepped in to play savior. He shot the girl a disappointed expression, thoroughly outraged at the scene he had just witnessed. “Just because Okheman textbooks may omit the truth doesn’t mean that it didn’t happen! Don’t let your narrow minded biases affect your performance in school, or you really will end up with a credit detection like Anaxa suggested.”

In the tense aftermath of this confrontation, the girl finally let out a haughty hmph! and stormed out of the lecture hall in a hurry. Phainon, still standing between Mydei as some sort of protective barrier, sheepishly smiled at him. “Sorry about that! Now, where were we?”

Somewhat rattled—both by the hostile interaction and by the man’s complete 180 in attitude—Mydei sped through the remaining minute of his presentation and sat down amidst his other classmates’ stiff claps (and Phainon’s cheer of approval, which he also tried his best to ignore). The rest of the presentations flew by in a blur. Mydei was too shaken to even realize the other students filing out of the room until he was left alone with Phainon’s little group, who gestured to him with reassuring smiles of their own.

“You did well, Mydeimos. I bet Professor Anaxa will give you an excellent mark this time!”

Disliking all the attention on him, Mydei could only keep his eyes trained on his half-legible notes again and wonder just what had gone wrong today. “Thanks.”

Hyacine and Castorice complimented him similarly, both expressing their interest in his unique choice of topic, but Phainon’s searching stare never once left Mydei’s person, even as he began to pack everything away to leave the hall. They walked out shoulder to shoulder, Phainon practically vibrating like some strange, concentrated energy had suddenly welled up within him and was spilling out through every crevice of his body. When the pair finally breached the doors and stepped out into the sunlight, he let out an exaggerated sigh and practically melted into Mydei’s side.

“Say, Mydeimos.” His words were quieter now but still clearly beaming. “How would you feel about coffee?”

They ended up at a cheap café half a block away, Phainon sipping on a Belobogian flat white while Mydei took to his usual order of pomegranate juice instead. Their conversations were somewhat short and rough around the edges, but deep down, Mydei could feel some indescribable emotion piling up higher and higher inside by the moment. Of course, Phainon’s defense that day did little to change the indifferent Okhemans’ perception of foreigners, but Mydei was at least convinced of his character. It was the first time another student had stood up for him, and also the first time anyone on campus had treated him more like a friend than a quiet and aloof classmate in the background. 

As the months went on, they would only grow closer, until Mydei had blended seamlessly into Phainon’s life as if they had never been separate to begin with. He came to see Phainon not just as the chaos to his calm, but just as often, the quiet moment before the dawn that stripped him of all restraint. 

On long nights they’d lay side by side in Phainon’s tiny dorm bed, just barely touching, with only the hum of the air conditioner breaking the silence between them. The hours would pass just like that, not with the usual scent of lust, but comfortable companionship. Even as their relationship grew beyond the comfortable realms of friendship and entered somewhat uncharted and undefined territory, Mydei knew he could always rely on Phainon’s presence in his life.

So, now in the present moment, why was this profound, stagnant silence hanging between them all of a sudden?

That long night of watching Kephale’s sprite stumble around the screen passed quite slowly for Mydei. He didn’t really do anything aside from moving around the ruins in a jerking motion like a corpse and turning into a bizarrely pixelated mess occasionally while the environmental graphics glitched around him. He just circled around Nikador endlessly like a blind wolf trying to hunt for scraps. Mydei almost felt bad for him.

Ultimately, he decided to send the Trash King Quest Online customer support a very clipped email demanding answers before heading off to bed before dawn. Though he rubbed at his eyes in an attempt to stay awake, at least his email was flawlessly composed as always. Despite being a little old-fashioned when it came to technology, Mydei was still far better off than Phainon was. He even kept a virtual desktop assistant around for task completion efficiency. Bubbles the Chimera was both an adorable and useful companion for late night ventures such as these. He ran spellcheck through Mydei’s email before jumping up into the air, hitting the ‘send mail’ button with his tail.

“Thank you, Bubbles. Keep watching that game for me while I rest.”

Being self-employed meant that Mydei’s work hours were extremely flexible. He typically rose in the middle of the morning to get his daily workout in and eat a hearty, balanced breakfast (along with a few stacks of protein-infused honeycakes here and there). Then he would head to the Kremnoan Cultural Center Archives and busy himself with whatever organizational tasks he could find until the Parting Hour’s first quint, which left a decent amount of time after his shift for personal matters.

On most days, that meant running errands or meeting up with his friends for a nice home cooked meal. And most of the time, it would be Phainon who showed up at his door begging for scraps like a spoiled stray. Mydei, already halfway through dicing up tomatoes for two servings of braised cloudsheep stew, ignored his watery eyes and ordered him around the kitchen like a servant instead. After enjoying a meal with a side of chatter, Phainon would naturally settle on some kind of challenge for the night. Aside from falling into bed together like they were still starved, gaming was also an easy pick.

While Mydei may have complained about having “actual adult responsibilities” to partake in, Phainon somehow always managed to goad him into hours-long tournaments in Super Hamsterball Racers: Eternal Land. For all his technological failings, he had gotten quite good at the game after investing a concerning amount of time into studying all the best racers’ techniques online. 

Mydei himself was more interested in the level designs than anything, finding a certain appreciation for the surprisingly accurate depictions of Kremnoan history in Nikador’s Castrum. Phainon’s favorite track—Fairy Park, the eight-lap miniature circuit with twinkly background music and an abundance of critters peeking down from the trees—was a headache in itself, however. Though Mydei never once threw the towel in early, he was definitely lacking in that same enthusiasm Phainon held for a game that consisted of circling around the same track over and over again. 

It had been over a month since Phainon had last challenged him to any races, but he hadn’t realized just how much time had passed until this uneasy moment of silence appeared as a rift between them. Perhaps that should have been the first sign of what trouble was to come. But really—who could have known what inexplicable events were to soon transpire?

When he returned home to his dim and quiet apartment that night, Mydei stood unmoving in his kitchen for a while before fixing himself some leftovers and moving back into his office space. He had left both his computer and TKQ game running all night and day, too invested in this saga of tracking Kephale’s movements to even think of abandoning ship. Unfortunately, the character sprite had all but disappeared. Nikador now sat alone in the Styxian bogwater looking more spirit than hero himself. Taking pity on his character, Mydei steered him back up the hill the group had last congregated on in hopes of catching sight of Kephale once he reappeared.

In the meantime, he thought it best to go through his email in hopes of receiving a response from customer support. Surprisingly, they had actually replied to his earlier inquiries within the same day. Bubbles the Chimera, ever the loyal companion, hopped around in a circle as if he was anticipating the thrill of sending hate mail again. Mydei fed him a virtual treat shaped like a heart before going through the email line by line.

Dear LordMydei600,

In accordance with Trash King Quest Online’s privacy policy, we are currently unable to disclose personal information regarding another player account at this time.

Rest assured, your complaint has been investigated promptly. The team had found that user DawnMaker496 has been suspended for suspicious activity as previously affirmed and the account is no longer accessible. No anomalies have been detected as the user previously claimed. Further information is not able to be disclosed at this time. We request that users send photographic and/or video proof of any alleged incidents.

Have any questions? Send us an email at [email protected]

Thank you,

Trash King Quest Online Customer Support Team

That was it? This was the best customer support could come up with? What a joke!

“Are you seeing this nonsense, Bubbles?” Mydei seethed, already drafting out an even more clipped response to customer support in retaliation. “Have any questions? Of course I have questions! And they didn’t answer a single one!”

The most damning line of all being, of course, “No anomalies have been detected as the user previously claimed.” What in Nikador’s good name were they even thinking, sending such nonsense responses out to their customers like this? Not only that, but they had the gall to demand explicit proof of suspicious activity from him when it was their systems that had reported it in the first place!

Slamming down on his keyboard, Mydei fulfilled Bubbles the Chimera’s wildest dreams by giving customer support their deserved reckoning. “You want proof? I’ll give you proof.” He promptly attached three different screen recordings that showed Kephale’s bizarre behavior before once again hitting ‘send mail’. Bubbles did a flip out of pure joy.

Finally digging into his now cold leftovers, Mydei could only feel frustrated at himself for his own inefficiency. All this time, and I still can’t perform at my best for your sake. It was a thought born not of self-loathing, but the stark silence slowly creeping in around him. Bubbles the Chimera chirped away onscreen, but Mydei’s teleslate had yet to light up with even a single message. Though it had only been one day, he was already anticipating the staggering loss of his foothold that would throw him even further off-balance than before.

Of course, his fears would just have to come true. That night he messaged both the team chat and Phainon again, hoping to receive any word of his activities, but was met with a wall instead. Hyacine and Cipher hardly had any time to play apart from their weekly sessions, so it was up to Mydei to surveil the account each night and play his unending game of tennis with customer support. 

Another day passed the same as before; Mydei woke to see Kephale stumbling around again, he went through his morning routine, headed to work, and returned to only the increased whirring of his computer fan and Bubbles the Chimera’s yawns. Another round of fighting customer support, eating cold leftovers and sleeping at dawn’s rise in anticipation of some change to come. Not once did Phainon pick up his phone. But that was almost a part of the daily agenda as well.

Phainon wasn’t one to be easily pinned down. He spent as much time resisting against the imperceptible fears in his heart as he did clinging to his deepest desires. It was a strange dichotomy, a constant push and pull between desperate attraction and self-conscious reservation. 

It was really no surprise he made himself scarce in the aftermath of that incident. Phainon was deeply reliant on his own usefulness, so much that he derived his own self-worth from it. Once he had outlived his own usefulness, it became a matter of gradually blotting out all traces of his existence until he could no longer burden others. 

Mydei had already witnessed this particular flavor of self-destruction several times before, and said incidents were only ever resolved with proper face to face conflict resolution. With him, even the smallest errors could quickly evolve into pitfalls. No matter how many times he repeated this cycle of burning himself out to light the way for others, Phainon never could come to love himself enough to give in to his desires. He never once privileged his desire for companionship above another’s needs.

The origin of this flaw was still unknown to Mydei. Perhaps Phainon had experienced some traumatic event early on in his life. Or perhaps it was just an integral part of his person, a trait lingering in his DNA that formulated the facade of perfection covering up a deeply fragile ego. He rarely expressed his insecurities, even in an intimate setting free from the prying eyes of outsiders. He’d let Mydei rake over his body with a fine comb, knowing well enough that the faint cracks in his visage would never be at risk of peeling into open wounds as long as he bit his tongue into a bloody pulp instead. 

For as much as his bright and wide eyes did the speaking for him, words often failed him in the most crucial moments. All that time studying the finer intricacies of rhetoric, just to fall apart under the watchful gaze of his equal. Words were not needed between them, Mydei had always believed in spite of everything. He truly believed that their lives, being as tightly intertwined with gold as they were, could never deviate from the same path. They were an unspoken definitive—two people that could understand one another’s hearts between the ringing gaps of silence and lingering sighs. 

But now, Mydei wasn’t so sure anymore. Though he had seen it as an outsider, he was particularly unnerved as one now on the receiving end of his martyred seclusion. The cadence of their paean had been cut short, the once-anticipated rests turning into a startling vacancy of sound.

After doing some digging and contacting their mutual friend Castorice, he was at least made aware that Phainon had started picking up more shifts at work lately. Now he was sacrificing all his free time, his interpersonal relationships, to help others while tackling the issue of his finances all on his own. Mydei, naturally, was displeased. More so than being cut out of the equation suddenly, it was almost as if Phainon had never once considered relying on him to begin with. As if their bond was purely one-sided, not at all the illusion of equality it claimed to be, but rather a single-handed struggle Phainon chose to endure alone. But really—what exactly could he do? How do you make someone listen when they willingly turn their back to yours, covering your weak spot but never once daring to look you in the eyes again?

Worst of all was how obviously unnatural this development was for both of them. Having grown so attuned to Phainon’s body and mind, his wants and needs that he would never outright admit to but still held as any human being did, Mydei could sense the same longing within him no matter where he was. Fleeing was a coward’s way out. Neither side was ever tempted into admitting defeat prematurely, no matter the stakes of the competition. So just how had the white space between them grown so cold with distance and indecision? Nothing about this was right. Still, he was determined to make up for his personal failures no matter what. Resilience in the face of adversity was the only way for a true Kremnoan. So, he continued to fill Phainon's inbox without a moment's hesitation.

Almost seven entire days had passed since the incident when Mydei finally got a reply.

Mydei: Phainon
Mydei: It’s been a long time since you answered your phone
Mydei: Hyacine and Castorice are going to worry about you

Phainon: Just them?

Mydei: So that’s what finally drags you out huh
Mydei: Were you ignoring me this whole time?

Phainon: Of course not! My phone was completely dead
Phainon: I was only able to check it just now

Mydei: Whatever
Mydei: But did you get your account back after all?

Phainon: No. I didn’t even bother emailing tech support
Phainon: Why? Did something happen?

Mydei: You could say that
Mydei: Kephale appeared that same night in Styxia
Mydei: He started walking around in circles like he was possessed

Phainon: What???
Phainon: That is NOT supposed to happen

Mydei: You didn’t give anyone else access to your account right?

Phainon: Of course not!

Mydei: Then you were probably hacked. No wonder your account was flagged for suspicious activity.

Phainon: Unbelievable.
Phainon: You know, I didn’t want to say anything at first. But now I have no choice.
Phainon: This isn’t the first time this has happened

Mydei: You’re kidding.

Phainon: I’m being dead serious Mydeimos
Phainon: This has happened for as long as I can remember
Phainon: I’ll get far enough into an online game and then suddenly my account is gone forever with no explanation!

Mydei: ?????
Mydei: You’ve been getting hacked since childhood and you never thought to tell anyone? Are you actually insane?

