STAW Vol 1. pt. 3

I don’t want to be summoned into another world. No, really. I don’t.

While Lilith thanks her seven dwarfs – no, sorry, her seven goblins for keeping guard, I examine their bodies.

Their heads are comically oversized for how frail and short their bodies are. They hardly reach up to my waist, yet each one of them has a head larger than mine. Their legs and arms are as thin as twigs as well. Honestly, I am amazed they are even capable of holding those primitive spears without falling over. With how small their feet are and how thin their legs are, I would assume just having the heads that they have would be enough to make them constantly lose balance and fall over.

Yet, they stand and walk without any issue. They can also wield spears three times their height seemingly with ease.

Why does any of this matter?

Well, because it means one of two things, potentially both: one, they are creatures that should be impossible but are able to exist because of magic or some other external force making their bodies just work; and/or two, this new world that I have been summoned to obeys different laws of physics than the one I was brought from.

I doubt that Snow Crimson and her seven goblins would be able to tell me if my theories are correct. However, many characters in clichéd fictions have a habit of underestimating seemingly-idiotic people. I will not make that same mistake.

I tell Lilith my theories and await an answer.

“What are physics, Milord?” she asks me with a cocked head.

I sigh and leave the room.

“Mi-Milord! What are physics? Milord!” she calls out, her annoying voice catching up to me.

“Where is your brother?” I ask.

“H-he should be in the tribe’s throne room. You’ll find it if you keep going this way.”

“Of course I would. I just so happen to have walked through the exact door and am going down through the right hallway I need to in order to advance the plot, right?”

“I am not plotting against you, Milord! Please believe me!”

“What time is it?”

“Why, Milord?”

“Because I need to go to sleep and hope that I wake up from this nightmare.”

Looking around, I see that we are in what appears to be a once-regal estate. I only say once-regal because there are cobwebs on the stone statues of demons that we walk by, I have seen what appear to be several roaches skittering about on the floor that move via tentacles rather than legs, and everything is just… dirty.

“Do those working for you not understand the saying, ‘if you have time to lean, you have time to clean?’ Your goblins back there clearly have the time to lean, but I see no cleaning,” I tell her.

“Milord… that is such a – such a horrifying saying! You truly are the best possible candidate!” Lilith declares as annoyingly as ever.

“Should there not be guards patrolling the halls, servants cleaning all of this filth up, and general busywork being done? You are from a tribe of high devils, are you not? What does a tribe even mean in this context?” I ask her as we walk through the hallway that I am sure will conveniently end as soon as I am done asking her expository question.

“We-well, you see, Milord, umm… first, a ‘tribe’ is the same as a human ‘family.’ As for why we don’t have all that stuff here… we are the weakest of the tribes, and there are many beneath us wishing to take our tribe’s place. If you do not succeed, then our tribe will likely perish.”

“So, in other words, you are running on a deficit budget.”

“Milord! Please stop using such complicated words! I-it reminds me that I am—”

“Stupid.”

“Uuu…”

My situation is looking more and more grim here. If this were a fictional story, one of two routes would happen: one, I am going to somehow overcome any and all trials I face and become amazing and perfect and blah blah blah; or two, this is the other type of story where the main character unexpectedly dies or the synopsis completely betrays what the story is actually about. Right now, if this were a story, I am sure it would talk about how a middle-aged man gets summoned into a new world and somehow becomes the dark lord. That synopsis could potentially be clickbait. After all, clickbait is everywhere these days.

I am going to hope that it is the former of those two potential routes rather than the latter.

Then again, even if everything was “lit” as I think the kids say these days, that does not mean that something could not randomly happen and completely change everything when nobody expects it.

No, I cannot think like that. I will grow paranoid and suspect everything and everybody around me if I do that.

Then again, paranoia is a trait that many characters lack when they should rightfully have it.

I will settle for being seventy percent paranoid.

Also, who came up with "lit" meaning cool or good? Do they say "extinguished" or "out" when something is lame or bad?

I spot a statue of a chest up ahead. “Lilith.”

“Yes, Milord?”

“That chest is not actually a mimic, is it?”

“Oh, yes! How were you able to tell? I call it Boxo!” she explains. “Hi, Boxo!” She waves over to it.

“Boxo” opens up its lid to wave a large, tongue-like limb at us.

“And why is Boxo sitting next to that door?” I ask.

