Book Six, Chapter 67: The Circus

“See, there it goes again!” Ramona exclaimed.

We stood in front of the flea market, which was the same place we had bought the painting that acted as an Omen for Stray Dawn. It was one of several destinations on our shopping trip.

We weren’t really trying to load up on trope items or spend our money; we just needed a break. Somehow, Kimberly always used her influence to push us in the direction of shopping. It was inspiring in a way. Carousel had broken us all one way or another, but it still hadn’t killed Kimberly’s favorite hobby.

“I see it,” I said as I tracked a flyer tumbling through the wind before it got stuck in the long hair of an elderly hippie woman who was working a booth at the flea market.

“Okay, now watch,” she said.

I did, as the woman casually grabbed the flyer, glanced at it, and then released it back into the wind.

“She’s a terrible hippie, just littering like that,” I said.

“Just wait for it,” Ramona insisted.

I did as I was told.

After a few minutes, Ramona got excited and pointed back toward the hippie woman.

I turned my head just in time to see a flyer, just like the previous one, tumble through the air and get tangled in the woman’s hair again. She released it back into the wild just as she had previously.

“It’s blowing in a circle,” she said, laughing.

“We have to do something,” I said. “To stop this cycle of littering.”

Looking like a fool, I was sure, I ran and caught up with the paper before it was too far gone, and after the woman let go of it, I grabbed it out of the air. It wasn’t an Omen or anything, so I felt safe.

It was just another flyer like those we had seen before: Low Top & Co. Present: The Red Chalk Circus.

In truth, they were all over the place—in trash cans, posted on fences next to signs that said Beware of Dog. Occasionally, NPCs would be holding them amongst other papers or folders. I saw them underneath windshield wipers on cars and being torn apart by lawn mowers.

This couldn’t be ignored for any longer.

Ramona and I walked down the aisles until we found Camden, who was in a group of players being led around by Lila because she was able to see Omens.

I held the flyer out toward him.

“Pass,” he said, as he read the text.

“Well, me too. You looked up the circus in the Atlas, right?” I asked.

He nodded casually as he stared around the flea market and rested his eyes on a birdcage hanging in the shade, which was filled with vampire bats, according to the Red Wallpaper.

“The circus is a normal feature. It has a bunch of dangerous Omens, though,” he said. “Nobody mapped it out. The general consensus is to stay away.”

“Yeah, I figured,” I said.

He had other things on his mind.

“After this shopping trip, we have to focus on getting all of the players at least into the thirties,” he said. “Pretty much everywhere is off-limits to me right now. It sure would be a load off my mind.”

“I know,” I said. “Isaac has a rescue trope that should help you level up.”

He nodded. “Not my favorite one,” he said, “but he does have one.”

We had a lot to get done, and all the while, we had to manage stress. It was harder when you were at a lower level. Things really did open up around level 40. Or at least they would if I weren’t the only person at that level.

“We’ll work on it,” I said.

“What I was thinking,” Camden added, “was that we could use your rescue trope, and you could use your Behind The Camera trope, and go with us.”

“That’s definitely possible,” I said.

“But you don’t like it,” he said.

“I didn’t say that. I just think we should explore all of our options, including grinding for rescue tropes of your own.”

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

Truthfully, I didn’t want to use my rescue trope in a storyline where I would not level up at all. I only had one available to me at the time, and if I used it, I wouldn’t get it back until I was at least Plot Armor 50.

I didn’t want to get caught around PA 40 and stop leveling. We had so far to go.

Maybe I was being selfish. I had to think about it. I remembered how scary it was being in Carousel at a low level. Heck, I was still at a low level in the scheme of things. There were Omens in this very flea market that could run us over like a truck, more of them than I could count.

“Excuse me,” Lila called out to us from the head of the group she was leading. “Riley?”

“Yep,” I responded.

She timidly walked back toward us, and the group she was leading followed her like little ducklings, afraid that they would run into one of the Omens accidentally. It was possible, but unlikely. Most of the Omens were pretty straightforward: you buy it, and you activate it intentionally.

But I understood their fear of accidentally activating one.

“Were you talking about the circus?” she asked.

“We were. You wanna go?” I asked.

She shuddered at the thought.

“No,” she said, “but there’s an Omen over there for a storyline in the circus.”

She pointed over to a stack of items on a table, one of which was a big roll of little orange tickets, the kind you might win in a carnival game or, more appropriately, the kind you might get in a raffle.