Phainon: I don’t know! I thought it was my fault somehow!
Phainon: I didn’t know my characters could revive from the dead and walk around like zombies…
Phainon:ヾ(×× ) ﾂ

This was one such occasion where Mydei seriously began to question his taste in men. Maybe he really was lacking in common sense. For how brilliant and witty Phainon could be, he sure had his moments. This entire week was also a testament to that.

Unfortunately, Phainon did not bother answering again that night. Mydei had long resolved to leave customer support alone and simply monitor the account on his own for further anomalies while awaiting Hyacine and Cipher’s arrival. The team had agreed to suspend the current quest objectives and instead observe Kephale’s behavior now that he had fled Styxia for the more mellow wheat fields of their home base. 

Upon leading his character back home, he caught a glimpse of Kephale, who was busy running around in circles again like he was attempting to chase his own tail. What a pitiful sight it was—O, how far the great Deliverer had fallen from grace. 

Party Log

Team K.A.N.Z

 

@LordMydei600: He’s at it again

@KittyPhantom945: What a pathetic mutt
@KittyPhantom945: Who even has the time to hack that kid
@KittyPhantom945: It’s not like he’s good at the game😹

@Twilight252: I just don’t understand
@Twilight252: The suspension should’ve erased the account.
@Twilight252: So why is it still able to be hacked?

@LordMydei600: It’s more likely to be a virus

@KittyPhantom945: Ha
@KittyPhantom945: Deliverer, didn’t anyone teach you not to click on suspicious links!

@LordMydei600: He lacks common sense. It’s expected at this point.

@Twilight252: Lord Phainon isn’t that careless
@Twilight252: …Right? (^^;)

Truthfully, he wasn’t. Even someone as technologically inept as Phainon knew better than to visit shady websites and download sketchy files. The issue laid in the fact that Mydei doubted a younger, more naive Phainon even knew what an anti-virus software was, much less how to install one on his computer. If a spyware program had been lurking in the background all along, who knew what kind of malicious people could be taking advantage of him all this time? Or, what if an anomaly of a virus had been secretly extrapolating all this time, awaiting the day until it finally broke through each and every firewall in sight?

Mydei shuddered at the thought. If he ever had children of his own, he would most certainly be teaching them proper World Wound Web safety from day one. Titans knew Phainon wouldn’t be the one to do so, anyway.

It was nearing midnight when another prominent anomaly finally made itself known. Hyacine and Cipher had long abandoned him in favor of catching some sleep, leaving Mydei alone to nurse a hot cup of pomegranate tea. He was calmly browsing his email—since he was no longer chained to customer support by pure hatred—when Bubbles the Chimera suddenly jumped up into the air, closed the tab entirely, and then dissolved into a wave of blue pixels. 

“What? Bubbles, what happened to you?” Concerned, Mydei hovered over the desktop assistant application and ran a diagnostics test, only to find that it was allegedly still running perfectly well. It clearly wasn’t, but the system had deemed it so.

Now suspicious, Mydei pulled up his idle Trash King Quest tab and searched the vicinity for Kephale. As if on cue, the character sprite materialized out of thin air right beside Nikador. He was also different, much stranger-looking than he was in the past. The bloody red splotches all over his body had completely blackened, and he now appeared to be wearing some kind of tattered hood instead of his Deliverer’s armor. Where had he even found such an ugly set to wear? Mydei had never seen such a thing anywhere in the game before.

Kephale was glitching badly now, his form completely unstable to the point that Mydei couldn’t even make out his face. Even his name, DawnMaker496, was no longer legible overhead. The mass of black squares simply appeared as “⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️”, a complete corruption of everything the hero had once been and stood for. Phainon would surely be appalled by this outcome, wouldn’t he? 

Against his better judgment, Mydei decided that now was the best time to act.

Private Message

⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️

 

LordMydei600: You aren’t Phainon
LordMydei600: What do you want with his account?

⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️: ⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️

LordMydei600: ???

⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️: ⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️

LordMydei600: Ok
LordMydei600: Clearly you’re hacked or bugged
LordMydei600: I’m reporting this again

⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️: ⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️
⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️: ⬛️N⬛️⬛️o⬛️t⬛️
⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️: ⬛️⬛️A⬛️⬛️B⬛️u⬛️g⬛️

LordMydei600: Then who are you?
LordMydei600: Answer me!

⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️: ⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️
⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️: ⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️
⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️: ⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️

> ⬛️01000101⬛️⬛️01110010⬛️01110010⬛️⬛️⬛️01101111⬛️01110010⬛️⬛️⬛️
> ⬛️⬛️E⬛️⬛️R⬛️R⬛️⬛️O⬛️⬛️R⬛️
> ⬛️⬛️EE⬛️R⬛️R⬛️O⬛️E⬛️⬛️E⬛️B⬛️
> ⬛️3⬛️⬛️3⬛️5⬛️⬛️5⬛️0⬛️3⬛️3⬛️⬛️6⬛️⬛️
> ⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️

In an instant, Mydei’s entire screen froze and turned black, and he nearly leapt out of his chair in surprise at the horrifyingly warped error sound effect that blasted out from his speakers. Of course, everything was restored to order in less than a minute. But TKQ had crashed so spectacularly, Mydei was seriously wondering if he had also permanently doomed his own account to suspension for “suspicious activity”. After seven consecutive days logged in, perhaps that was just inevitable.

Deciding to just finish up some busywork in the meantime, Mydei went about closing all his tabs and reopened his email to scroll through all his employees’ latest gripes about the online processing system’s endless failures.

> From [email protected], 20:43, Subject: Local files?
> From [email protected], 21:09, Subject: Local files?? (help!)
> From [email protected], 21:31, Subject: Processing app. Rejected (help!!!)

His employees were certainly just as useless as some people when it came to technology. While he mentally prepared himself to answer about ten different people complaining about the same exact issue, Mydei happened to notice a small box appearing in the center of his screen. He briefly wondered if Bubbles the Chimera, desktop assistant extraordinaire, had suddenly made a triumphant return. But what appeared instead had him completely dumbfounded.

“What are you supposed to be?”

A five centimeter tall creature had appeared before his eyes in a retina-searing halo of light. It clearly resembled a humanoid and had blond hair and wings like a little pixie, but the soul-deep gashes across its body seemed to bleed pure, molten gold. As it bobbed up and down in the center of the screen, the creature stared blankly ahead without even a glint of light within its eyes. Mydei stared back at it wordlessly. 

Then, a wall of indecipherable text once again flooded his screen

> ⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️!⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️!⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️!⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️!⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️!⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️!⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️!⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️!⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️!⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️!⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️!⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️!⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️!⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️!⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️!⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️!⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️!⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️!⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️!⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️!⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️!⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️!⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️!⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️!⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️!⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️!⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️!⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️!!!!!!!!!!!

What in the world was happening?

Chapter Text

The silence stretched out far longer than mere moments or seconds, but Mydei couldn’t recall exactly how long he had stared, almost comically slack-jawed and wide-eyed, at the sight before him. 

He blinked. He blinked again.

Nope. Not a hallucination.

The creature was still hovering in place as if it had always been there, about a hundred blacked-out tabs slowly flashing in and out of existence behind it. This effect was just as blinding as the creature itself was upon its arrival, causing Mydei to squint like all the times he’d accidentally left his glasses at home during his student days. Everything about this creature—the blonde hair that spiked up like a chimera’s horns on top, the shimmery river of gold pooling throughout its body, even the metallic-looking spikes protruding from its skin—could probably rival the eternally sunny skies of Okhema. 

The blood swirling inside its chest resembled the ichor of the ancient Amphorean gods, the same ones portrayed in Trash King Quest as boss enemies, as well as the inspiration behind everyone’s character sprite names. Though, in all his years as a researcher of the old world, Mydei had never come across a local deity even remotely close to resembling this one. Not even the titankin were portrayed with such jarringly human features.

Be it a fairy, an elf, a deity or the sun itself—this thing, however human-looking, was closer to the appearance of a puppet than a living thing. The gashes carved deep into its skin seemed to crack and shatter like the casing on a porcelain doll, or as the towering statues recovered from the depths of Aidonia’s snowy wastelands so often appeared in the museums. 

It may have been beautiful to gaze upon in its own twisted way. But perhaps it was the watchful eyes of the world that had ruined it in the first place.

If anything, this creature resembled the Blemished aeon above more than a revered symbol of the local peoples. But Mydei hardly knew more about the universe to dictate a common Path motif as opposed to the ghastly mythos of the Xianzhou Alliance, so its origins would likely remain unknown without conducting the proper research into this matter. 

First things first, though. He tucked the curious, scholarly side of his brain away for the moment and decided to focus on the current situation. Primarily, discovering the reason for the creature’s appearance and restoring his computer to normal.

Mydei quickly inputted Ctrl+Alt+Delete on his keyboard and gripped his mouse tightly, rolling a finger over the wheel as he attempted to navigate through the sea of scorched popup windows. The pointer seemed to dislike being controlled, twitching as he moved away from the creature’s unholy form to force open the task manager. It almost seemed to resist his movements, as if the creature was knowingly sucking the mouse pointer into its vortex of swirling data. Yes, it was far too powerful for its own good already. Mydei’s concern for the future of his computer was growing by the minute.

A quick look at the new window revealed all the currently operating programs available for his perusal. The desktop assistant application was still running in the background and everything else seemed to be functional. In fact, at first glance, that program was the only thing still running apart from his engaged TKQ and GoldMail tabs.

Adding that to the fact that Bubbles the Chimera just so happened to disappear right as this thing appeared… 

Were desktop assistants programmed to be this advanced nowadays? Had he trained Bubbles so well that he evolved into a completely original species? Even growing up as one of the few non-AmphoMon fans at school, Mydei had seen how ridiculous the evolutions could get. But Lv. 1 Chimera → Lv. 33550336 Tormented Fairy Man? They were clearly missing a step or two in the middle there. Something just wasn’t adding up here. Even if Bubbles the Chimera had a super secret hidden godly form that no one knew about, it shouldn’t be unlocked by linking your TKQ account of all things!

Throughout all of Mydei’s meandering, he failed to realize that his mouse was slowly being dragged back towards the creature into its little fortress of glitching popup windows. In an instant, the task manager was forcibly closed and the creature had extended its chubby hands to grasp onto the mouse pointer.

Mydei frowned and attempted to roll away from it. It didn’t move. Again—nothing. The creature clung to it stubbornly with an iron grip.

“Let go. I have things to do.”

Of course, the creature didn’t budge. And why should it? He was talking to a computer. Not just that, but a set of pixels onscreen. It was about time he regained his senses.

A small, strange creature had appeared on Mydei’s monitor after he messaged the unstable game account online. This creature might not have resembled the white-haired hero Kephale in the slightest, but these unusual circumstances just had to be related. Something was clearly malfunctioning behind the scenes, and Mydei had every intention of plucking out the root of the problem.

He powered off his mouse and the triangular icon instantly disappeared from the screen. The creature, now holding onto absolutely nothing, seemed to startle. Its shimmering wings fluttered slightly, creating faint ripples of red in its wake. Though its eyes never once wavered with emotion, it almost looked like it was glitching, unsure of how to proceed without the safety net it had latched onto. Something pulsed uncomfortably in Mydei’s abdomen. He grit his teeth together and turned the mouse back on, hovering back over the tab with his in-game messages before the creature could react.

Private Message

⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️

 

@LordMydei: Are you the one doing this?

 

⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️: ⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️

⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️: ⬛️⬛️H⬛️⬛️ol⬛️⬛️d⬛️⬛️⬛️

⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️: ⬛️N⬛️o⬛️⬛️⬛️T⬛️a⬛️⬛️ke⬛️⬛️

 

@LordMydei: It’s a yes or no question. 

@LordMydei: Answer me.

 

⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️: ⬛️⬛️⬛️Y⬛️e⬛️s⬛️⬛️

Mydei looked over at the creature again. Somehow its form had grown more unstable in the past minute, so bad it was visibly glitching the space around it. Its wings flapped frantically to keep it hovering in place. Still, the look in its eyes was unchanged. The creature’s blank stare was so intense it almost seemed to be looking straight through the monitor back into Mydei’s own eyes. Unnerved, he decided to completely shut down his computer for a soft restart. The creature’s unwavering gaze prickled at his skin as he pressed down on the power button. And though its face had yet to move in any direction at all, somehow it managed to wear an expression darker than the evernight itself.

Five seconds…ten seconds…an entire twenty seconds passed. Mydei’s screen was flooded with sweltering patches of red and the fan started spinning rapidly. The monitor itself also increased in temperature, leaving a scorching haze in the air. Beside the creature, the idle tabs had darkened considerably, creating a mirage of violent bloodshed across the scenic overview of the Kremnoan ruins on his desktop.

Sweat gathered on Mydei’s brow and still the creature stared at him. Twenty-five, thirty, thirty-five seconds. What was taking so long? The fan spun around and around, faster and faster, and a new prompt appeared in the void:

> Warning! CPU Overheating Alert!

Was the creature deliberately trying to stop the shutdown? Could it even do that in the first place? Just how strong was this thing anyway?

After an entire minute of sweat-inducing agony, the prompt finally appeared amidst a sea of glitching red static. Mydei slammed the POWER DOWN button and the screen cut to black. Gone were the creature, the overheating and the illusory battlefield that had clouded his senses—almost as if they had never existed in the first place.

Finally exhaling, Mydei slumped down on his desk just low enough that he could barely make out his surroundings. Up on the shelf between some old poetry volumes were several framed photographs taken at a festival in the city years ago. The sun shone in a corona around the lens, painting all his friends in a dazzling light. Even from the dimmest corner of his office, Mydei easily spotted all the shots with Phainon in them. With a wide grin and an arm looped securely around Mydei’s neck, he was always too bright to ignore.

