By the time we dragged him out of the forest, the storm had already weakened, only droplets left. The rain left a lot of undesirables behind... Except for maybe if you’re a farmer. Mud clinging to our boots, air thick enough to chew, yet the guy we caught didn’t say a word. Blindfolded, wrists bound, soaked to the bone. He stumbled when we pushed him onto the carriage bench across from me, the leather creaking under his weight. Hailie had logged off first, saying her time was up for the night. I told her I’d skip dinner, that I’d make sure this man got to where he needed to be. She gave me one of those worried looks as her body began to fade to a logout with a nod. It was quiet in the carriage except for the clatter of hooves and the driver cursing at puddles. The man didn’t struggle or even try to log out. He just sat there, breathing shallowly through the wet cloth that clung to his face. I kept my scythe propped upright between my knees, just in case. When we finally rolled up to the New Destiny hideout just underneath the mountain, the torches out front flickered orange through the fog. Two figures were already waiting, Olga and Pearl; the respective second and third in command of the New Destiny.. Olga stood tall, her unevenly chopped flame-red hair sticking to her neck. The fur cloak around her shoulders dripped rain, and the massive greatsword she dragged behind her left a furrow in the wet earth. Beside her, Pearl was composed and quiet, his bright blue hair perfectly framing his glasses even after the storm. He had that scholarly air, robes slightly damp but otherwise spotless, both of his hands were hidden in his robes. By the way... Hey, didn’t the guy said he was too busy to get involved with guild-management? Lying bastard... Well, being third-in-command was probably easier, I guess. We unloaded our silent guest and hauled him inside. Past the noisy common area of the tavern-shaped hideout despite the weird looks we were getting from the guild members. We moved through the bar at the other end as we reached a door to the back cellar... This was my second time being here, last time was just after the trial, I logged on to get some drinks and got curious. Orıginal content can be found at 𝔫𝔬𝔳𝔢𝔩~𝔣𝔦𝔯𝔢~𝔫𝔢𝔱 The place was dark, cold, and full of fermenting wine kegs as well as crates stacked to the ceiling. The smell of old wood and damp fruit filled the air as I shook my head awoken from the intensity of the atmosphere. We sat him in the far corner, hands tied in front of his stomach, and the blindfold were loosened just enough for him to barely see out of his peripheral vision. His silence was unnerving, usually, people started talking before you even asked questions, probably pleading, begging, or logging off and just quit the game altogether. Olga stepped forward first. She crouched down in front of him, her voice calm but firm. "Tell me who sent you," she began. "Why did you attack us in that dungeon? You were chanting mana, why? Who told you to? Did we owe you something? I can help settle your debts." "Kind sir..." She tried again, lowering her tone. "If you tell us the truth, I’ll make sure you’re protected. No one here wants to harm you and I’ll personally see to it you reach a safezone, just talk." The room filled with the sound of dripping rainwater from my cloak. Olga’s patience was wearing thin, I could tell from the way her jaw tightened, so, I glanced over at Pearl, who had his back against the walls, eyes shut, just listening very calmly. When he still refused to answer, I decided to take action. My metal boot connected with his face, he hit the ground hard, nothing cracked so no blood, yet. "Talk now, you shithead!" I roared as Olga turned over, very repulsed by my action, "You’re the reason my Hailie almost died! I chased you through the forest, through the goddamn storm, you think I won’t finish what you started?" Time to play bad cop, I thought as I grabbed his collar, shaking him as I yelled as loud as I can with my feminine-leaning voice. "Hell, log out right now, I dare you, I double dare you you ugly ass motherfucker. I’ll make sure you log back in to find spikes under your knees, pain waiting for you every single second until you delete your character and we’ll hunt you down again! You hear me?" He just stared at me, expressionless. "He’s mocking me," I muttered. Olga stepped forward and placed a hand on my shoulder, but Pearl had already taken a step between us. I raised my head up high to met eyes with the man, not expecting anything, maybe he’ll tell us to stop, or that he’ll try to solve this a more civilized way with democracy once more. Yet, we could never expect what followed. As he removed his glasses and hooked them onto his collar. "CJS69," he said quietly, eyes locking into mine, "May I borrow your scythe?" "...?" Hesitation was obviously in the air I blinked, gripping my scythe which was behind my back, "My... scythe? Why?" ... A second of silence. "Pearl..." Olga raised an eyebrow. "You sure you know how to use that thing?" "It would be not that different from any edge weapon," Pearl said. "As a matter of fact, proficiency is not the matter, considering that the subject in question is not an enemy that will attempt to retaliate as of now." Something in his voice made me hesitate. "Jesus, I’m fine with killing people but, if you’re going to do what I think you wanna do..." I said. Yet, he only looked at me with silence. So, I handed it over. Pearl took it carefully, one hand gripping the handle near the top, the other close to the blade’s edge, holding it diagonal from his body like an axe. He turned it over once, examining its weight. "Both of you," Pearl said, rolling up his sleeves, "wait outside." "No?" Olga frowned. "We’re not leaving you here alone." "Eolga, CJS69." He gave her a sharp look, cold enough to cut, "You won’t want to be here for this." A beat passed, Olga grumbled under her breath, then stepped aside, brushing past me as she went, so I followed. We were out of the door when I heard Olga’s muttering, almost whispering, half me to hear this, half not. "Lumberjacks hold axes like that for more downward force," she commented, "I won’t forgive Pearl if the guy’s executing someone in the cellar." The cellar door closed with a heavy thud. Outside, the muffled noises of the tavern seemed a world away. Whatever Pearl was doing in there wasn’t meant for the rest of us to hear. So I just stood there, dripping rainwater onto the wooden floor, staring at the door that separated us from the truth... And wondering what, exactly, counted as "questioning" in his vocabulary.