"Well that's just great," Alesha spat as she looked at her Role screen. "Not just a battle royale, but a freaking gladiator arena??"
[If you think about it, it is rather fitting,] Rogork commented. [Any battle royale in the Storytelling Games would basically be gladiatorship anyway, so why not make it official?]
"Ugh," she groaned, rubbing her forehead. Seriously, though, it felt great to have a body she could control again. What's more, it was her own from before she had evolved, which ... felt amazing in a way she couldn't describe. Beyond that, the fact that she was granted proficiency in her provided weapon was a huge relief. The starting conditions of this Story were quite generous.
What she didn't understand was why.
Then something dawned on her: watching unskilled combatants fight to the death, while amusing at first, would just be boring if that's all it was. Did everyone get weapon proficiency, then? Or was this just part of choosing the Provided Weapon Upgrade Boon?
[Ding ding ding! Weeeeee have a winner!] Rogork cheered in a mock commentator's voice. [Everything you just guessed is correct.]
"Like you'd know," Alesha retorted.
[GASP! How DARE you doubt me!] The System's words were exaggerated, spoken sarcastically; it didn't actually sound offended.
At that moment, Alesha remembered something Cecilia had said: that they got along well. She'd told them that they seemed like siblings.
"Tsk," Alesha clicked her tongue, not wanting to acknowledge that there was any truth in the old earth teen's remarks. Sure, the System claimed it was born from her memories, and in a way that made them siblings; but in her eyes, that was only more reason to hate it. It had devoured the foundation of her hopes and dreams for the future, then remorselessly attempted to replace them with its own agenda.
In essence, all it wanted was to control her.
If it were in any way apologetic for what it had done in stealing her professional aspirations, or for any of the things it had done and made her do afterwards, then perhaps Alesha would feel inclined to try and forgive it. Yet, it neither acknowledged its wrongdoings nor sought to change. In all likelihood, its previous behavior (forcing impossible, evil, etc. quests on her) would only resume once the restrictions on it were removed via evolution. Assuming those restrictions could be lifted in the first place.
The Seed of Chaos System, therefore, deserved no forgiveness.
[Aw, so harsh!] Rogork teased. [I'm hurt, Alesha! I truly wish only the best for you.]
Alesha rolled her eyes and picked up the spear she'd been provided with, examining it. It was an elegant weapon, made entirely of a silvery-blue bone that felt cool to the touch. It was somehow metallic and not at the same time. Inside an envelope tied by its curved head, where it was embossed with draconic motifs, a note introduced the weapon.
***
Kalszoth the Ethereal, Mythic-Tier Fauchard.
Long ago, in an era before tyranny, I soared among the clouds as the personification of freedom. Primitive races mistook me for a god and offered me tribute. In return, I taught them metallurgy. However, as the centuries passed, their worship turned to fear and jealousy, and they sought to slay me. With the very metallurgy I taught them, they pursued my life.
Oh, how foolish of them! For I, a Mithril Dragon, could not be slain with mortal blades. Yet decade after decade, the relentless primitive races sought to overthrow me.
In the end, it was not metallurgy that took me, nor was it magic, nor time. I met my end at the claws of my mate, who could not bear the idea of another taking my life before she did. Did she resent me so much for my love? She used forbidden arts to turn me into a spear. When she was herself eventually slain, I fell into the hands of a hateful chaos demon. They, who are the antithesis of law and order, yet who are freer than the stars themselves.
Oh member of the primitive races, if you seek to form a pact with me, then prove your mettle through mortal combat.
***
[What a load of bull,] Rogork spat. [Personification of freedom? Mistaken for a god? Prove your mettle? Mithril Dragons are formidable, sure, but he's far too fond of himself. What an arrogant jerk.]
"As if you're any different," Alesha retorted. "You're always spouting nonsense about how great you are. You might become friends."
That said, Alesha felt a kinship with the spear. A dragon turned into a weapon by his mate? Brutal. Whether he was being arrogant or not, she couldn't help but feel sorry for him. His tale reminded her of how she'd been sword-ized by the King back in the Hero Summoning Story.
Raucous cheering could be heard up ahead. Was it time for her first match already?