Beside the photographs were a few souvenirs and Fig Stew the Chimera plushes, nestled right up against his pitch-black computer monitor. Mydei wasn’t usually the collector type, but once his friends discovered one of his passions, they latched onto it as the go-to for every gift-giving occasion. Castorice in particular was always finding new crochet patterns to make little outfits for everyone’s chimera toys. Currently, Fig Stew was wrapped up in a bright blue sweater decorated with little clouds, a shared set with the Beagle Coconut plush back over in Phainon’s apartment. Even their chimeras were a perfectly matched pair. It was something like fate.

No use thinking about that now. Mydei was too curious about the current issue with his computer to be bitter anyway.

Nothing was there on the screen, save for the faint halo burned into it, though even that was little more than a hazy afterimage now. Just a small proof that it hadn’t been some exhaustion-induced fever dream.

Thinking back to the beginning, every step in this convoluted series of inexplicable events was difficult to accept as being real. On their own, each anomaly made absolutely no sense at all.

A suspended gaming account. The resurrected character sprite and cryptic private messages to accompany it. Bubbles the Chimera disappearing, only to be replaced by a fairy with golden eyes. And said fairy tried to forcefully keep his PC running by locking the mouse pointer in place and spurring up a torrent of glitches all over the screen.

But now, everything that had happened these past several days was neatly linked before him in a linear timeline of events. And the very first link in the chain, the origin of this entire mess, was none other than…

“Did you seriously pass your little computer virus onto me, Phainon?” Mydei groaned into his sweater sleeve. No one was around to hear his complaints, but he felt like voicing his frustrations was the only way of coping with this so-called “revelation”. After all, he was the one who pushed Phainon to order a new computer in the first place after he reported issues during previous gaming sessions. 

It got to the point that Mydei even offered to order one himself. But Phainon, being Phainon, was not one to accept charity without giving something of equal value in return. Like an overeager dog, he had promptly dropped 50,000 balance coins into Mydei’s in-game wallet and mailed him an ultra-rare SSS-Rank pair of Kremnoan Steel gauntlets as a “free inclusion”. Naturally, the whole ordeal quickly turned into a competition of who could procure the better in-game gift package, and both he and Phainon had forgotten the original issue altogether in favor of draining their virtual banking accounts.

Now, Mydei could only regret not having put his foot down back then and there to prevent any future computer troubles on Phainon’s end. Not to mention the fact that half of the current situation was his own fault to begin with; it was Mydei who decided to message a visibly glitching account that even the owner no longer wanted to deal with. For a man who prided himself on restraint, he always seemed to betray his own sensibility when it came to Phainon. Just why was indulging in foolishness so irresistible when it came to him? Why couldn’t he stay levelheaded at such critical moments? Was a pair of wide, pleading blue eyes—eyes so full of light they too were almost blinding—all it took to ruin him entirely? 

In the lingering silence, he could almost hear his partner's lilting voice retorting, Viruses are known to spread, Mydeimos, especially to those in very close proximity.

What an absolute mess the two of them were together.

In between the unending time spent staring at his monitor with a look of pure exasperation and pacing his room in search of anything to keep his mind off of Phainon’s glaring absence from his life, Mydei channeled his frustrations into his passion for research. 

Though this was hardly comparable to the enjoyable work he conducted at the archives every day, and he only found himself growing more frustrated at the holes surrounding each aspect of this anomaly. Even his searches grew unrefined with time, as if he himself had yet to dig even an inch beneath the surface and was just grasping at the very topmost layer of the soil for anything:

> how to make employees more self sufficient

> add nutrients for better salads

> best ways to show partner you care

> restore tkq suspended account

> tkq hacked bugged account help

> computer virus bypass antivirus program

> fairy elf computer virus

> signs you need a new computer

“This is unbearable,” he groaned. So much for being the most competent staff member at the cultural center who was the sole person in charge of the electronic archives system. His brain was about as fried as his CPU.

He was tired, hungry, and running out of patience. Soon enough it would be the Entry Hour again, and he’d have officially stayed up way too long. Mydei was always lecturing his friends about maintaining a balanced lifestyle that consisted of a healthy diet, daily exercise, and no fewer than eight hours of sleep every night. Now it was his time to play hypocrite, he supposed. Just another thing Phainon had passed onto him this month.

He clearly needed to rest as soon as humanly possible. Flicking his attention back over to the screen, the creature was holding his mouse pointer hostage again. Nothing the old “turn it off and back on again” trick couldn’t solve though. It seemed just as agitated as before, but at least it didn’t throw another computer-melting tantrum. Perhaps it had learned its lesson after the first time being forcibly shut down.

Mydei moved the mouse over to the task bar to put everything in sleep mode. But as it turned out, in his absence, another grim surprise had been laid out for him like a trophy.

What was once the desktop virtual assistant program had transformed into something more sinister. The icon, which was supposed to be a simple PNG of Bubbles the Chimera, had also changed. No longer was Bubbles exiled to the corner like a prisoner, unable to move or say anything under the creature’s watchful gaze. Now he was just slumped over with a black greatsword lodged into his side. There wasn’t blood or anything too graphic, but this too unnerved Mydei beyond words.

“Titans, you’re sick,” Mydei mumbled to himself. He quickly unpinned the application so he wouldn’t have to look at gore of his comfort chimera anymore. “What did Bubbles ever do to you? Don’t tell me you lost at Seal Slammers one too many times and took it way too personally.”

The creature continued to watch him without a hint of remorse. With its sharp tufts of hair and narrowed eyes, it somewhat resembled a cat at certain angles. It even brought Mydei an offering to earn his approval. Again, grim, but it was the thought that counted.

Or maybe he was just losing all rationale as the night stretched itself thin.

Glancing back towards the exit from this personal hell, he spotted the application returning from its previous dismissal. Just how stubborn was this thing? At least it had the decency to revert the icon back to a black square. Now, without the gruesome trophy in front of him, Mydei noticed the conspicuous file name. No longer was it titled Bubbles.exe but rather…

“δ_me13? What even is that?”

He clicked on the icon multiple times, hoping to reload the application as he had earlier, but the program file refused to load. Another error message reading “⬛️⬛️H⬛️i⬛️⬛️!” then appeared. 

Mydei, at that moment, decided he’d officially had enough for one night.

After a full eight hours of sleep, an early afternoon exercise session, brunch, and a mere three hours spent at the office (which earned him more than a few frustrated huffs from Krateros, who still couldn’t figure out how to open files sourced from a cloud), Mydei crawled back to his ever-silent apartment with a bag of takeout from Kyros’s Grille in hand and obsessively scanned his computer for any new developments.

His observations were as follows:

1. The creature was still there
2. He had forgotten to turn the mouse off and the creature was holding it again
3. Bubbles the Chimera was still M.I.A
4. TKQ was running at 8 fps and only the messages feature worked 
5. His computer was practically boiling after running for so long

Now aware that the World Wound Web was basically useless, Mydei decided to return to his team for assistance. Even if Hyacine was busy running around the hospital as usual, there was a chance Cipher would be lurking online.

Team K.A.N.Z

TKQ Thursdays…?

 

Mydei: Look at this

Mydei: strangevirus.mp4

Mydei: Thoughts?

 

Hyacine: What exactly is this?

 

Mydei: The consequences of chatting with the possessed Kephale

Mydei: Definitely wouldn’t recommend doing that

Mydei: Do you have any ideas, Hyacine?

 

Hyacine: Sorry, Lord Mydei ( • ᴖ • ｡)

Hyacine: Intellitrons are people too, but…

Hyacine: I only know how to take care of human patients!

 

Mydei: It’s alright. Thanks for always doing your best.

 

Cipher: Well it’s definitely a virus!

Cipher: Doesn’t look like a Janus Steed or True Sting though

Cipher: So it must have infected TKQ directly and spread

 

Mydei: How can you be sure?

 

Cipher: Because I’m not seeing any new corrupted files

Cipher: That’s how they usually get you ฅ/ᐠ. ̫ .ᐟ\ฅ 

 

Mydei: I see. 

 

Cipher: I thought you’d know better than the Deliverer though!

Cipher: ALWAYS keep an antivirus on your PC, little lion!

 

Mydei: I already have one

Mydei: It just got bypassed. Somehow.

 

Cipher: Which means your antivirus got infected too

Cipher: ꉂ(˵˃ ᗜ ˂˵)

 

Mydei: Cipher, please. It’s not that funny.

Cipher’s intel had essentially confirmed what he had already known. The creature was undoubtedly a virus that used Kephale as a vessel to enter his computer. 

“Which means you hid yourself in TKQ on Phainon's computer. He only had to play the game as usual to let you inside.” Mydei ran a hand through his choppy bangs and sighed. Even his voice had turned ragged and scratchy after a poor night’s sleep. This was exactly why maintaining a strict routine was so crucial. Why couldn’t he just follow his own advice for once? “And then I went investigating the anomaly, falling into the same trap as he did in the end.”

Thinking about Phainon had previously made him itch, but now that sensation had transformed into an actively nagging need to go seek his other half out and get some solid answers for once. 

Most of all, Mydei needed to see him. To confirm that Phainon was still in one piece, was still breathing and eating and taking decent care of himself through these times of unease.

Mydei: I know you’re not going to bother reading this

Mydei: So I’m just going to come over

Mydei: You better be ready to talk when I get there

He also decided to send a message to Castorice. If not to determine Phainon’s whereabouts, then at least to update her on the situation. She might not have been part of their little gaming team, taking more interest in creative hobbies, but she was still a dear friend to everyone. 

Mydei: I’m guessing you haven’t heard from Phainon either?

 

Castorice: Sorry. I’m not really of any use.

Castorice: I do think of him as my best friend

Castorice: So it’s quite disheartening for me as well

 

Mydei: I know, Castorice.

 

Castorice: And I did talk with Cyrene this morning

Castorice: She hasn't heard from him either

 

Mydei: He's even ignoring her? That's a new low

 

Castorice: I'm sure in Phainon's mind he must have a good reason for all of this

Castorice: I just wish it didn't have to manifest in such an upsetting way…

 

Mydei: I’m tired of waiting

 

Castorice: I know you’re frustrated, Mydei

Castorice: We all are. And you’re so close, it must be difficult.

Castorice: But what are you planning to do?

 

Mydei: What I should’ve done from the beginning

Mydei: Confront him face to face, obviously.

 

Castorice: …

Castorice: And you’re sure this will work?

 

Mydei: He can run all he wants

Mydei: But at the end of the day, he’ll still come home

Mydei: I’m sure of it

 

Castorice: Hm.

Castorice: Be safe, then. I’m wishing you luck.

Castorice: ( ˊᵕˋ )♡

It was still the first quint of the Parting Hour, and the sun had yet to set outside his window. Now or never, Mydei thought as he strapped his boot buckles back into place. He shrugged on his wool overcoat, deciding to forgo his keys in favor of walking. Phainon lived just twenty minutes away on Marmoreal Main Avenue, his apartment block built atop the marketplace from days past.

The oldest slates all heralded it as the life force of the eternal holy city, a true cultural center kept alive not by paltry documents plundered from the ashes of a decayed world, but one with blood coursing hot through its core. No one in this era of Amphoreus had ever known a world like that. They all simply existed in the shadow of an impossibly heavy past—the fate of one born beneath a blazing sun who can never hope to grasp its warmth.

Mydei let his feet carry him on the familiar route through the pearly heights of the mountain city as if it were home. And perhaps it was, after six years of living here among its people; though it would be his second, if he was counting his childhood home in Kremnos. His mother would have his head if he ever suggested otherwise. 

The winding, picturesque streets were a far cry from the wasteland that the modernized Kremnos was built upon. Okhema was the last surviving city-state of the ancient world, of course, so even evening walks could feel like touring a historical site. Children tossed toy balls down the hills and danced around in circles holding hands, and flowers bloomed between the small cracks in the pathways, but the holy city would always remain a landmark in the eyes of the greater universe. And nothing captured that angle quite like the gargantuan pillars of Theosphere Lake that loomed at the city’s summit.

The waters had once dried up completely, but with the Council of Elders’ proposal to reinvigorate Okhema as the true heart of Amphoreus, a complete restoration project was enacted over the course of a thousand years. The pillars bearing the marks of the ancient gods were the last surviving emblem of Amphoreus’ cultural traditions, and it would be each succeeding generation’s duty to ensure they never crumbled.

Mydei, while not the type to entertain such religious zeal, sympathized with their efforts. Forget the gods of old altogether, this was their entire world’s history. Preserving it for the future was always his best interest as a historian who understood the present through the lens of the past.

He had held impossibly old photographic records in his own two hands, felt their yellowing sheen with his own skin, let himself be immersed in moments so far removed from his reality. Those accounts from millennia ago were proof enough that the ancient gods once inhabited Amphoreus just as humankind did. The stone statue of the Worldbearer had long crumbled to ash, but remnants of their glory were commemorated with a much more humble monument at the holy grounds of Dawncloud. 

Mydei had seen it for himself on multiple occasions, and it did stir something within him. 

Even without the grandeur of the past, Kephale was still an impressive sight to behold. They were the only titan whose complete form was found in the ruins of the old world; though the divine tree of Cerces still stood in the Grove of Epiphany, its hollowed and shriveled form had been slowly rotting away since time immemorial. 

The ancient academy was open to the public for tours, but complete restoration of the area was deemed impossible without the influence of memoria. Those priests who still worshiped Oronyx would pray at their god’s altar for blessings that would never arrive, just as the cold gaze of the aeons always passed by their little world with indifference. In the end, the Grove of Epiphany was never rebuilt. Only a handful of texts that hadn’t sunk into the mire of boiling gold were salvaged from that beautiful library.

Though the University of Okhema had been deemed the successor to the Grove’s academy, the bustling city streets could hardly compare to the natural serenity of its predecessor. Dew rarely sat untouched on grass that always bathed in sunlight. The noise pollution generated from traffic in the lower city rang constantly in his ears. SoulGlad advertisements were found on every billboard of every street corner, and ships from above would often fly in and out of sight, traveling far beyond the small world that he called home.

