There was a sound of a door unlocking.
«The Flawed Chevalier»
«They say that to don the mantle of a knight is to be chivalrous indeed. Yet, lo! Each man bears his blemish. Forsooth, I cannot summon to mind the names of all their faults anon—but this truth standeth firm: whether knight or knave, we are but mortals, ever bound to imperfection.»
Though the structure of the sentences were different, I was sure of it.
This was the first paragraph of Imperfect Knight.
A handful of memories that I had thought I'd forgotten came back to me in a rapid fashion.
My multiple beta readers that were also my college friends, and how this said line was written when I first received the laptop inside a mental ward.
The opening I recall started akin to this, but written in a more simpler way:
«They say to be a knight is to be chivalrous, but all of them have flaws. I cannot for the life of me name them all right now but one thing is certain: we are bound to be imperfect, knight or not.»
[The Narrator has rewritten the story]
But the memories I received did not include the ending as well, nor did I assume to recall the future rounds that might help me.
That was one of the few things I wished came back to me.
"Reverie," said a blond whose name I heard to be Richard. "What does it say?"
They already know of my attribute?
It was things like these that made me wonder who was the first person in Imperfect Knight.
Did they receive a system like this as well?
Richard was blond haired and strided with confidence. The Narrator may know me quite a bit, but what he did not know was that I would never be friends with someone of his stature, nor would someone like him take interest in me.
I responded, "I'm not sure."
"You said that your attribute helps with this."
I rolled my eyes, then feigned ignorance.
Richard seemed to be as low-tempered as me. If I hadn't gone through mental rehabilitation, I was sure I'd end up like him.
"Not for languages I don't know."
Richard looked annoyed at me.
But I was not about to spread information to those I don't know, much less a fictional character.
"What is this language here then?" he said erratically. "It's not Latin, that's for sure."
I put my fingers to my chin.
"Hermanic, I think."
Hermanic was the language of Germania in The Federation's Earth-667. And the writing was in Hermanic so it was no lie.
My thoughts continued to run amok.
I didn't notice it before when I was in The Federation tower considering the height of it was beyond my possible sight, but could this be a fragment of the 100th floor?
In Imperfect Knight, I recalled making the 100th floor as a mindbending place that is forever stuck in the past, but after Ben had reached it, a meteor plummeted on it. The coming of the meteor only affected the 100th floor, fortunately, but it made other adventurers who wanted to move on to the 100th unable to.
Therefore, the 100th floor was closed for three weeks.
And after three weeks, The Federation tower was transmigrated to Earth-73, my current earth.
"Reverie," said Richard with an emphasized diction. "Don't fuck with me—!"
He was held back by George, leaving me spotless with no bruise from whatever he was about to do. Beat me up? Just try, I thought, pressing through the knife inside my scrub.
"Uncle George!" he said with shock. "Didn't we agree to only bring Reverie since he had the [Linguist] attribute? Other than that, he's practically useless!"
"Hmm…"
This Narrator had changed the story, that much is true. But…
Rather than me being hurt by what he said, I was pleasantly nostalgic.
It's been decades since I've been called that. You know, useless.
Since I grew up in isolation, people often belittled me. Even during my time at the mental ward. Even up until college.
I still remember what one of my beta readers said before we became closer:
"You have to talk, though. Otherwise, all your thoughts and mind will become a cemetery, full of undone things that you will regret for eternity."
I responded:
"And that is why I don't need friends. I only need to write so my thoughts will be preserved, to be put on paper."
It was as though the Narrator only knew that part of my life.
Hey, I thought to nowhere in particular, what are the chances that my system isn't some sort of computerized machine, but rather, a person controlling on the other side?
That would be, truthfully, amusing.
After everything that happened, it wouldn't be a surprise if that were actually the truth.
Especially if it was someone like him.
Chris stepped forward. Then, he said:
"Let us not fight. Reverie is a part of our circle, and should not be segregated."
"He's only been with us since high school! He's only here since you felt bad for this friendless son of a bitch!"
The others gasped.
I wasn't particularly pissed off, since the fact I did not have friends was sort of true. Especially during my high school days. I was in fact called the quiet kid, back then. That didn't make me unable to communicate, though. Proof was Johnny and me spending lunch break together once in a while.
That also didn't mean I wasn't friends with my coworkers. Our interests simply did not align, so I never bothered to make friends with them. Most of them were girls who only indulged in gossip about the patients.
"Ricky—!"
That was exclaimed by Chris, interrupted by me with a pat on his shoulder.
"It's fine," I said, approaching Richard.
My feet tapped monotonously on the cobblestone path that followed and began at the ten meter door.
I dug into my scrub's pocket and grabbed a dagger, aiming it directly to Richard's face.
"I'm not here to kill you." Even if my actions said otherwise.