“Because that’s the throne room! Boxo is its guard – well, Boxo is more like a pet than a guard. We can’t afford actual guards, and Boxo is a better guard than my goblins are. I’m amazed you were able to tell that Boxo is a mimic from here!”

“I have seen one too many stories where the supposed main character gets devoured by a mimic near the beginning of the story. I would rather avoid that fate.”

“It’s a good thing you mentioned it, Milord! Boxo might have attacked you if you didn’t remind me to let Boxo know that you’re our new candidate!” she explains, looking over at Boxo. “Boxo, he’s our new candidate!”

Boxo gives a little side-to-side wobble out of what I assume is acknowledgment.

“You were going to let me walk up to it without telling me about it?” I ask her, my eyes narrowed at her.

“S-sorry, Milord… I forgot.”

“Is there anything else that you are forgetting?”

She droops her head and shoulders. “Probably…”

“Wonderful.”

“Do you mean that, Milo—” she stops her excited question when she notices my unimpressed expression. “Uuu…”

“Your brother is in there, yes?” I ask, straightening out my suit and pushing back my hair. I must make sure that I am presentable, after all.

“Yes,” she says, her answer short and sweet. I wish she would always be as succinct as this.

I look down at Boxo to make sure that it isn’t getting ready to attack me or anything like that. I see a bit of drool escaping underneath its lid, but that’s it.

I push open the door.

This room is called a throne room, but I have seen hotel bathrooms in a better state of affairs than this. At least hotel bathrooms don't have wax-covered candelabras, windows so filthy that they cannot be seen through, nor a dining table covered in broken and dusty dining ware.

“Who is this, Lilith?” a man asks from the far end of the room. Going by the elaborate clothes that he is wearing and the crimson and gold chair that he is sitting in, I am assuming that he is Lilith’s older brother.

I already dislike him. He just has that vibe to him – you know the one. He looks, sounds, and carries himself like the sort of upper management drone who stopped trying as soon as he reached his position, and now believes that everybody must respect him and do exactly as he says simply because of his job title.

Which is usually correct but makes oneself extremely unlikeable.

Aside from that, I cannot say that they do not look like siblings. He has the same black hair and red horns that she has, but his hair is much longer and his face is even prettier than hers. He looks like a member of one of those Asian boy bands. Wait, is that eyeliner and nail polish that he is wearing? This world doesn't have coffee, but it has makeup? 

“He – he’s the candidate that I summoned!” Lilith answers, stepping out in front of me.

“Is that so?” her older brother asks. He sounds bored.

“Yes! Why – why aren’t you angrier?”

“Because it does not matter to me. I have already seen the candidates summoned forth by our rivals, and nothing short of summoning the original dark lord himself would likely defeat them. This is to be the fiercest trial in our history.”

“No way… so there’s no point in even trying?”

“Look at you, Lilith. You are finally using your brain for once. Why do you think I did not immediately come to you when it was reported that the cave was entered? The only hope for our tribe to retain its position is to marry you to the Black Scales tribe’s heir,” he says before finally lifting his head enough to look at me. “Look, you brought us a human. Do you expect me to believe that a human could accomplish anything?”

“I have already accomplished having more ambition than you despite wanting to die rather than come here,” I say. I would have stayed quiet back on Earth as the less drama, the better, but I fail to see what that will accomplish here.

Plus, bullies are as annoying as clichés.

“Is that so? Then die. There is nothing you can do. Whatever power you asked for, I assure you that it will not be enough to defeat the other candidates.”

“I skipped that part.”

“You do not have any powers? No weapon? No items?”

“Look at you, using your eyes for once. Do I look like I have anything on me? If you would like me to, I can demonstrate that I even lack any magical abilities.” I raise my hands and half-assedly wiggle my fingers while saying, “Abracadabra.”

He looks at Lilith now. “Congratulations, Lilith, your final act of defiance was summoning somebody more worthless than a speck of dust.”

“Speaking of dust,” I interject, “this estate is filthy. Why are you sitting around when there is clearly much work to be done? You cannot expect your subordinates to work if you do not work yourself.”

The two siblings look at me in entirely different ways. Whereas Lilith looks shocked, her brother looks positively furious.

I could get used to this "not staying quiet" thing. Not having to worry about burning bridges and screwing myself out of a paycheck is just as liberating as I always dreamt it would be.