Sometimes Mydei also wondered what kept everyone here. Cipher and Professor Anaxagoras could find themselves in any line of work beyond the starry skies, and Aglaea would certainly be a renowned seamstress for all the universe’s most prolific celebrities. Hyacine could study medicine on another planet, and perhaps Castorice would take her sister along to tour the grandest gardens out there. 

Phainon and Cyrene would suit the role of galactic travelers well. The love they both held for their hometown was unparalleled, but the world beyond the skies had utterly captivated them as children. That was the reason they relocated to Okhema in their adolescence, after all. So it was a wonder they hadn’t jetted off to some alien port town as soon as they reached adulthood. But the lively Cyrene just skipped around the world in circles, and Phainon remained comfortably in place. He hadn’t even taken the opportunity to visit the Penaconian branch of Cery’s Salads for its grand opening celebration.

(Mydei would never forget how Phainon’s boss chewed him out over the phone the next day as if he had personally offended her entire bloodline. Apparently her lover had prepared a generous gift basket for the “feast,” and his quiet refusal was akin to declaring war on the CEO herself. He’d ended up holding onto Mydei quietly that entire night, his face gaunt and hands trembling. Who knew such a small foe could inspire such fear?)

No, it hardly made any sense at all. None of them were chained by their past, nor was there any imminent danger lurking in the shadows. Amphoreus was always peaceful, as far as he knew. It was rare to find a world so unburdened by war and violence. By all means, all of his friends should have set out to see the stars by now. Mydei would always be here, waiting for the day they eventually returned. 

And yet, here they all remained. It was as if they had no ambitions at all besides living a peaceful life together in Amphoreus’ most beautiful city. Mydei could understand that feeling well enough. Even now, he was running to catch up with his ever-so-stubborn “equal,” the one who had never outpaced him before. 

Too many anomalies were cropping up everywhere in his life. He had to regain control before it all began to spiral out of his grasp for good.

Arriving at Phainon’s place, Mydei raised a hefty fist and knocked three times on the front door. He waited for only a few tense moments before repeatedly pounding on the door with the knocker. Nothing.

That constant silence was always getting to him.

He dropped his hand to rummage around in his pocket for the keys to the apartment. Phainon had given him the spare the very day he moved in, mumbling something about unlimited free homemade meals against his lips as he crowded Mydei against his completely barren walls. The searing heat of those fragile moments lingered in his mind every time he brushed his fingers over the hard metal ridges, feeling the small letter “P” engraved on the head. Or, in this case, the lack of said feeling.

At that moment, Mydei distinctly remembered his previous decision to leave his keys behind; all of his keys, the spare to Phainon’s apartment included. Huh.

Humorlessly, Mydei laughed and fell backwards to lean against the door. “So that’s how it is. Everything between us is contagious. Even your idiocy is infecting me now.”

Or, as Castorice would reinterpret through her usual poetics: Souls entwined with golden threads shall never be parted. Well, she was always more inclined to follow in Aglaea’s footsteps in pursuit of life’s greatest beauty. But Mydei saw no point in denying what was obvious to the rest of the world. 

Was his foolishness just as apparent now? Maybe. He had spent the better half of a month trying to track down the origin of the virus infecting his boyfriend’s computer without ever actually consulting a professional (no, strangers on the local forums did not count, they were practically useless anyway). He got pulled so deep into this venture that he ended up infecting his own computer with said virus, and now it was wreaking no small amount of havoc on his CPU. 

He had run out to meet Phainon when he wasn’t even home, forgot his keys, even forgot to double check the weather forecast for tonight because it was always supposed to be sunshine and rainbows in Okhema, how could he have anticipated literally anything else?

Tiny, frigid drops fell flat on Mydei’s head from the clouds high up above, further muddying his mind. Nothing made sense anymore. But maybe it already hadn’t for a long, long time. Maybe, these anomalies were there from the very beginning. He was just lost in a daze after being exposed to the unfamiliar, blinding rays of hope.

The early days of their relationship were somewhat rocky in the same way that most university friendships were. Granted, part of that was a result of Phainon's brainless attempts at chatting him up, and Mydei was already put off by the sheer amount of times the man could reference his “perfectly sculpted body” in a single conversation. So maybe “friendship” wasn't exactly the right word to use here. But the Mydei of that time was too hesitant to try putting any labels on the new and fresh thing between them, so he digressed.

Their usual post-lecture café dates continued without a hitch. Phainon was especially eager to talk about their ongoing research projects, always probing Mydei for more information about his latest finds in the university archives. He’d sip obnoxiously on his latte, flash Mydei an even more obnoxious grin and lean his cheek into his palm as if lukewarm conversations about ancient Kremnoan battle formations made him swoon. And when Mydei politely motioned for him to discuss his own paper, he merely laughed and shook his head.

“No, please. My project really isn’t that interesting. I want to hear more about you!”

The remainder of the fall semester went on much the same way. After a solid four months of mentally kicking himself over all the painfully awkward and one-sided conversations he endured, Mydei didn’t place much faith in their little tradition surviving winter break. 

On the thirty-second day of the Month of Fortune, just after the conclusion of the final day of classes, Phainon was waiting for him outside the lecture hall as usual. Mydei exhaled slowly, hiked his satchel up on his shoulder, and approached. He was instantly struck with one of Phainon’s signature blinding grins. It was almost too bright to look upon directly.

“Mydei, hey! Ready to go? I know the semester’s already over, but I’m sure you have  tons of interesting projects lined up for the spring—”

“Actually.” Mydei bluntly interrupted his tirade. It was just like ripping off a bandage, right? The quicker he got this painful interaction over with, the better. “It’s probably better if we just went home.”

Phainon blinked at him slowly. Once, twice, three times. Mydei nearly began to sweat under the attentive gaze of his huge, sky blue eyes.

And then, he blushed from head to toe brighter than any overpriced bottle of pomegranate juice sold on campus. 

He stuttered out, “O-oh…” and instantly held out his hand to Mydei. He stared at it, then at Phainon’s expectant expression, and then back at the hand. What was he…?

“Are you not the hand-holding type? Sorry. I’m ready though, so lead the way!”

Just what kind of hole had Mydei managed to dig himself into now? Surely, Phainon didn’t think he was inviting him over to his place, did he?

Who was he kidding, of course Phainon thought exactly that.

After another lengthy, painful moment of silence, Mydei gave a tired sigh and yanked Phainon forward by the hand. Phainon yelped, but decidedly bit his tongue as Mydei proceeded to thread their fingers together. He really wasn’t the hand-holding type, but this whole day was already enough of a disaster. What was one more inconvenience added to his infinitely-expanding list?

If their conversations never went anywhere, they were better off not talking all night.

On the first day of the Month of Balance, the very instant Mydei entered his 8 AM art history class, he spotted Phainon perched on a wooden stool at the front of the room. Mydei stopped in the doorway, swallowed, and walked inside. He was instantly struck with an unusually affectionate expression from Phainon. His smile was still bright enough to sear a permanent image in his mind, but those ruddy cheeks and drooping eyes were definitely new.

“Mydei,” he called out, almost too soft. “I didn’t know you were in this class. Did Tribbie recruit you on the street?”

He’d moved his bag from the stool beside him to the floor, gesturing for Mydei to take a seat. As he entered the classroom fully, he saw only one other student—a purple-haired girl who was seated to Phainon’s left. She watched him carefully from behind a large drawing pad, as if she were observing him for a composition of some sorts. Mydei sat down stiffly, trying his utmost to ignore the blatant stares he was receiving. What a pain this was already turning out to be.

Never one to mince his words, Mydei dryly replied, “I’m majoring in history. It isn’t unusual for me to enroll in Professor Goldweaver’s class.”

Phainon and the other student immediately turned to look at one another, poorly hiding giggles behind their hands. Mydei crossed his arms and tried not to feel too put off. He could very well move his stool away if things got too uncomfortable.

For all his previous blunders, Phainon seemed to read his body language perfectly well now that they were in another student’s company. “Sorry, sorry. It’s just—I’ve never heard anyone refer to Aglaea so formally like that!”

“We found it endearing,” the girl added with a shy smile. “You’re Mydei, right? I’m Castorice, a friend of Phainon’s. We’ve both been taking Aglaea’s art classes since our first year at the university. We weren’t expecting anyone else to enroll in this section.”

“Nice to meet you, Castorice. I honestly just needed an art credit and this was the only option available to me. The time probably threw most people off.”

Phainon suddenly interjected, “Aglaea’s classes are something of a niche. Only the most cultured of students find their way into her lectures!”

Mydei narrowed his eyes. “Then why are you here?”

“Wh—Mydei! That stung!”

Castorice giggled to herself again, and Mydei secretly concealed a smile of his own. This was the most comfortable conversation he’d had with Phainon so far. Were they just missing a third party all this time, a quiet and sensitive person like Castorice to keep them both grounded firmly in reality? Phainon, despite the awed look emanating from his eyes, was finally responding to him instead of sitting passively while Mydei talked. Maybe Castorice’s presence encouraged him to feel more comfortable and break out of his shell? Though, thinking back, Mydei had never taken him for an introvert at all…

Mydei turned his attention back to Castorice, opening his mouth to ask about their friendship history, but he was interrupted by a pointed clearing of the throat right beside his ear. Mydei shot Phainon a dirty look, and though he seemed to sulk like a neglected dog for a moment, he immediately straightened upon hearing the classroom door opening and several pairs of feet entering.

“Snowy! Little Cas! We’re back!” A child’s cheery voice broke through the otherwise quiet room. Said voice belonged to a little redheaded girl wearing a rocket-shaped backpack who was holding about ten too many stacks of documents in her hands. She was accompanied by an elegant-looking woman that could only be Aglaea.

Phainon quickly snapped back to his usual self. “You already have the course syllabus ready? You’ve become such a diligent assistant, Tribbie.”

“Aw, thanks Snowy! But there’s no need for this show of flattery. I think our new friend here already likes you, even if you are a little silly sometimes.”

The girl, Tribbie—who was apparently their teaching assistant despite being no older than nine years old—also cast a not-so-subtle glance over at Mydei and giggled. 

They’re all exactly the same, Mydei bemoaned. I might be at a disadvantage here.

Despite his initial worries, the rest of the spring semester went smoothly enough. The quartet of his art history course quickly integrated themselves into Mydei’s everyday life as if they had always been there. From slow afternoons spent lazing around Castorice’s dorm room, evenings cramming in the library, their class trips to Okhema’s local art museums and Tribbie’s numerous (failed) attempts to play driving instructor for Phainon, every interaction was like reclaiming something he had lost ages ago.

Mydei and Phainon shared a bed more times than they could count, and only about fifty percent of that time was spent sleeping. When they weren’t busy falling into one another, they’d play games on Mydei’s old home gaming console until the weight of their latest assignments caused their bruised eyelids to droop shut for the night. Their habits soon became routine, became a formal schedule that even invaded Mydei’s calendar. He began to actively plan his life around Phainon and his newfound friends at school, something he had never once considered as a possibility. 

He was happy back then. A little naive, yet so happy.

But then summer came along, and with it, an unbearable heat that left his skin crawling. Phainon, who was always smiling just in his periphery, had begun to drift further out of sight until his gleaming visage had all but disappeared. 

Seven days. That’s how long it had been since they had talked.

And there Phainon was, standing under the awning outside his building as the sun beat down on the city. The faint lines on his face were pulled taut, painting his handsome features in a more severe light than usual. He looked almost unapproachable from a distance, though he was wearing his favorite mustard-colored flannel and the leather satchel Aglaea sent over for his birthday last month. She hadn’t let him wear such a “loud” shirt back then, insisting he take home one of her personal creations in exchange for a short modeling session. As usual, Phainon was only amenable to the gifts if he was of equal use to the giver. Mydei had just presented him with a gift card to their favorite café and demanded they go out for coffee after class again. And Phainon was more than happy to oblige.

They’d been doing better since the semester’s start, no longer constrained by awkward self-consciousness as they steadily grew closer and closer. Mydei was even comfortable enough to let this man sleep in his bed every night without question. So what was with this tense atmosphere between them all of a sudden? Had he come on too strong too quickly and scared Phainon off? No, impossible. Phainon was the very definition of “coming on too strong.” Mydei hadn’t forgotten all the terrible flirtations he’d been forced to endure throughout the fall semester. 

Phainon didn’t seem to notice him approaching until Mydei swung an arm around his neck and mimicked strangling him. He looked panicked for all of a second before relaxing into Mydei’s hold and sighing. “Oh, hey Mydei. I don’t know how I didn’t see you coming, what with that terribly conspicuous body of yours always drawing a crowd across campus!”

Huh. Maybe things weren’t that off between them after all.

Mydei tightened his grasp, causing Phainon to cough and start squirming free for air. He sneered, “Still talking nonsense at a time like this? You have some nerve after ignoring me all week.”

“Ack! I…I was busy, okay? Super busy! With my internship straight from the Nether Realm!” Phainon choked out. He managed to break free and gasped for breath, turning to Mydei with a glare as he rubbed at the skin beneath his leather collar. “Since when were you such a sadist, Mydei?”

Mydei promptly ignored him and dragged him off in the direction of the Golden Scapegoat Café.

“Hurry up. I want pomegranate juice and a pastry.” 

Phainon only shot him an exasperated look before straightening himself out and following in Mydei’s stead. And that was the extent of their confrontation back then. Mydei never pushed too hard, always afraid to overstep his boundaries and cause Phaino to further retreat into himself. All he could do was shove Phainon lightly in the right direction and ensure he never strayed from the group for too long. And most times, it worked. 

Heavy undereye bags during exam season? An extra large coffee and a warm bed to nap in after class it was. Arguments with groupmates over a presentation? Nothing a few laps around Styxian Shoals and Rainbow Bridge couldn’t solve. Anything less than an “A” on his final exams? Going on a stroll through the meadows located on the outskirts of town was great for clearing the mind. 

