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King’s life, until now, had consisted of a series of events he’d had no choice but to move past.
He’d been shunned by his old village, which then went up in flames, and was currently paying the price with hundreds of years of imprisonment—and that was merely because most of the inhabitants had been of a short-lived race, he thought with venom. He really, truly believed he had nothing left to lose, and had resolved to live as such, until now.
Perhaps it shouldn’t have been a surprise saying goodbye to the tallman locksmith that left yesterday was another of those events.
Masamune burned so brightly with life, it was saddening to think the time he had left paled in comparison to King’s. It made sense, he supposed, that he was so set on finding a cure for his friend’s illness. Even so, he was much too reckless for the lifespan he possessed.
Some part of him wondered if he’d ever see him again.
—
“We are so lost,” bemoaned Masamune, as they turned another corner in the maze of corridors and were met with a dead end.
Masamune had only joined up with this party just today, because they had the mage Anton had mentioned after he was, if he did say so himself, awesomely defeated by yours truly. Hey, when you were looking for a mysterious magical cure for your dying childhood friend, you had to take what you could get.
“Says you, new guy,” Lera, halfling and fellow locksmith shot back. Then, like she could hear something the rest of them couldn’t—which, given her ears, was probably exactly what was happening—she perked up suddenly and shushed them. “I hear footsteps…”
“Smell something…strange…” mumbled Nowaguma, Lera’s kobold companion.
“Let’s stand back for now,” suggested Aleksey, gnome party leader and aforementioned mage, “Wait for it to come to us.”
For a moment, all four of them stood there, still and silent, staring into the void of the path in front of them.
Then, there was a distant shuffling noise, the flap of a thick cape, until a figure emerged from the darkness. On high alert, Masamune immediately began to focus on the features of the figure’s face.
Blue hair, bluer eyes, super pointy…wait a second.
Masamune remembered him. This was the canary—King, his mind supplied—that he’d been sparring yesterday.
Even in the dimly lit corridor, the smirk on his face was apparent. Maybe he was hallucinating, but he could swear there was a glow to King’s eyes, stare radiating directly into his soul.
But what was King doing here, in a place like this?
“Who’s that?” Masamune barely registers the whispered question of one of the members of the party he was currently traveling with.
Then, there is a gasp behind him, someone calling his name, as King draws a sword out of nowhere. He’s gotten so close, Masamune thinks he’ll be skewered if he doesn’t move. Even so, his limbs are stone. Everything felt faint, lost to the gravity of that canary’s eyes.
It was only natural to remember meeting someone like him. After all, Masamune had never met anyone, much less an elf, who had sparred him with such fervor before. In a strange way, he’d almost been anticipating this—seeing this canary again, like a sign of death hanging before him, flying ever closer to the smell of smoke.
King leaned closer, impossibly closer, and Masamune was left wondering how in the world he hadn’t been penetrated yet, before a pair of lips met his. The heat which arose from it was scalding, like looking at the sun for too long. Perhaps that’s exactly what has happened to him, because even his vision is blurring.
It's a wonderful feeling, he thinks, as he loses the battle with wakefulness, his surroundings fading to black.
—
“Really? An elf?” deadpanned Lera, who Masamune was currently attempting not to strangle. He’s only known her for a little over a day, and it would reflect badly on his record to strangle randoms he was traveling with while he was looking for a mage that could cure Toby.
Luckily, Aleksey, with Nowaguma’s help, had made short work of the succubi after seeing him and Lera get bitten. It’s kind of embarrassing, remembering how thoroughly he’d been stopped in his tracks by something like that.
Still, Aleksey was able to heal their bites after, somehow. Which meant he did at least know something about healing magic. Which meant maybe now was the time to ask if Aleksey knew of a way to heal Toby, too…
But he was getting off track.
“Yeah, so? Like yours wasn’t an elf, too?” Masamune raises an eyebrow at her in indignation. Of all people, who was she to question his taste?!
“It’s different!” Lera harrumphs, nose scrunching up. Then, mildly disappointed, “She wouldn’t try to kiss me, for one.”
“Oh, come on, that was totally a fluke!” Masamune protests, feeling his ears warm, “I just wanted to sword fight him again, is that so wrong?!”
“I can think of several things wrong with what you just said,” Lera fires back, arms crossed. “Want a list?”
Masamune just sighs, surrendering the argument. This back-and-forth was reminding him of his past arguments with Zeo, which always served to dampen his mood. Even though he wasn’t a mage himself, was it really his fault for not wanting to involve ancient magic in Toby’s eventual cure? After all, none of them, not even Toby, the better mage of the two, knew a thing about it. They were bound to mess something up.
He shakes his head to himself. Who needs ancient magic, anyways? His goal now was to find a mage who could cure Toby without that, which would both prove Zeo wrong and fix Toby up again so they could keep conquering the dungeon as a team. They couldn’t be called Team Dungeon for nothing, after all.
Even with what he said about ancient magic, Masamune knows, deep down, he has already forgiven Zeo. Hopefully, when they reunited, Zeo would be so relieved that Toby was back to normal he’d forgive Masamune for leaving after their argument, too.