Author note: Sorry for not posting yesterday QAQ
I had a competition that made me only get home at 10 so I didn't even publish any drafts sob
Ah'Ming materialized in his hotel room with all the grace of a sack of potatoes being hurled through a window.
He landed face-first on the stupid carpet (the ugly, hexagonal, migraine-inducing carpet) and just lay there for a solid thirty seconds, processing his existence.
Then he screamed into the floor, thrashing like a kid at wallmart who was denied the new Revengers action figure.
"YOU STOLE MY REWARDS!"
He looked up resentfully, eyes squinted like a deranged cat.
The system panel flickered into view above his head, pixels arranged in what could only be described as smug satisfaction.
|System merely expedited broadcaster's transportation |A small processing fee was required
"A SMALL FEE?!" Ah'Ming rolled onto his back, glaring at the blue screen. "You literally said you were going to OVERDRAW my rewards! I SAW the code!"
|System has no idea what broadcaster is referring to
|Perhaps broadcaster is experiencing post-battle hallucinations
|System recommends rest :P.
"I'm going to--" Ah'Ming sat up, pointing an accusatory finger at the panel. "I'm going to find your hardware and unplug you."
|System is a distributed consciousness across multiple servers
|Good luck with that :)
The emoticon was the final straw.
Ah'Ming grabbed a pillow and hurled it at the panel. It passed straight through, of course, and hit the wall with a pathetic whump.
|System feels very threatened QAQ
|System is shaking in its metaphorical boots
|Perhaps broadcaster should try throwing more soft furnishings
"I HATE YOU!"
|The feeling is mutual <3
Ah'Ming flopped back onto the bed, arms spread wide in defeat. The ceiling stared down at him, as bland and unhelpful as everything else in this stupid resort.
"You know what the worst part is?" he muttered.
|System is certain broadcaster will tell us anyway
"The worst part is that I actually like you, you pixelated parasite."
The system went quiet for a moment. Then:
|...System supposes broadcaster is tolerable
|For a fleshbag
|With the IQ of room temperature water
"There it is." Ah'Ming couldn't help the small smile. He snickered. "There's my emotionally constipated AI."
|System is not emotionally constipated
|System simply has standards
|Unlike broadcaster, who befriends delivery shadows and rat merchants
"Haha and Aliya are GREAT, thank you very much."
|System rests its case
Ah'Ming was about to retort when his gauntlet buzzed. A message notification blinked on the holo-screen.
[Huipao]: WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN
[Huipao]: WE'VE BEEN TRYING TO REACH YOU
[Huipao]: BIANHENG SAYS YOUR PROFILE KEEPS GLITCHING
[Huipao]: ARE YOU DEAD
[Huipao]: IF YOU'RE DEAD CAN I HAVE YOUR HOTPOT STASH
Ah'Ming snorted and typed back:
[Ah'Ming]: Not dead. Was busy. Where are you guys?
The response was immediate:
[Huipao]: CAFETERIA. COME NOW. WE HAVE THINGS.
[Huipao]: IMPORTANT THINGS
[Huipao]: ALSO ZHAOYING WANTS TO DISSECT SOMETHING AND WE'RE SCARED
That... sounded about right.
Ah'Ming dragged himself off the bed, catching sight of himself in the bathroom mirror as he passed. He looked like he'd been through a paper shredder and then glued back together by a drunk kindergartener.
His hair was a mess, there were black stains all over his clothes (probably from the villager ichor), and somehow he had a paper cut on his cheek.
A paper cut.
From a boss fight.
"System, am I losing my touch?"
|Broadcaster never had 'touch' to begin with
"Rude."
He splashed some water on his face, ran his fingers through his hair in what he hoped was a vaguely presentable manner, and headed out.
The cafeteria was surprisingly busy for—he checked the time on his gauntlet—5:47 AM.
Apparently, a lot of players were early risers. Or, more likely, they'd just finished substories and were stress-eating.
Ah'Ming spotted the shadowblade guild (he'd finally settled on that name, even though he was 67% sure it was wrong) at a corner table, surrounded by what looked like a small mountain of... paper?
"Is that—"
"NEWSPAPER CLIPPINGS!" Huipao practically tackled him before he could finish the sentence. "So many newspaper clippings! Do you know what we found out?!"
"That you have a hoarding problem?"
"No! Well, yes, but—" Huipao grabbed his shoulders, eyes wide and manic. "The more newspaper clippings you have, the higher your evaluation grade! We did some trading after we messaged you, and—"
"We acquired forty-seven newspaper clippings," Bianheng cut in smoothly, gesturing to the pile. "Between the four of us, we've completed nineteen unique substories."
Zhaoying nodded, looking far too awake for this ungodly hour. "We figured you might want them. Since you seem weirdly invested in the main story."
Ah'Ming blinked. "You... you're just giving them to me?"
"Well, we can't submit them ourselves," Bianheng explained. "You're the one who started the main storyline. The system won't accept submissions from anyone else unless they were part of your... let's call it a quest party."
"But I don't have a quest party?"
"Exactly. Which means you're the only one who can turn them in." Huipao grinned. "So, technically, we're investing in your success! If you get a good evaluation, it reflects well on us as your temporary teammates!"
"That's... actually really nice of you guys?"
"Don't get mushy," Zhaoying warned, though her eyes crinkled with amusement. "We also expect you to buy us dinner when we get out of this instance."
"Deal."
Ah'Ming pulled out his own newspaper from his inventory ( which now significantly more filled out after merging with the book, thus also clearing out space in his inventory) and watched as Bianheng carefully handed over the guild's collection.
The moment the clippings touched his newspaper, they began to shimmer and merge, golden light spreading across the pages.
|Newspaper Clippings: 50/127 Complete
|Side/Sub-story clearance 39.3%
|Main Story Completion: 94%
|Evaluation Grade: Calculating...
"Fifty clippings," Ah'Ming breathed. "That's... that's a lot."
"It's actually insane," Huipao said. "Most people don't even get past twenty. The highest recorded completion in this instance is fifty-three."
"Then why—"
"Because it's not worth it." Bianheng's tone was matter-of-fact. "The substories get exponentially harder the more you complete. Diminishing returns. Most guilds cap out at twenty-five and call it a day. Plus, I think around 5 is a C grade, fifteen is a B, thirty is an A. Fifty is an S, but I don't think there are grades around that high. "
Ah'Ming frowned. "But you guys helped me get to fifty?"
"Yeah, well." Huipao rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "You're kind of... interesting? Plus, Bianheng said your clearance level is weird."
"My what?"
"Your clearance level," Bianheng repeated, studying him with sharp eyes. "Your system permissions. They're... higher than they should be for an E-rank broadcaster."
Ah'Ming's system panel flickered nervously.