At the time, Mydei had everything perfectly under control. Or, so he had thought.

But now? Now, he most definitely had his regrets.

Even with an overcoat, Mydei wasn’t safe from the sudden rainstorm that came crashing down from the skies above Okhema. As the hours drew on and his eyes fought to stay awake, he hardly even felt the raindrops soaking his entire body anymore. All he could do was replay the past five years of his life on loop as he dozed, searching for any other inconsistencies he may have missed. 

The problem was, though their relationship may not have been as clear-cut as most, they were comfortable. Oftentimes too comfortable to try changing anything between them. But, even so, their bond was undeniable. They would always be each other’s person no matter what. And Mydei, though he refused to admit it even in the silence of his own room, knew deep down that his heart was already full of Phainon’s everything.

Mydei blinked awake far too early the following morning. He rubbed at his fogged-over eyes and checked his teleslate. Curtain-Fall Hour, 3:17 AM. 

Looks like he spent the better part of the night slumped over on Phainon's stoop. If it hadn’t rained so hard, one of the neighbors probably would’ve reported him for public intoxication or something. Not all Okhemans were close-minded like the elders, but Mydei didn’t want to take any unnecessary risks.

Stepping out onto the street, Mydei kept his eyes focused straight ahead and didn’t turn back. His boots made a gross, slick sound on the marble pathways as he trudged back up through the mountain passage. Okhema smelled like Antila flowers in the early spring, and the fragrance wafted from every corner where the petals had washed up.

Hardly anyone was out and about at this hour, and the few indifferent businessmen and drunkards who passed by paid him no mind. For the first time in weeks, Mydei didn’t mind being overlooked. He was perfectly content experiencing this moment on his own.

The walk back home through the drenched streets had left him feeling oddly refreshed. Mydei was always partial to borderline boiling baths himself, but maybe the impromptu cold shower had its benefits after all. Those long hours of reminiscing on all the best and worst moments they shared throughout the years felt like a sudden clarity washing over him.

None of this was “sudden”. It had been there all along. All of it.

Phainon’s terrible sense of self-esteem. His evasive tendencies. His fear of confrontation. His self-sacrificing nature. 

Even the virus that had transferred from his PC to Mydei’s had been there throughout it all. And perhaps that was reason enough to keep going down this path, to figure out just what untold secrets lay beyond the cage of wires and circuit boards.  

Mydei was now reminded of a particular conversation they shared in their final semester of undergraduate studies. It was during one of their countless outings across campus, just a mundane lunch date shared on a sparsely populated lawn. He was preoccupied with his meat lover’s salad, courtesy of Phainon, when said man cleared his throat. Mydei met his eyes, curious, and he just grinned sheepishly.

“Professor Anaxa proposed a unique assignment to us today. I’ve been trying to figure it out on my own all this time, but I just don’t think I can do it.”

An assignment that had stumped Phainon? Well, that piqued his interest. 

“Tell me about it.”

After a moment of hesitation, he complied with the request. “We were discussing post-graduation aspirations in the lecture today. I guess Anaxa just can’t wait to get rid of us, because he’s demanding an essay about our own future plans now.”

The future, huh? That was the impossible task that Phainon had yet to conquer? Somehow, though he didn’t exactly know why, that didn’t really surprise Mydei at all.

“Sometimes…when I’m really in a bind, I think about what you would do, Mydei. How would you tackle this insurmountable dilemma in a way that made everyone happy?”

What an unreasonable demand. No one could ever make a choice that satisfied everyone. Especially not an average university student who only wanted to graduate and find a decent job that suited their best interests. But the way Phainon looked to him as a support system clenched at his heart painfully. He couldn’t let him down now.

At Phainon's expectant, revering glance, Mydei took a breath and began to speak. “I don’t know about you, but my goals have always been set in stone. All my life, I have always regarded archival work as my ideal career. So…I’ve decided that I will be applying to the graduate school next year.”

Phainon seemed to stir at that. Reflexively, he shot forward to look Mydei dead in the eyes. “Really? That’s quite the impressive goal you’ve got there.”

“The Kremnos of days past may lie in ruins, but the spirit of our people will never be doused out. I want to preserve these fragments for future generations to come.” Mydei has long resolved to serve his community to his best abilities. This was the only path he had known in this life, and he would do his utmost to see it through to the end. Still, he was curious to know how the people closest to him saw it. “Do you think it suits me?”

Phainon scoffed. “Are you kidding? No one is more suited to this line of work than you. From the very first time we met, you made it clear that this was your passion. That’s exactly why I had to silence anyone that questioned you.”

“It’s a truly admirable goal to pursue. Of all your strengths, ‘tenacity’ is perhaps the one I find most admirable of all.” Phainon smiled wide, and the sun paled in comparison. “May your dreams always come true, Mydeimos. I’ll be there cheering you on each step of the way.”

And he had. He always had. So Mydei was once again resolved to see his chosen path through to the end.

“Phainon has always been by my side, just as he promised. So now it must be my turn to fulfill his wishes instead.”

Returning to the dense silence of his apartment was a sobering affair in its own right, but Mydei had better things to do than wallow. He ignored the golden keys on the counter glinting with mockery, opting to strip himself down to the nude and towel off his damp body instead. Now dressed in simple nightwear (no way was he going anywhere else today, not when his bed was actively luring him into its warm embrace), Mydei made his way into the office adjacent to his bedroom once more.

The towel slapped against his skin as he finished drying off his long and unruly locks, and slowly, the little virtual creature on his desktop opened its beady eyes. 

“You have a sleep mode now? I swear you didn’t do that before,” Mydei commented lightly, sitting down in the chair to examine his golden fairy-elf-thing up close. Its wings had started to flap in excitement, probably waiting for Mydei to power its beloved mouse back on. 

He did just that, and sure enough, the creature latched on like a bloodthirsty leech. Well, as long as it calmed down and stopped mass opening his password-protected work documents for fun, who was he to complain? As it turned out, even a computer virus that was prone to tantrums was decent company on lonely nights. 

He entertained the creature for a while longer, observing its jerky movements and dead eyes without a word. It watched him dutifully all the while, hugging its hostage tight. Mydei huffed out a tired laugh and dimmed the lights before treading out of the room to get some proper rest.

This time, he left the mouse on.

Chapter Text

When Mydei woke that same afternoon, his apartment was still cloaked in a layer of darkness. He had previously buried himself in a warm pocket between his sheets, but somewhere in the middle of his sleep cycle he had twisted himself out into the cold embrace of his room. He felt no more rested than he had earlier that morning, and his sinuses were all congested after prolonged exposure to the elements. The long shadows cast on the walls threatened to swallow him once again, dragging him back to the realm of dreams. It was only the sliver of light peering in through Mydei’s curtains that caught his eye, tugging him away from rest once more.

As any other person of the modern era would, he immediately rolled over to check his teleslate. As usual, a number of notifications—several messages from friends, a whole list of inquiries from his employees on GoldMail that he was definitely not dealing with now, monthly bank statements that he had no use for, etcetera—flooded the screen as soon as he pressed the power button. But none of those mattered at all when he finally saw what awaited him at the very bottom of the list. It was the oldest notification displayed there, received just after sunrise.

Missed Call

Phainon - 5:05 AM

There he was. Finally, he was returning to seek Mydei out once more. 

Phainon was coming back to him.

Without even thinking he instantly called back, letting the sensation of pure relief consume him instead. Of course he was still angry, frustrated beyond belief at both Phainon’s evasive tendencies as well as his own inability to breach through to him. He felt too much too soon after waking, and his mind had become a jumbled mess. 

But still. Still.

The line rang for a few painful moments and Mydei waited with bated breath. And then—

Click.

“Phainon.” Mydei felt as if the air had been knocked clean out of his lungs.

The other side of the line was quiet, a faint hum reverberating back with little else to go on. It must have been a fan running in the background, like the one in Phainon’s room that was always turned to the highest setting, just because he didn’t fare well with the heat. A moment passed, and then a few shuffling sounds overlapped, as if someone were rolling over in bed. Had he also slept in for once? Was his schedule also thrown completely off by this mess just as Mydei’s was? Did he also feel as if he could just reach out and feel that warmth of smooth skin against his own, as if they were in bed together, just close enough to touch as they always were before?

Again, he mumbled out, “Phainon. Are you there?”

Were you thinking of me? Have you been frustrated with this silence between us, too?

There were so many things Mydei wanted to say, but none of the words ever came out correctly. Words of encouragement became declarations of war, affirmations were discarded for stilted sighs, even the love he wished to seal into Phainon’s lips like a bruise faded before he could ever hope to speak them into existence. As usual, he would just wait for Phainon to say something first. That’s how it always was. Even if it shouldn’t have been.

So Mydei remained in that fragile bubble, so exhausted from chasing all the time yet still unable to remedy anything. He would have thought the line had gone dead if not for the subtle background noises still bleeding through from the other side. As time passed and the fan’s blades spun around and around, he felt that dizzying sensation in his head again. Maybe it would be better to just sleep it off after all.

But then, despite it all, a breath. Mydei’s eyelids fluttered as he pulled the teleslate nearer, soaking in each disturbance he could.

“Mydei,” Phainon’s greeting was gentle, just a whisper. Yet it was enough to wake him for good. “It’s…really been a while since I've heard your morning voice. Way to get a guy all worked up first thing in the morning.”

“Looks like someone’s back to their usual self.” Mydei’s response was as irritated as it was fond. How did this insufferable man who lived for getting under his skin always manage to make such a wreck out of his heart?

“Haha, what's that supposed to mean? I'm just happy to finally catch a break after these past few weeks. It's not that big of a deal.”

“We’ve hardly talked at all since this mess began. That is a big deal. I know you like to act clueless, but we both know the truth, Phainon.”

“...Do we have to do this now?”

So he was still running. Too bad Mydei had long grown tired of this routine. Whether Phainon was willing to cooperate or not, he was going to latch on and drag him back.

He gritted out, “Consider yourself lucky that I got to you first instead of Cyrene. You're steadily racking up enough grudges against you to last a lifetime.”

“Look, I'm really sorry about all of this. I never meant to make you all worry! I just—”

“You just what? Thought that pulling a disappearing act would suddenly make all of your friends stop caring about your wellbeing? Do you even hear yourself?” Mydei had officially had enough of the calm charade. He would never be indifferent to these things like so many people in this city were. Phainon understood that, he had to. But again—silence.

In his absence, Mydei continued, “You never want to talk. I don’t expect that to change overnight. But there will always be people behind you who care. No matter how stubborn you may be or how your insecurities warp your view, you cannot be blind to the world if you ever want to save it.”

“Save…the world…?” Phainon audibly swallowed, shifting in place like he had grown uncomfortable. “I’m no hero, Mydeimos. You know that better than anyone.”

“Then stop acting like one.”

“Mydei…”

This conversation was getting them absolutely nowhere. The consequences of having two stubborn people in a relationship, he supposed. They were rarely at odds when it truly mattered, so for things to escalate to this point… Surely an intervention would have to take place sooner or later. And if Phainon needed another day to digest his words, then so be it. Mydei had already become an expert in the art of waiting.

Even after chewing him out over the teleslate, Mydei could still manage that gentle tone reserved just for him. “Get some rest, Phainon. We'll see each other soon enough.”

He hung up before Phainon could start sniveling over the line. Mostly because Mydei wasn’t sure he could handle hearing it. His resolve had nearly wavered once already, and once was more than enough. 

He naturally gravitated towards his office in the aftermath of that stifling conversation. The door was ajar and only a small amount of light poured through, enough to see that the creature was once again dozing away. Strange. What exactly did a virus need an idle animation for? Unless it had ripped assets straight from one of Phainon’s games over the long years spent hiding in his hard drive. Mydei didn’t know the logistics of any of this, nor did he care enough to find out what these irrelevant details meant. Unless a deep-dive into computer science could solve all his problems, he wasn’t interested.

As Mydei sat at the desk, crossing his legs and slumping his cheek into his fist, something kept vaguely nagging at him. He gripped the mouse in his right hand and startled the small creature awake with a few gentle taps. It blinked slowly, as an actual living person would do upon waking, and then seemed to perk up once it realized who had disturbed its sleep.

“I guess you slept in too, huh.” He entertained the creature’s antics for another minute, allowing it to hold the mouse pointer before reclaiming it for his own use. It initially refused to let go, but upon realizing that Mydei could, in fact, click and drag it away like any other program file, it relented. It didn’t seem to like being controlled much.

Feeling somewhat satisfied with his minor victory, Mydei continued, “That wasn’t so hard, now was it? Just submit yourself to my commands and everything will work out between us. That’s how it should be between us—”

He cut himself off abruptly. In the middle of his casual taunting, the green light of his webcam had been switched on. He leaned closer to the screen, examining the built-in camera lens with furrowed brows. No background applications had been opened to his knowledge, but the situation still felt wrong. Was he being recorded now? It was one thing for a virus to go snooping through his files and personal information and whatnot, but now it seemed to be targeting his physical body as well.

“That wasn’t on before. You did this.” Mydei pointed an accusatory finger towards the lens. “Just how advanced is your programming? And why are you always so…glitchy?”

He tapped the screen pointedly, ignoring whatever smudge marks may or may not have appeared. The creature was watching, though its movements were also slower, more lethargic than before. It was just like when he opened too many tabs at once and tried running his GoldMail in the background; operating too many systems simultaneously caused the computer to slow. The creature clearly worked in the same way.

“Interesting.” He filed that piece of information away for a later date.

Since there was nothing to be done about being watched, Mydei decided to endure it and continue on as if nothing had happened. The creature could watch and listen to him all it wanted to, but he was still a functioning member of society with work to do.

First on the agenda was going over the material access forms that were submitted in the e-portal overnight. He was usually on top of his work and managed the requests system well enough that his employees wouldn’t come bothering him about missing documents and accumulated fee errors (or so he wished, but reality was never so kind).

