Somber Laziness

The three of them regrouped in Geminus, the Astral Alloy still glowing faintly in Tanuki’s pack. His inventory finally became respectable. He was going to need every shard, every rare drop, every fragment of material gathered across worlds to prepare for what was to come.

Atlas leaned against the railing of the plaza, watching Tanuki scroll through his crafting menu. “So this is it, huh? All the grinding, all the near‑deaths, all the poison ticks and arrow storms… it all culminates now. When you finally get rare materials all for one weapon or piece of armor, it’s like all of those memories get stored in a compact receipt.”

NV crossed her arms, her gauntlet humming faintly as she studied him. “Don’t waste it. Legendary armor isn’t just gear. It’s a statement. Once you forge it, you’re not the same player anymore.”

Tanuki hesitated, his Tarot deck flickering at his side as if it sensed the weight of the decision. He selected the blueprint: Twin Daggers of the Eclipse. The system window shimmered, materials slotting into place; the Astral Alloy, Shard of Dawn, Venom‑tempered Steel, and the crystalline fragments they’d nearly died retrieving.

The forge interface lit up, and as he confirmed the craft, the air around them seemed to ripple. His daggers dissolved into light, reforging themselves in his hands. The blades emerged longer, sleeker, their edges glowing with a shifting spectrum of night and dawn. When he gripped them, the Tarot deck pulsed, syncing with the new weapons as though they had always been meant to exist together.

Then came the armor. Piece by piece, the materials fused into a set that shimmered with layered defenses and subtle, shifting patterns of light. The chestplate bore the faint outline of constellations, the gauntlets pulsed with energy, and the cloak trailed faint motes of starlight. When Tanuki equipped it, his silhouette seemed sharper, more defined, less like a survivor scraping by, and more like a champion stepping into his role.

Atlas let out a low whistle. “Damn. You look like you just walked out of the endgame trailer.”

NV’s eyes narrowed, but there was approval in her tone. “It looks oversized on you. But it’ll keep you alive when Arsenyx comes.”

Tanuki flexed his grip on the new daggers, feeling the weight settle into his hands. For the first time, he didn’t feel fragile. He didn’t feel like he was just running to keep up. He felt ready.

The three of them stood together in the heart of Geminus, the city lights gleaming off Tanuki’s new armor. The storm of Arsenyx loomed ahead, but now, for the first time, they had the strength to face it head‑on.

The three of them lingered in Luxiem longer than they had planned. After so many brutal worlds, the city felt almost unreal, its twin crystalline spires gleaming in the lavender dusk, the streets alive with chatter, trade, and the hum of portals. For once, they weren’t rushing to repair gear or stock up before the next descent. They had time. Not a lot, but enough.

Atlas slapped Tanuki on the shoulder, “Level 50. Can you believe it? I’m proud of you for coming this far, Tanuki.”
NV gave him a sidelong glance, sipping from a vendor’s steaming cup of spiced broth. “Took long enough. I guess we should go to Chalon de Trois later to celebrate.”

Tanuki trailed behind them, his Tarot deck flickering faintly at his side. He wasn’t used to the quiet pride swelling in his chest. “I didn’t think I’d make it this far.”

Atlas clapped him on the back, nearly making NV spill her broth. “You didn’t just make it, you carried your weight too. Don’t forget that.”

They wandered through the market, where holographic stalls overflowed with shimmering gear, rare mounts, and cosmetic skins. Atlas stopped at a weapon vendor, eyeing a massive two‑handed axe. “Think this would make me look more intimidating?” The price was so absurd that Atlas nearly choked.
NV closed Atlas’s agape jaw. “Neither of us have that money for that and you know it. Damn digital inflation."
“You mean your gambling habit?” Atlas corrected but NV was already walking away, pretending not to have heard him.

Tanuki drifted toward a quieter corner of the market, where a fortune‑teller NPC sat beneath a canopy of glowing cards. The NPC’s scripted line triggered: “The deck remembers you, traveler. The storm you carry is not yet done.” Tanuki froze, unsettled by how close it felt to Celeste’s words. He quickly turned away before Atlas could notice.

They entered Chalon de Trois, greeting Lyrica and sitting down at a booth to order. It was a special occasion, so they ordered sparkling cider. “Cheers to 50,” Atlas said as he raised his mug, NV tapped her mug against his, then Tanuki’s. “And to Tanuki’s untimely passing.”

Tanuki hesitated, then smiled faintly as he lifted his own. “To us.”

They drank, and for a while, the weight of shards and storms felt far away. Atlas told exaggerated stories of their fights, acting out his hammer swings in the middle of the cafe until NV had to drag him back to the table. NV, in turn, found herself drawn into a dice game with a group of strangers, her competitive streak flaring as she muttered calculations under her breath. Tanuki just watched, letting the warmth of the moment sink in.

When they finally stepped back into the night, the spires of Geminus glowed like twin beacons against the stars. The city hummed with life, but for the three of them, the world felt briefly still. They had reached level fifty. They had survived. And for the first time, they allowed themselves to believe they could keep going.