Chapter 964: Behind Ambition
This was actually happening.
Not some dream. Not a messed up make-believe conjured by some extremely bored God's imagination.
The humming whirr of Amanda's console pervaded through the silence. What kind of silence? I'm not sure. Awkwardness? Nervousness? Intrigue? Normal? Depending on who you ask, I suppose. It could have also been all four at once.
"So, umm," Amanda stepped back from the television, taking with her a controller from a pair she had perched on a stand, and sat back down right next to Dad. "Is there anything you want me to do exactly, or am I just…?"
"Show me anything you want," He told her, hunching forward the same way he does whenever a movie manages to snare his attention. "I just want to see."
See, he says that, and he probably did mean it like that, but of course, Amanda's obviously not going to be taking it like that.
In her head, 'anything' gets compressed to that 'one singular perfect thing' and every single ounce of brain power becomes dedicated to finding that extremely specific thing.
She hides it well, though; quietly tilting the thumbsticks, launching the game, her empty gaze transfixed to the screen as it slowly flashed through a bunch of logos, until…
"The Great Forest of Valenia?" Amanda suggested.
"Oh?" To the side, Mom lowered the rims of her drink from her lips, her brows raised high. "The forest hasn't been destroyed yet?"
"It isn't," Amanda said, quickly navigating past the menu and scrolling down a list of her saves. "Not in this playthrough. It's set in the early-game. You still haven't—I—I mean… it… it hasn't burned down yet."
"Perfect," Dad grunted. Show me."
I couldn't help but notice how minuscule that scrollbar in her save list was. Rarely plays, she says. Does she even know what that word means?
Amanda shot me a quick glance before going on to select the save file, and from the expression on her face, I could tell she was wondering the same thing I was too.
What the hell was even happening anymore?
After a brief loading screen transition with a tip reminding us not to squander our potions, we were dropped into the wonderful, mythical world of Asteria, and… and uh… huh…
"Is that me?" Dad asked, flicking a quick finger toward the character in the center of the screen.
"Yeah, you," Amanda answered, her voice in an unusually high pitch. "S-Supposed to be, anyway."
He nodded his head in acknowledgment, and acceptance, and asked only one more question. A simple and reasonable one at that.
"Why am I wearing only underwear?"
There he was, the Hero of the Realm, standing in a vast autumn field beneath a dusk-covered sky. The distant sunset glimmering in the outline of his beefy muscles, totally alright with the fact that he was sent off to battle with the greatest evil in existence wearing nothing but a loincloth around his hips.
I didn't know whether to laugh or throw myself down a flight of stairs and hope I hit my head hard enough to time skip all the way to the next day. But knowing my luck, I'd probably throw myself all the way down to the next life.
"I-It makes you—uh, I mean it makes the character run longer, that's why, you see?" Amanda blubbered hastily, her face glowing hotter than the inside of her kitchen oven right at the moment. "Less armor, less stamina consumption, faster recovery—it's good for speedrunning. I was speedrunning. I-I'll put some clothes on for you, hold on."
"No, keep it, keep it," Mom insisted, scooching closer forward. "I don't mind it."
"He doesn't look like me," Dad remarked in the brief second Amanda closed out of the equipment menu. "My hair isn't blonde. He's younger too."
"Oh, but that figure is definitely yours though. As true to life as it gets," Mom noted, meeting his eyes with a leer. "I wonder if they got you just right behind that cloth too?"
I could puke. Like, I'm not even joking.
"Anyway, The Great Forest," Amanda chimed up, cutting between them, snapping the left thumbstick forward with a click and breaking her character into a hasty sprint. "It should be close by here somewhere."
It might as well have been just another one of her livestreams. If I pretended that this was exactly that maybe it wouldn't seem as surreal. There have been small mentions, remarks in passing—hell, even an entire exorcism taking in place in our barn—but this was probably the closest I've seen my parents' past and present intertwine.
"The terrain's the same," Dad said, his gaze completely transfixed by all the moving lights and colors on the screen. "I remember passing that mound. It's here too."
Mom swayed herself to the right, slanting her gaze over to where I was standing, and spoke in a low voice, "Asteria, hm? So this is the game Grieven had helped bring to life. I'll admit, it's fascinating. Almost like flipping through a photo album in a way."
My insides went and nearly tripped over a little ditch upon hearing that name again. It's been a while since I had to think about Jay. I especially didn't expect to be hearing about him now of all times.
"Come to think of it, his father was a Chronicler, wasn't he?" She said in a hush, like it was gossip, a playful secret. "It is a Chronicler's duty to archive and preserve every information of Kronocia's history and existence. Seeing this, I'm sure his father would be overjoyed to know his son has done his job in the best way possible. Even if that wasn't his actual intention."
"Yeah, I guess," I muttered, not knowing what else to say to that.
"Speaking of which," Mom trailed on. "Have you been hearing anything lately?"
For once, she sounded less than playful. Could even accuse her of being worried if not for how half-hearted she phrased it.
"No, nothing," I answered. "And I'm crossing my fingers that it stays that way."
"Nothing," she repeated, smirking a little as she brought her tea to her lips. "Nothing, as in, nothing at all? Or nothing as far as you know? Which is it?"
I didn't like the way she phrased that either.
"Irene's been keeping an eye out, she's constantly searching, and I trust her," I said. "She's heard nothing either."
Mom smacked her lips, enjoying the warmth of her drink. "You mean as far as she knows."
"Okay, now I know you're doing this on purpose," I glanced down at her. "Do you know something? Or are you just trying to keep me up at night?"
"No, nothing," Mom simply said, and when I continued to keep my eye on her, she doubled down on her answer. "Really, dear. I wouldn't beat around the bush when it comes to your or your sister's safety. I know nothing. Honest."
"So why even bring him up at all?" I asked.
"What? I'm not allowed to talk about him?"
"Time and place—ever heard of it?"
"Look at the TV, dear, what do you see?" Mom said, nudging her head at the screen. "Me, I see years of passion, ambition, and determination all put towards this mysterious grand plan of his."
I followed her gaze, watching as Amanda brute-force my Dad's digital self into continuously jumping trying to scale up a steep mountainous incline, and try as might, I saw nothing of Jay's input to appreciate.
"His whole after Kronocia dedicated to this. Refusing to let go. Or move on. Instead, he did this. Whatever this is. Not out of grief, or of love, I don't think. Or else he would simply have done this and left it as is. As a memento, a tribute. And it would have been a greater honor than anything the Divines have ever blessed down upon their worshippers."
"Are you… praising him?" I asked.
"If he had stopped there, then I wouldn't be," Mom said. "But instead, he conjured Blight to pour down on the world, fragmented a piece of his soul, and forced it into another. Attempted to take over me, nearly succeeded in taking over you. And just who knows what else he's been up to lately?"
"And yet you're praising him," I pointed out again.
"I know hate. I know bitterness. And as well as all the great, terrible things you can do when you just have enough of the two," she said, casually rippling her drink with a teaspoon. "Passion, ambition, determination. I know exactly what it's like to have that kind of drive, once upon a time. And given time, who knows? Maybe Grieven would know much better about it than I do."
Mom turned her gaze toward me again, hiding a sweet unassuming smile behind the rims of her drink.
"And so from one artisan of hate to another," she said. "Is it really so wrong of me for wanting to offer my compliments?"