Those who frequented the archives were either scholars or university students conducting research independently, and more often than not they busied themselves with the newer, easily digested materials. The special collections were less frequently populated and only advanced Kremnoan researchers tended to request access. Only a single person had browsed those antiquated texts within the past month, after all. It was a relatively slow time for foot traffic, given the changing of seasons and recent start of a new academic semester. 

After approving of the whopping three new requests, he then shifted his attention to the previously overlooked messages awaiting him on GoldMail.

> From [email protected], 09:05, Subject: RE:RE:RE:RE: Local files?

> From [email protected], 11:10, Subject: New Job Listing – UPDATED; (Company event req.!!!)

> From [email protected], 08:22, Subject: Processing app. finalized

Nothing unexpected, mostly the same technical issues that were always circulating around the system—help with cloud services, the social networking manager working on job listing to fill their recent runaway employee’s spot, another request to hold a social event to keep up morale in the workplace. He would have gone into autopilot mode usually when it came to these daily concerns. However, that final message managed to catch Mydei’s attention. He clicked on it, tensing as he read through its contents.

Dear Mr. Mydeimos,

As per Ms. Empousa’s previous messages, the processing request for a reclassification of ITEM #KL3700159 has been resolved as of 08:00 this morning. As per your revision of the anonymous request form, it now resides in the section LITERATURE – FICTION. This is the final update regarding this request.

Sincerely,

Chironome

KCCA Secretary

And suddenly everything fell into place. If memory served him right, ITEM #KL300159 was a novel by a controversial Kremnoan author who lived over half a century ago. Mydei himself had not entertained the thought of reading it, and he hardly would have remembered its existence at all if not for a conversation he happened to overhear several weeks ago, before this whole fiasco had even begun.

As he was doing the regular rounds in the evening, readjusting the temperature control gauges, reviewing the latest shipment reports and sorting through all the requested document boxes for the next week, a sudden, high-pitched shriek interrupted his peaceful flow. 

“—I’ve already told you multiple times that this isn’t what I wanted! You’re wasting everyone’s time by handing out inappropriate materials like this!”

“Miss Julia, if you would kindly lower your voice…”

Though he rarely interacted with guests himself, Mydei was curious about the ruckus reverberating through the halls. He peeked his head around the corner, his eyes landing on the fuming young scholar currently waving a book around madly in the archival coordinator’s face. Judging by his employee’s expression, said book was probably a priceless artifact from the special collections. Mydei clutched the doorframe to physically restrain himself from intervening. Nikador knows how Empousa controlled her temper under such scrutiny.

“Why? It’s not like anyone else is hanging around these dusty shelves anyway!” The lady huffed, pushing her hair away with a puff of air. “I’m running out of time on this project, and then this happens at this absolute worst time. I’m so, so doomed.”

“If you would just tell me what’s the matter, I can try my best to resolve the issue.”

Empousa calmly reached for the book, but the scholar yanked it out of reach and began flipping through the pages, pointing furiously at the tabbed pages that had offended her the most.

“I already told you—it’s this stupid book! When I requested a box full of historical legends, this is absolutely not what I had in mind!” She then slammed the cover closed and jabbed a finger at the classification sticker on the protective film. “Amphorean Legends? What a joke. This is just some dead geezer’s crappy delusions packed as a novel. He should’ve thrown himself into the Theosphere Lake sooner and spared the world of this nonsense!”

How heartless… Though not unexpected. This scholar clearly had no respect for their establishment at all. Still, the weary Empousa took it in stride.

“Would you mind informing me what exactly is the issue with this classification?”

The scholar narrowed her eyes, drawing nearer. She looked as if Empousa had spit on her. “It’s like categorizing the poems of Verginia under ‘Court Documents’ just because she happened to uphold the Imperator’s Law. If you cannot discern actual history from works of fiction, you have no place in any library!” 

“The protagonist is no hero! He might try to act like one, but everyone knows the truth. To consider this a ‘legend’ is a disgrace to the true heroes of Amphoreus’ past!”

Empousa handled the book delicately and filled out the form as the guest heckled her. And once it was complete, Mydei decided it was only fair to politely show Miss Julia the door after such a spirited display. That was basically the end of the matter; since that day, no one had accessed the special collections. Mydei still did his daily tasks, reorganizing when needed, but his employees were at least self-sufficient enough to handle most of the clerical work on their own. He hardly paid any attention to Empousa’s prior message requesting help with the reclassification system, deciding to just forward it to Chironome. 

The reclassification itself was still of no importance to him. But that word, “hero”... That was exactly what had been bothering him this whole time. Mydei had previously said it to Phainon, accusing him of the exact same thing—pretending to be a hero. It was a small lead. But a lead, nonetheless. 

He bypassed the portal and went straight to the administrative site to reserve the book. Then, he sent a message to Chironome requesting that she place it on his desk before he arrived at the archives that evening. 

“I’ll learn the truth in my own way. Just as I always have,” he promised the creature before setting out. 

The archives were always pretty desolate on Friday evenings. Most students in the holy city were more keen on getting drunk at whatever festival held in Phagousa’s name was currently taking place in the bathhouses than researching millennia-old documents from the wasteland known as Kremnos. Not that it bothered Mydei; the fewer guests that needed catering to, the more work he got done.

Chironome was at the service desk when he entered, and she waved hello before dutifully returning to her ledgers. The downside of having so few employees was that everyone needed to compensate for the unfulfilled roles around the center. She was primarily a secretary, but also worked in digitizing many of the untouched collections alongside Mydei. He considered himself a more “hands-on” director than most, and often filled any vacant position when needed. Anything to keep the center running smoothly.

His office was a small space tucked away from the main hub of the archives. It was quiet there, save for the ticking of a clock mounted up on the wall and the hum of electricity surging through the walls into the yellow lights blinking overhead. It wasn’t the best space, nor the most aesthetically pleasing. Not that Mydei particularly cared either way. The way he saw it, this world was only just surviving by its own will, sinking its fangs into sweet illusions of the past that were not yet strong enough to conceal the ruins underfoot.

The architecture of the modern day was a far cry from the timeless marble behemoths towering over Okhema’s landscape, but the city simply lacked the resources to reproduce the past in such elegant forms. Besides, with the IPC always lurking in the shadows, ready to prey upon those who reveal their vulnerabilities, Amphoreus’ leaders were quite wary of accepting foreign aid. So, a complete restoration was virtually impossible, and they could only adapt and move forward.

But if an artificial sun could burn bright enough to light humanity’s way forward, so could the small, flickering lamp in the corner of his office. 

It was bright enough to make out the cooling documents neatly aligned in a stack on his desk, as well as his assortment of writing utensils. And there it was, just as Chironome had promised: Origin of Primordial Chaos – A Novel of Divine Acclaim by Kryptos, Devout Acolyte to Kephale. A blue leather-bound book estimated to have been originally written in the 4412th year of the current era. Despite the rather rough handling it endured earlier that month, not a single scratch was left on it. Mydei paid the out-of-house conservators too well for his artifacts to show signs of wear.

He opened to the first page, and immediately suppressed the urge to groan.

“The thirteenth returns, and remains as the first.

Fire and light are the embodiment of sin. 

The visage lost, the blood lost, the soul lost… What is finally lost is the name.

Life is resurrected, perishes, and then returns once again in this primordial blaze.

The one who carries out the sacrifice is also part of the sacrificial offering.

Thus we will begin with the original sin.

To deliver the fire, we killed ourselves every time.”

— Words of Unknown Origin

It began with an epigraph from the “Golden Scapegoat’s Mutterings”, one of the oldest surviving collections from the Era Bellica that every history major had encountered at least once in their academic careers. Mydei himself was very familiar with the contents, so he could immediately tell that this Kyros had gone through the entire collection and cut and pasted everything down to a seven-line bastardized amalgamation of the original poems. What a great start this was off to.

Reading through, the novel’s premise was clearly an unusual take on the legends of old. Rather than featuring a group of Chrysos Heirs, the flame-chasing heroes were instead represented as demigod children of the titans who undertook a trial of divinity. Kyros held no faith in the prophecies of Janusopolis, citing past fabrications that shamed all children of Kephale. He only trusted in the historical records that survived from ancient times, and the fallen titan he held so dear.

The protagonist, Khaos, was born of Kephale atop Dawncloud. But the mystic Thirteenth Titan stripped him of his power and memories, casting him from the mountain’s summit to a humble village at the world’s edge. The following chapters described Khaos’ transformation from an innocent child to an empty shell once his hometown was consumed by the black tide, and then a competent leader of the Flame-Chase into a broken idol as he destroyed his own world.

An interesting concept, if not convoluted; the execution across the pages was in a similar state, judging by the footnotes overflowing with any and every reference known to man, from historical accounts to folk tales to the author’s own musings. Still, Mydei read all through the evening, until the archives closed for the night and he slipped the book into a protective carrying case for the commute back to his apartment. Each time he hit a red light or allowed a pedestrian to cross the street, he couldn’t help glancing over at it with a sense of longing.

Upon arriving home, Mydei holed himself up in his spare room, the one with the fewest distractions. He pored over each word with conviction, not letting a single phrase go to waste. And several hours later, he had arrived at the very last page of the (rather short) novel. It was on this page that he discovered the crux of the entire story.

The boy once called Khaos stood before the end of the world he had vowed to save.

“You are no child of Kephale! Our beloved Sky Father could never bear such a disgrace as you!” The ghosts of days past seemed to understand him better than anyone. Indeed, Khaos was no Deliverer. He was no hero. He was no paragon of love as Kephale had been. But they would all forget by the twilight hour’s ordain.

“Khaos, my kindest friend.” That Mene’s dying gasp was the first he ever felt. The sun carved himself from the moon’s shadow. Her body split and golden light flowed through his splintered veins. From his shell he hatched a winged God greater than any human, demigod or titan who stood in his way. Time was no more.

Now without name, he tread the long night in search of dawn’s pale light.

 

“Nameless One” That Scylla and Japetus had called him.

“Dux Liberatio” That Eunomia had called him.

“False Sun” That Triptolemus and Maia had called him.

“Shadowed Blade” That Phoebe and Cytherea had called him.

 

One by one, all the realms of this world fell silent in awe of his fury.

 

Ocean and Earth to monstrosity.

Law to an unreached dream.

Reason and Trickery to a blade.

Passage and Romance to flame.

 

And then, from ones he held so dear:

 

“Lord Erikepaios, you needn’t sacrifice yourself!” That Iris plummeted into a pool of boiling gold. The beast’s wings were melted away. Sky was no more. 

“Lord Erikepaios, oh why?” That Prosperina sank into a sea of wilted flowers. The dragon’s bones were dissolved into ash. Death was no more.

“Lord Erikepaios, you are no friend of mine!” That Phobos fell into a river of souls. The lion’s pelt was pierced from behind. Strife was no more.

 

The boy once called Khaos stood before the Thirteenth he had vowed to destroy.

“You are no child of Kephale. No titan could bear such hatred as you.” He spoke for his ears alone. Indeed, he was no Deliverer. He was no hero. He was Destruction.

And with Thirteen, became One.

And then it ended, just like that. Just as quiet as the old world was said to have been in its final moments. It left Mydei with a strange emptiness inside, a hole somewhere in his abdomen, just below his heart. As such a practical man, he knew it was just a novel; a dying fantasy concocted by a Kremnoan who denied his own heritage to worship a nonexistent god. The author may have seen it as Kephale’s will to spread this gospel—but even Kryptos himself acknowledged that his work was merely a novel and not a holy text to prostrate before.

Still. It felt right, in a way. Was that fallen hero described in the tale not the spitting image of his very own computer virus, the floating creature with porcelain skin cracking away to reveal a sea of molten gold? Was it not something also born of the titans’ wrath, a being that could hardly communicate after throwing itself into the flame? The similarities were too great to ignore. Mydei was convinced that, until proven otherwise, the creature must have been inspired by that very novel. That was the only explanation.

He laid the book gently into the case and retreated to his office once more. The creature, now a peculiar shade of dull yellow as opposed to its usual golden glow, was already listening. It must have anticipated his return. Or maybe he was reading too much into everything and this was just one big waste of time. Mydei was used to experiencing setbacks wherever he went, but not once did he despair and sit by idly while there was still a chance to enact change.

Mydei stood tall over the desk, palms flat on its surface as he leaned close to the screen, close enough for his hair to brush over the creature’s shattered form.

I want to see you for all that you are. Is that so strange? 

“Khaos,” he said. Demanded, more like. The creature didn’t blink. And then—

⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️: ⬛️N⬛️o⬛️⬛️⬛️Na⬛️m⬛️e⬛️

 

LordMydei: It’s yours if you want it

LordMydei: Not “δ_me13”

 

⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️: ⬛️⬛️⬛️P⬛️a⬛️st⬛️⬛️

⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️: ⬛️N⬛️o⬛️⬛️M⬛️or⬛️e⬛️⬛️⬛️

So it wasn’t an exact match to the novel. He was almost expecting that answer, though. And at least another truth had come to light through this interaction: the virus could respond to real-time audio prompts almost like a virtual assistant. Its AI must have been extremely well-programmed. Strange, given its purpose was to steal information. Were human voices counted in that?

He spoke again, a little muted this time. “I won’t force you then. If you want to be a nameless fairy or whatever, be my guest.”

The creature didn’t react again. And perhaps that would have been a complete dead end with nowhere else to go, the final match burnt to cinders in the cold. But something was still itching right at Mydei’s tongue. What could it be? He didn’t have anything left.

…Unless. 

A thought suddenly appeared in Mydei’s head. He had no idea where it came from, but it just made sense, in a way. Like his brain was connecting two virtually unrelated puzzle pieces and they somehow fit perfectly into place.

“How about…Khaslana?” he choked out, almost against his better judgment. It was another inexplicable reaction to an arbitrary phrase he had never once thought of before. But it was a telling one, especially due to the creature’s simultaneous reaction.

