Chapter 11 – Tests & Trials (III)

Chapter 11

Tests & Trials (III)

Should I do it?

Should I actually do it?

No, no, no… this is clearly a test! After all, the boy isn’t actually a boy. He’s an old, scheming monster who’s probably lived for countless years. And he already seems to be thinking there’s something amiss with me, and if I do actually produce the art…

No, to begin with, I can’t produce it just yet. I don’t know how much a cloaking Martial Art would cost, but it would be far, far above the measly 15 points that I had. Phew. At least, for now, the moral quagmire disappeared.

… then again.

Maybe… it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world? I mean, he’s clearly scheming to figure out whether I can ‘procure’ things, but he went about it in a rather straightforward fashion. He doesn’t know that I know who he is, so he probably just thinks I’m a mildly peculiar little nobody with some faint luck.

Whether I agree or refuse won’t change how he views me much, as he’ll still probably think I just got some luck on my side. After all, it wasn’t as though I’d be procuring some Immortal Scriptures or anything, but the kind of Martial Arts that were barely above average for this tiny corner of the world.

Hmm.

Forget it.

There’s no point thinking about it for now. If I do scrape up some Creation Points, I’ll revisit it.

“Ha ha, you, oh you joker, disciple, ha ha…” I awkwardly extricated myself from the situation, leaving under his scrutinizing gaze.

First and foremost… I can’t keep living here. Though I did some minor cleanup on the day of my arrival, and I aired out the stench at least, it wasn’t enough. This place looked like a house of some crazy old dude who’d come out with a pitchfork if kids trespassed, screaming some weird, outdated curses like ‘I’ll tan your hide!’ or ‘Git, ‘fore I sic the dogs on ye!’, or ‘You little rapscallion, I’ll send you to kingdom come!’.

And, though I’m older, I don’t consider myself old. Not yet, anyway. I don’t like kids, true, and the sound of their high-pitched voices did occasionally boil my blood, but I have never yelled from a window at the kids in front of the apartment complex to stop screaming and driving their skateboards around! I thought it, yes, but I never said it! An important distinction, if you ask me.

Thus, I cannot continue living in this hellhole. Luckily, I do have some knowledge of restoration–I used to work summer jobs back when I was a kid, trying to earn enough money to buy games in the 90s, and a lot of those jobs included construction, as things are always being built and torn.

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

I once spent an entire summer roofing, and to this day I consider that summer a brief, but very infernal, glimpse of hell.