Did I mention that dying sucks? No? Well, it does. I mean, this is only my second time, but I can see a trend forming. There was pain, yes. Nearly unbearable. But what makes my death suck this time more is not the death itself. It is to see Myra collapsing close by. Sobbing uncontrollably. My death caused her pain and for that, I am truly sorry.

I can see her. As I am floating disembodied over my tossed aside corpse. Helpless and unable to do anything. For example, I'd wish to wipe that smirk off Bradford's face. Or that of his herald, as he steps to my body. I know what he is waiting for here. And there it is. My soul-crystal emerges.

"What should we do with this one?" he asks the overblown meatbag in charge as he grabs my crystal.

"She wasn't even worth calling a champion." Bradford looks honestly disappointed. "Fierce for a void-trader, but she still is just that. A trader. Toss her to the rest of the rejects. I doubt we can win her to our cause."

"As you wish, Lord Commander." Casually, the herald tosses my soul-crystal past his boss. To the pile of other civilians who defied the empire.

Yet my crystal never arrives there. Mid-flight, it suddenly stops. Starts to float higher. Material appears around it. Manifesting into a body, clothes, armor, and a big ass sword.

"My lord-"

The words of the herald cut off. As if the world around me freezes in time. No, that is not quite right. Everything is slowed down as I am reborn in an Automata body. My movement feels like being stuck in thick molasses. Barely making any progress.

But I don't need much. I am still close to Bradford. There is still a chance. What? You think I only wanted to get close to him to sink a bullet in his skull. I have to admit, it would have been nice. But I knew my chances were slim for it to happen. And let's be real here, my fleshy body has garbage stats. At least for every physical aspect.

The Automata body is the ace up my sleeve and I had one kitted out for Maryn. All the armor of her backup kit she left with me. And, of course, the buster sword. Becky mentioned an equip-on-death feature and I later looked it up. It was really there. At least, in theory. I couldn't really test it out before. So, it was a gamble to rely on it for my plan.

Speaking off. I shouldn't zone out. Bradford is within reach. Luckily, my body is already in the right position to cleave into mister wannabe-dictator right here. All I have to do is aim the blade a little more and split that asshole's skull.

Oh, no. No. No!

How is he reacting? Bradford's eyes spotted me. Even in slow-mo or bullet-time or whatever that is. And he is on the move. My blade is barely a handspan now away and Bradford is evading. Come on. Just a little more.

Missed his head. The blade is barely going past the ear. But not all is lost. I might have missed the skull, but it looks like I can still hit him.

There! The edge of my sword caught him in the shoulder. Slowly sinking deeper despite the sudden resistance. Down. Further down. My sword exits just below the armpit. Neatly cutting of Bradford's left arm. It is not an instant win, but heck, I'll take it.

Still falling, it is too late to adjust my swing with the sword any further. Making me miss his legs and impact with the ground. Wow. My blade left a surprisingly deep cut on the stone floor.

Time to pull my sword up and push my attack. That is getting easier as time speeds up again. Whatever this was that had me live in slow motion is disappearing.

Ouch. Bradford is fast. A quick kick to the rips makes me stumble a few steps back. Opening up the space between us. It gives me a brief moment to see what I have done. A severed arm on the ground and blood spatter around it. Bradford clutching the wound where once, only a few seconds ago, had been a limb. Strange. It doesn't bleed as much as I had anticipated. In fact, I can see it slowly dying off. Is Bradford's healing ability that good?

There is only one solution.

I lunge for Bradford again. Taking a wide swing. To my surprise, a body jumps in the way. The herald. For a moment, I had forgotten that ass existed. No matter. My blade cuts neatly through his body. Not even stopping for the spine. Damn, either this sword is sharp as heck or my Automata body is really freakin' strong.

Of course, the damage is done. Delaying my blade enough so Bradford could evade. Nearly. I still caught him. The tip of my blade slicing an inch deep into his belly. As I turn my sword around, Bradford takes a few steps back. Or tries at least. Guess who's back is against the wall now? That's right. I love it when a plan comes together.

Shit. Jumped over my blade. Why does Bradford have to be this god-damn mobile? Well, nothing another well-placed swing with my sword can't fix.

Damn. Got to retreat a few steps and deflect bullets. I don't understand. One moment Bradford is clutching his grievous wound and the next he has a pistol in hand again. Squeezing off shots so fast that I have barely time to react. No doubt this display of skill would have made my original body an imitation of swiss cheese.

But my Automata body is fast. All physical stats between twenty-two to twenty-five. Giving me the edge I need to turn my blade and deflect his shots. Despite my successful counter, I can't say we are evenly matched. Just the speed Bradford acts hints at even higher stats.

There. He stopped shooting. Time to go into the offense again and-

Oh, that sucker held a bullet back. Caught me in the stomach. It hurts a lot. Even though I have an Automata body now. Nevertheless, I am not out of this match. This is but a scratch.

Raising my blade high, I go for a downward sweeping attack. Just like the on strike that lost Bradford his arm. I expected him to evade, but he surprises me with a kick against my sword which deflects it to the side. What he didn't expect is me letting go of it and bridging the space to him in a split second.

Time to pummel him with my fists. Alright. Bradford is good. Avoiding most of my strikes, but I still hit plenty. Feeling his flesh dent under the impact of my fists. Even hearing his rips fracturing or breaking.