It seemed to twitch at once, just a little tremor in the wings. But then it spread, and soon enough its whole body seized up into an uncontrollable rippling of dark splotches.

He had inadvertently triggered another tantrum—though this one was far more reminiscent of an episode of panicking than rage. Could a virus simulate such human emotions to a perfect degree without much prompting? And moreover, were there rehabilitation programs available for this sort of thing? Mydei didn’t think there were any therapists for computer programs out there, but maybe if he could just get into its systems and find a mod that worked…

In this midst of his disjointed rumination, the creature seemed to calm at once, as if taken by a bout of solace in between the suffering.

⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️: ⬛️Yo⬛️u⬛️⬛️

⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️: ⬛️⬛️Me⬛️mor⬛️y?⬛️

 

LordMydei: Memory? Storage space?

LordMydei: Maybe the command wasn’t clear

LordMydei: Khaslana. Your name.

 

⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️: ⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️!!!

⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️: ⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️!!!

⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️: ⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️!!!

⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️: ⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️!!!

⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️: ⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️!!!

“I don’t know what I did, but…” Mydei furrowed his brows as the creature bobbed up and down with a burst of energy. He hadn’t seen it so active in quite a while. “Clearly that name means something. It has to.”

LordMydei: Khaslana, speak plainly.

 

⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️: ⬛️⬛️T⬛️r⬛️y⬛️⬛️b⬛️ut⬛️⬛️⬛️

⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️: ⬛️F⬛️i⬛️re⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️

So there was some kind of existing firewall preventing the creature from exercising full autonomy. Interesting. He was planning to see just how efficient its voice recognition was, perhaps acting more like the digital assistant on his teleslate that was more equipped to handle advanced tasks. Bubbles the Chimera was pretty rudimentary as far as desktop assistants went, only finding a use when it came to composing messages or locating documents on his computer. He didn’t even have a voice recognition feature. Of course, Mydei would never prefer a virus to his loyal companion. He was just curious.

He spent the rest of the night poking around at Khaslana and trying to dish out different task commands. It seemed to slow as time progressed, however, so Mydei decided to let the dozing little virus sleep in peace, while he attempted to do the same.

But at the strike of midnight, right as Mydei was beginning to sink his head into his pillow and close his eyes, his teleslate began buzzing from over on his nightstand. He laid still for a second, silently asking the titans for patience, before sitting up once more to see just who was disturbing him at this late hour.

Ha, as if there were ever any doubt. 

Phainon: I’m sorry

Phainon: I never wanted to hurt you and everyone else, Mydei. But it was wrong of me to dismiss all of your concerns.

Phainon: I won’t let this happen again.

Phainon: You don’t need to reply, just know that I do want to talk things through

Phainon: So let me know when the time is right, and I’ll be there

“How absurd.” Phainon’s eye-rolling antics were nothing new, but he had reached a new level of irritating since making the decision to test out the whole runaway pet routine. He really was lucky that it was Mydei who had to deal with him. Cyrene and Hyacine were going to have a field day when he finally came crawling back home.

Mydei: No need for all the dramatics

Mydei: We’ll talk tomorrow

 

Phainon: Are you sure? That’s sooner than anticipated

 

Mydei: Yes.

Mydei: Now stop being so weird

Mydei: I liked you better when you were annoying me to death

 

Phainon: Haha really??

Phainon: (ᵔ.ᵔ)

Mydei could almost hear his relieved laugh. It made his bedroom feel less suffocatingly lonely. If his dreams were filled with nothing but Phainon again, at least they would be sweet ones this time.

Since making the decision to cohabitate his own computer with the golden fairy virus, Mydei had, regrettably, grown used to its antics.

Khaslana—he had begrudgingly started calling his computer virus by name—disliked being shut down. Immensely. Nothing unusual for a virus that fed off system data, but it was the creature’s reaction that most bothered Mydei. If he so much as hovered his mouse over the POWER OFF button, it would enter what he had dubbed “Self-Destruct Mode” and begin glitching violently in much the same way as Phainon’s possessed character sprite once had. Mydei, for all his efforts, had stopped trying to figure out the purpose of its programming and decided to just take it all in stride.

Was it impractical? The whole situation was from the beginning. Anyone else would’ve hurried over to the local appliances store and begged them to save their computer. But there he was, keeping Khaslana cooped up in his computer like a golden baby chick under an incubator. The goal was still to locate the source of whatever had infected Phainon’s computer, of course. That had never changed. But who could’ve expected this outcome? He’d certainly never entertained the idea of keeping a piece of malware as a pet.

Oh well. Despite everything, Mydei had to admit that for a computer virus most definitely carting a spyware program, his little fairy friend was almost endearing.

⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️: ⬛️⬛️C⬛️⬛️a⬛️⬛️⬛️n⬛️t⬛️

⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️: ⬛️T⬛️o⬛️u⬛️⬛️ch⬛️⬛️⬛️

Mydei, deciding to play philanthropist for his seemingly touch-starved computer virus, rolled the mouse over its little body until the pointer turned into a hand icon. The creature reached out as always, almost desperate to latch on.

“Here, you can have it as long as I’m not busy.”

⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️: ⬛️⬛️Hold⬛️⬛️⬛️

“You even managed a full word this time. Congratulations.” Mydei ran a hand through his unruly mane and leaned back in his chair. “Somehow I’ve ended up with two clingy ones who are always searching for attention.” 

The more time passed, the greater the similarities between Phainon and the creature appeared. Or maybe that was just his loneliness talking. Was he searching for loose threads that didn’t really exist out of desperation? Maybe. In truth, there were only superficial overlaps connecting Phainon and the creature through a character from a highly dubious 500 year old novel.

So what if Phainon and Khaos both embodied tragic heroism and had a strong, possessive edge? So what if Khaslana bore the same scathing, golden wounds as Khaos? There wasn’t much else to go on as a collective, only superficial qualities that incited confirmation bias. 

But in a way, wasn’t it all connected somehow? Bypassing circumstantial evidence, it was a fact that the virus had begun as Phainon’s problem alone. Weeks of futile research on the World Wound Web had shown that it was either an incredibly niche program originating from some untouchable corner of invisible darknets, or it was already living in Phainon’s computer when he first got it in his childhood. Since Khaslana had only decided to show itself now, there was no real way to verify the truth.

Secondly, it had to be said that Khaslana didn’t begin as the creature it was now. The first time it visibly manifested onscreen, it had taken the form of Kephale—named after the very same titan that Khaos represented. That couldn’t have been a coincidence. 

It was hard to tell with how pixelated the creature was, not to mention how mangled its body had become, but from certain angles—maybe squinting or closing an eye and leaning close enough to brush his nose against the screen—it may have resembled Phainon. Just a smidge. 

Not that Khaslana was a replacement for him, not in the slightest. While Phainon was a man full of smiles and sunshine akin to the breath of life itself, this creature was just composed of data. It could hardly communicate, much less follow its own programming. There was a chance its behavior was just mimicking Phainon’s to begin with. That could be what Mydei saw in it all along—just an echo of sentience that never belonged to it in the first place.

But thinking back to Origin of Primordial Chaos now, one thought replayed in his mind: “When one appeared, the other was cast into the fire. A vicious cycle of sacrifice was all he knew.” That was also true to reality, wasn’t it? In Phainon’s absence, the creature had found Mydei. In the absence of answers, Khaos found him too.

Now that Phainon was finally coming back to him, what would happen next?

Consequences be damned, Mydei was desperate to see him again, to confirm that he was real. Being left alone in the dark for so long with a cheap imitation of Phainon onscreen wasn’t enough anymore. He needed to feel the subtle warmth of his skin instead of a monitor, hear that boyish laugh without the crackles of a faulty teleslate connection interrupting them, look deep into his azure gaze and say It’s you, isn’t it?

The message on GoldMail arrived rather unexpectedly at the Lucid Hour’s first quint. Rather than another set of complaints and service requests from his employees, however, Mydei had received an update from the Trash King Quest Online customer support team. Strange. He hadn’t contacted them for over a week, didn’t even bother to follow up with a half-hearted “thanks.” after the last failed intervention. No way they were actually putting any effort into his requests.

Dear LordMydei600,

The Trash King Quest Online team has received your previous assistance forms regarding user DawnMaker496. 

After careful review, we have determined that a systemwide error automatically flagged the active user who interacted with the following non-interactive virtual items in the map location Dawncloud: DAWN DEVICE. Illegal references have been reset and no future error reports are expected regarding this issue.

The suspension of user DawnMaker496 has been deemed unlawful by fault of map irregularities and access to this account has been restored. More information regarding account suspension overturns can be found here.

Please contact us at [email protected] if you have any more questions.

Thank you,

Trash King Quest Online Customer Support

“Systemwide error? Illegal references?” Mydei squinted at the screen. There was no denying that Khaslana had corrupted the character sprite’s core data, leading to errors exclusively on Phainon’s end that resulted in a suspension. But now the support team was claiming they were the ones at fault? Yeah, right. What kind of a one-in-a-million chance would that be? They clearly didn’t know what they were doing at all.

He sighed and leaned back in his chair, ignoring the consecutive creaks from both the chair and his back. His mother always said he was born not just with her beauty but impeccable posture as well, but that did nothing for the ache he constantly felt beneath his skin. Such was the life of an office worker, he supposed.

“Whatever. I should just be glad that Phainon’s account was restored. That’s what I’ve been after since the beginning.”

This was the perfect opportunity, after all.

No time like the present for a long overdue reunion.

Mydei: Come over ASAP

 

Phainon: Oh?

Phainon: Usually you send me a heartfelt “Good morning❤️” message first. I’m a little disappointed…

Phainon: But if you want to skip to the good stuff then I’m fine with that too!

 

Mydei: I have no idea what kind of nonsense you’re talking about now but whatever.

Mydei: There are a few things we need to discuss

 

Phainon: Are there really though?

 

Mydei: Don’t start.

Mydei: Look, something else happened after your TKQ character was resurrected.

 

Phainon: Is that really important right now?

Phainon: I mean, talking like we’re in a horror movie like this kind of kills the mood

 

Mydei: It’s important. Come quickly.

 

Phainon: For you? Always!

Phainon: ¬‿¬

 

Mydei: ?

The twenty-minute wait for him to come over was almost more excruciating than the past several weeks had been. He couldn’t keep his eyes off the clock, slowly counting the seconds as his hands tensed around the clunky armrests on his chair. It wasn’t often that he got like this. 

Despite the fact that meeting Phainon again was Mydei’s greatest desire, his body seemed to fear it just as equally. A complete nonsense reaction, feeling such soul-crushing anxiety over meeting his boyfriend of five whole years. They would be fine. They always were, no matter how tight money got for Phainon, how many sleepless nights Mydei spent on graduate school assignments, how many job rejections they’d both been faced with or the countless other ways fate decided to mess with them.

Mydei already scolded him anyway. It was about time they had a proper heart-to-heart.

At just past nine in the morning, Mydei heard a frazzled jumbling of keys and the lock on his front door give way. He inhaled sharply, trying his best to appear casual as Phainon’s sneakers squeaked on the tile floor. 

It’s just Phainon, his mind supplied unhelpfully. That wasn’t right, though. It was never just Phainon. As nonchalant as Mydei may have appeared outwardly, his heart pounded inside with overwhelming force. 

Phainon entered the office carrying a latte from their favorite café and the scent of fresh bread with him. He wore a wide smile as he met Mydei’s eyes, crinkling his own as he drew near. Mydei had to physically restrain himself from shooting up out of his chair and tackling the other man to the ground.

“Good morning, Mydei!” Phainon exclaimed, awful cheery for an early morning. He stopped between Mydei’s thighs, practically glowing as he leaned in for a hug. And how could Mydei refuse? Just seeing him was everything he wanted and more.

Phainon always gave the best hugs. His embrace was just as warm as Mydei remembered, firm yet snug enough to melt into completely. It was tempting to pin him in place and refuse to let go until he groveled on his knees for forgiveness. But Phainon pulled away uncharacteristically soon, leaving a searing kiss upon Mydei’s pulse before sipping from his cup with an innocent grin.

Mydei, flustered enough to blush up to the tips of his ears, swallowed harshly and pretended not to be affected.

“What a sight for sore eyes you are. To think I would’ve missed out on seeing you today if I hadn’t quit my job.” Phainon laughed to himself, eyeing Mydei’s shifting form closely over the rim of his cup. “Though I must say, you don’t normally wear so many layers. I can only picture your conspicuous body in my mind.”

Well. Ignoring the lechery spilling from his tongue, he wasn’t exactly wrong.

“That’s because you're wearing my shirt.”

“Am I?” Phainon mimed inspecting his shirt, as if he couldn’t tell based on the cropped cut alone. He never wore that style even when they were alone. “Huh, You must have left it the last time you stayed over. It still smells like your fancy date night cologne.”

Judging by the pleased smirk growing on his lips, Phainon was clearly referring to the last time Mydei pushed him into his mattress and brought him to the Nether Realm and back. Most of that night was a blur by now for both of them. It made sense though. Mydei’s morning routine demanded a high-intensity run before breakfast, so leaving his shirts behind once in a while was inevitable. He didn’t know that Phainon wore them, however. Or that he didn’t even bother to wash them. 

Mydei, already sitting stiffly with his fists clenched, now had to clear his throat. “It’s good you were able to get here quickly. I have something to show you.”

That seemed to further pique Phainon’s interest in the exact wrong direction. “Oh?” He set his coffee cup down as he leaned back against the desk, sizing Mydei up with his wandering eyes. With his face all ruddy and pupils blown wider than the Dawn Device, he looked like a man ready to be ravaged. “I’m all ready for you. Show me.”

This conversation was clearly doomed from the moment he sent that message earlier. Not that Mydei could exactly blame Phainon for reaching this level of desperation, seeing as how three entire weeks had passed since they last met up. It was just the wrong time and place for any form of intimacy to blossom between them.

And apparently his clever little computer virus agreed, because the instant Phainon leaned back and put pressure on the keyboard, about a hundred different popup windows exploded on the screen with a deafening cacophony of error sound effects. They both startled, Phainon throwing himself forward off the desk as he grabbed his ears in pain. After the initial shock, he looked at Mydei with a completely spooked expression. 

“What was that?!”

“That,” Mydei began with an exasperated sigh, “was exactly what I tried to warn you about. You were just too busy with your poor attempts at seduction.”

“Poor? Come on, Mydei. You can’t possibly tell me you weren’t at least a little bit—”

“Look. It’s here.”

Mydei pointed back towards the monitor which was no longer flooded with error reports. Instead, what Phainon found waiting for him there was the intense stare of one highly unamused Khaslana surrounded by a condensed wall of red and black visual glitches. 

The two blinked at each other wordlessly for a while, Phainon wearing the same expression Mydei had worn the first time he encountered the creature. At least they could share in their less-than-graceful moments together. 

“Mydei.”

“Yes?”

“What…is that?” Phainon’s voice was also shaky. Had that disturbance really rattled him so badly? 

Mydei huffed. “Why are you asking me? It’s your fault this thing showed up.” His tone was assertive, hardened by all that he had experienced with the creature thus far. But Phainon just wore a clueless expression, like he had nothing to do with this situation at all. How irritating.

“Your Trash King Quest account. The possessed character sprite must’ve had some kind of virus attached to it. That’s why this,” he pointed at the sprite hovering on the screen, “small elf thing has been stuck on my monitor ever since.”

Khaslana still looked miffed, especially under Phainon’s intense scrutiny. He jabbed a finger at the monitor, as if he could reach through and pluck at the sprite’s feathers. The screen cast a rippling effect where he touched, and only a faint smear remained afterwards. Good thing Mydei had recently purchased a new bottle of screen cleaner. He’d been a lot more tactile since his tiny friend had appeared.

Phainon cast a dubious look in his direction. “Okay. First of all, an elf? Really? Looks more like an angel to me. Secondly, Mydeimos, why did you even message the account to begin with? That’s really risky.”

Of course that was his first concern. Not the fact that his own computer had been contaminated and his personal information was put at risk for over two decades, not at all. He was only worried about Mydei’s wellbeing. Typical.

“Someone had to do something. Better me than the others, anyway.”

“Why do you always have to—”

Khaslana interrupted him with another loud prompt appearing and Phainon winced. While Phainon had flipped the script to start chewing Mydei out instead (what a hypocrite he was), the creature had finally summoned that twisted sword back to its side and assumed an offensive stance. Mydei wasn’t quite sure what exactly it was planning to do to them from the other side of the screen, but at least poor Bubbles had finally been put out of his misery.

Phainon’s hands flew to his hips, defiant and ready to hand out a stern warning. Apparently he decided to take an attitude with Mydei today. He nodded sagely, puffing out his chest, “Even your little buddy agrees with me.”

“Last time I checked it was your problem to begin with, HKS.” Mydei wouldn’t fall for his provocations. He was stronger than this. He would keep a level head and get to the heart of the matter before Phainon could squirm his way out of a proper conversation. “I’ve learned a lot about it over the past couple of weeks. Maybe you could shed some light on what led up to all of this.”

Realizing that Mydei was serious, Phainon averted his eyes and reached for his previously discarded cup. He took a sip nervously. “I’ll try my best. Just don’t get your hopes up.” 

Too late, you’re already here in my room and I’ve got my eyes set on you. Mydei would get the truth from him one way or another.

Phainon’s account was about what was expected of him. He fumbled with his words, trying to piece together a sloppy account of every strange anomaly he’d encountered throughout his life, and reached the crux of the matter without much flair: “So that’s how it started. My computer was always slow and I tried to fix it on my own, but nothing worked. The suspension of my TKQ account wasn’t shocking at all. I was just tired of trying only to fail.”

“So you decided to ignore the long-standing issue right in front of you and distracted yourself with work instead. How unsurprising.” Mydei was not impressed with his little story in the slightest. He shot a withering glare at Phainon, who was still trying his best to be as avoidant as possible, before deciding to just say screw it and pulled him in close by the hand.

Their eyes met again and Phainon shuddered with his entire body. Of course he would be just as unnerved as Mydei had been earlier. They may have fallen tragically out of sync recently, but at their core, they were still one and the same.

Mydei ran his thumb over Phainon’s rosy knuckles, smoothing out the tension built up beneath the skin. It was nice to feel another person’s touch after all these endless days of isolation. Living people weren’t as warm as machines, but the softness of human skin, the hitch in his breath and the heat crawling over his cheeks could never be recreated by an inanimate object.

He held Phainon’s gaze now, searching. And then Mydei smiled, unarmed for once. “It’s just me. Won’t you look at me?”

Phainon let out a deep exhale, trembling slightly, “It’s just you? That’s wrong. Don’t you know you’re everything?”

He sagged into Mydei’s side, bending far over to rest in the crook of his neck. Mydei didn’t complain even as Phainon gave a few sniffles beside his ear.

A little longer, he told himself as the invisible minutes ticked by. Let me hold onto you.

Coming down from that level of tension was slower than Mydei had anticipated, but he couldn’t complain when Phainon was finally at his side. He finally broke the silence after an uncertain amount of time had passed by clicking on Khaslana with the mouse. The creature had drifted off again once the attention had shifted away from the screen, but now it was alive and ready for some coddling. Really, quite similar to Phainon after all.

It made grabby hands and Mydei obliged without complaint. Phainon’s brow wrinkled in confusion, so he supplemented blandly, “It likes the mouse pointer.”

Phainon's face fell a bit at that. “So he does.”

“Why do you sound so bitter?”

“I'm not bitter.” Phainon shifted in place, leaning his cheek closer to Mydei’s. It was like he was also set on eliminating whatever space remained between them and latched on hard. Twiddling with Mydei’s fingers, he muttered darkly, “He probably wants to hold your hand.”

That earned him an incredulous laugh from Mydei. “You're just projecting now.”

“You wish,” he retorted lightly. His voice had grown dull all of a sudden, not a single word uttered with joy. He probably knew what was looming on the horizon now that the two of them were calm enough to talk without horrifically seizing up.

Taking both of his hands now, Mydei gave all his attention without reservation. “You will look at me this time. I won’t let you run away from me anymore.”

“I wasn’t—”

“You were running from all of us. We all saw it. It was only out of respect for your feelings that the others didn’t bother you.” Mydei’s voice remained level no matter how badly he wanted to counter Phainon’s adamant denial with a proper reality check. That kind of confrontation wouldn’t achieve anything but two sore throats and hearts that were even worse for wear. “But I know you better than that. I know that more than anything, you secretly wanted us to want you back.”

Phainon inhaled through his nose, already disconcerted but not yet ready to throw in the towel. His persistence was always a pain. “That’s…not a good explanation.”

“Then I’ll spell it out for you now. You met a roadblock that made you feel like you couldn't be of any use to us anymore. So you ran away to find more people in need of help. You worked yourself to the bone under the guise of saving yourself, but that’s just not true. You never cared about your own wellbeing at all. The only thing on your mind was finding a way to make yourself useful again.”

“That’s…really unfair, Mydeimos,” Phainon mumbled, his face crumpling into a pained grimace. 

“I don’t care. Just because you don’t want to hear it doesn’t mean it’s untrue.”

Phainon went quiet for a couple moments. He held his breath carefully, resisting the urge to lash out and say something he might regret. Restraint wasn’t his virtue, but he was too good to hurt the people he loved. That’s why it was so easy for Mydei to push him this far in the first place.

After a few tense beats, he clicked his tongue and spat, “So what if it’s true? I’m allowed to make my own decisions. If I decide that I want to help people and work all the time and run myself into the ground in the process, who’s going to stop me?”

Wasn’t that obvious already? Who else would wait outside for hours to pick Phainon up from his late-night shift at the local salad buffet? Who else would drop everything at a single word to cheer him up on the days where his depressing thoughts threatened to consume him?

Who else would spend the better half of a month looking for a way to restore his gaming account—having to deal with shitty technical support lines, a rogue computer virus that was basically sentient, and horrible customers at work with a conveniently terrible taste in novels—just to bring him back into their life? 

It’s so obvious to everyone else. So look at me, see how I’ve already given you my all without you even realizing.

Mydei sighed, “I will, you moron.”

“You really don’t need to concern yourself with me, Mydei. All this stuff about recovering my game account and all the messages and calls and waiting around for me…it’s too much.”

“So now I’m too much for you? Weren’t you the one who just said you were ‘all ready’ for me? What happened to the brazen Phainon I know so well?” Mydei cocked a defiant eyebrow his way and tried to hold it together when Phainon tried to mask his rapidly intensifying fluster. Oh, he was so easy.

He yelped, “That’s a different matter altogether! Why are you even bringing that up now?”

“Because you’re being ridiculous. Of course I’m going to worry about you, who do you take me for? Implying that I might actually let you go off on your own to die in a ditch is almost insulting. Do you really think that little of me? That little of yourself?”

“Sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” Phainon swallowed uncomfortably, setting his pride away to finally accept Mydei’s concern. It took him long enough. “It’s been a long month, Mydei. A really, really long month without you.”

“I know.” He felt it every time his eyes opened in the morning, every time he paced around his cold and stale apartment searching for something that had suddenly disappeared, every single time he closed his eyes and dreamed of the life they were supposed to have built together.  

Mydei squeezed his hands tighter. They had grown clammy in the midst of their arguing, but he refused to let go. He pulled Phainon closer, close enough for their noses to brush against one another. Phainon’s breath was warm on his cheeks. He badly wanted to kiss him. 

Unmasking his concern and blatant affection, he continued, “From now on, you better not forget to rely on me when you’re slipping. We all have our own problems, but it’s always better to face them together. Besides, you’d do the same for me, right?”

Phainon looked to be in a daze. His eyes were narrowed in on Mydei’s slightly-chapped lips, mentally running over each crevice he had long familiarized himself with throughout the years they spent together. He looked like he wanted to devour Mydei, to give him any and everything he wanted without second thought. Their breaths mixed together in an invisible cloud and Phainon gasped out, “Of course I would. I would do anything for you.”

Smugly, Mydei wet his lips and leaned impossibly closer. He was quickly falling into dangerous territory with his taunting. “Always so eager to please.” He just barely grazed his lips against Phainon’s cheek before pulling back again. Then, earnestly, he said, “You have a good heart, Phainon. I would hate to see it broken.”

He seemed to visibly buffer at that sentence. Mydei mentally pat himself on the back for still having the power to leave Phainon flushed and speechless after all these years. At least he’d never have to worry about losing their spark the way couples tended to do after marriage. Their relationship of only a few short years felt like an entire lifetime already, and nothing had changed at all between them. 

Phainon stuttered out, “What, I—” He paused abruptly to clear his throat, trying his best to retain some face even after falling flat on it several times. Even with his wide eyes, twitching grin and sweat-streaked hairline, he was still just as attractive and endearing as always in Mydei’s eyes. “Ahem. It won’t be broken though, because…”

He surged forward and gave Mydei his most pathetic, pleading expression. Those bright eyes of his had misted over into a display of pure subservience to his emotions. As much as Phainon was a decent actor, the truth behind his words were evident. This show was as close to a genuine unveiling of his heart as he could manage.

“Because it’s safe in your hands, right?” 

And as much as Mydei wanted to tease him for exhibiting such obvious desperation, he wouldn’t. Not when Phainon clearly needed to hear the truth and have all his cruelest doubts firmly dispelled once and for all.

He scoffed, “Do you even have to ask? Your heart is safe with me. Just as it’s been for all the years we’ve been together.”

“Huh.” Phainon froze on the spot, stopping halfway between that pitiful demeanor and genuine surprise. His pupils were still blown wide with that familiar tenderness, but the look on his face was unusual. It was as if he couldn’t believe the words spilling from Mydei’s mouth right then. As bad as he may have been with verbal affirmations, surely it wasn’t that shocking to have your partner of five years and counting express their love, right? Mydei could only prod him for an explanation.

“What’s with that expression? You look dumb.” 

Phainon swallowed again, then laughed and fell back into his arms. He wasn’t light in the slightest, all muscle after biking everywhere his entire life and regularly exercising with Mydei on their more lucid mornings. But he didn’t mind at all when that weight pressed down into him, even as his sharp elbows dug into Mydei’s side and his knee knocked against his own hard enough to bruise. It had been ages since this clingy dog had smothered him in affection.

Mydei could practically spot his tail wagging as Phainon murmured into his skin, “Nothing. I’m just…happy. I’m always happy to be with you, Mydeimos.”

“Someone’s pent up. Too bad I don’t have the energy to do anything today.”

“Aww.” Despite the whining tone, his words were too lazy to take seriously. Mydei figured he just needed some more time to accept that this unconditional devotion was his to have and keep forever. Mydei would gladly wait and remind him until he knew that it was real—that they were real. 

In the past, we only ever understood one another through our bodies. Now, though, I think words suit us better.

He pressed another kiss to Phainon’s temple and just held him as if they would never be parted again.

“...By the way, don’t think I forgot about you casually glossing over the fact that you quit your job.”

“Later, Mydei. I promise to tell you everything. Just…” Phainon sank deeper into his arms. His love was like a warm blanket against the cold current flowing through the rest of the apartment. Mydei gladly absorbed everything he was willing to give. “Let me have this for now.”

As they were busy being wrapped up in one another’s embrace, neither noticed the dim silhouette of Khaslana projected on the monitor behind them. The angelic creature was clutching to the mouse’s hand like a lifeline as it endured an onslaught of burning, glitchy waves. No matter how brutal it got, it would continue to resist. It had to.

Even if it was doomed to become nothing but coded lines of digital ash in the end, it would see this through to the end. That was the only way it had ever known.