There. He stops trying to deflect my blows with his one remaining arm. I think I know what comes now. Time to retreat and summon.

Just in time. Materialized a new copy of the buster sword barely before the first shots ring out. I even deflected most of them, but burning pain in my left thigh and right biceps tell me I didn't escape unscathed.

When he stops raining bullets, I fake leaving my defense. Just to armor up and catch two more bullets with my wide sword. Did he really think he could catch me with the same trick twice?

Time to advance. Sword held like a tower shield. Blocking most of my body like a tower shield. Yet ready to swing. Slowly inching closer again.

There. Bradford is trying to break out to the left. Time to-

Shit, it was a feint. Reversing direction and breaking out to the right. Worse, he got two more bullets into my side. Damn, that hurts. Then again, he is throwing his gun aside. What? Out of bullets?

Before I can intercept him, Bradford rushes to the soldiers who line the stage. Now, I've lost him. I had my chance and-

What's that? Ha! The soldiers won't let him pass. Aww. Did mister dictator create a warrior society with honor-based ritualized combat? Is he now trapped in a situation of his own making? He probably could break out by force, but then what? The invincible lord commander fleeing from a single woman? That's gotta be a chip in his armor of honor and prestige.

No, instead, he steals a pistol and twirls around again. Sending more lead my way. Shit. He got my left leg good. Don't even know how many times. Hurts like hell though.

Worse, with my leg damaged like this, he has the advantage again. Dancing around me. More shots ring out. Until I have to drop my sword as my arm loses integrity.

"I admit, I didn't see that coming," Bradford says as he walks closer. Feeling safe as I am now disarmed. "But this round goes to me too."

I stare him down. Showing him my resolve. "I heard no bell ring."

"Let me remedy that." With those words, he places another round right between my eyes.

Death number three. But don't count me out yet. Of course, I made a new Automata body. Oh, the look on Bradford's face. As my Automata body's chest suddenly opens up. The barely noticeable widening of his eyes as my soul-crystal starts to float up and twirling material starts to manifest around it.

And I am back. Once again stuck in time flowing like syrup. Well, I don't mind. It gives me time to figure things out. Namely, what do I equip? I only had one Automata body prepped for Maryn. Rezzed, dressed and then stowed away. This new one is naked.

Summoning a new sword is a no-brainer. I admit it isn't my preferred weapon, as I swing it around like a brute without much finesse. But the ability to turn it sideways and use the width of the blade is invaluable.

Should I summon Maryn's armor again too? I mean, I barely feel it with the Automata body strengths as it is. And its thick leather does fuck all to stop bullets. So, I might as well forget about it. That means I either go naked or for my shielding garments. Which, depending on which variant, might slow me down even more.

Hmm, I think I have a better idea.

Golden mist starts appearing around me as an Orochni Styled Exoskeleton takes form around my body. While some kind of golden metal, it is overall pretty light and shouldn't slow me down. I should have researched a version to boost speed. but then again I didn't know I would need this full-body gizmo. Still, the increased strength and stamina might give me the edge I need.

As my latest slow-motion experience ends, I failed to launch an attack. My time was taken up by materializing my gear. But now I am ready.

To my surprise, Bradford didn't even attempt to attack. Not even a snide comment about my revealing outfit. Guess he is taking me now seriously. Finally! Then again, being underestimated had its advantages.

Well, while he ponders how to get rid of me, I can do the same. A small breather before we go at it again.

Wait. No!

Bradford is playing for time. Holy shit, his arm is growing back. Not very fast. But I can already see the shoulder I cut off reforming and parts of his biceps. If I don't end it quickly, he might regain his second arm and I have no doubt, that would spell my doom. No doubt, if he can wield two guns again, Bradford will be deadlier.

Time to recklessly head in. Swinging wildly while trying to catch him. What else is there to do? He has mobility and ranged weapons on his side. If I am not careful, he can kite me forever. And what do I have? One thick-ass sword that should be way heavier than it is.

Huh?

Is my Automata body so strong that this chunk of shaped metal feels light? Especially with the exoskeleton helping. Wait! That gives me an idea.

"Hey Bradford," I call out as I stop mid-movement. Coming to a halt in the center of the stage. "Don't you know guns are lame? Here, try my sword."

And with those wise words, I lob my sword at him. Barely missed him. He must be some kind of limbo dance master. Else he would be in two parts now.

No matter. I am already summoning another sword in my left hand and crafting another with a quick thought. Once ready, I throw my new sword, while summoning another one in my other hand and already crafting a replacement once more in my inventory. I may have run out of bullets, but I doubt I will run out of swords any time soon. Call it an unfair advantage for void-traders. Not to mention, why shoot tiny projectiles of lead when you can hurl sharp steel of forty or so pounds that is over half the length of my body?

So far, my new tactic barely bears fruit. Got a few nicks and cuts on Bradford. But he is running out of space. I actually hurl the swords strong enough for about every second of them to bury into the stone. Jutting dangerously out and reducing where he can evade to.

Ups. One of my swords plowed into the soldiers ringing the open side of the stage. Well, as long as I don't hit one of the unwilling audience members I don't care if a spinning blade decapitates three soldiers in one strike.

Yes! A nice long cut on Bradfords back. Not fatal, but if I have to kill him by a thousand cuts, then so be it. By now his uniform is in tatters too. Too many cuts starting to overwhelm his-

Damn. Wait a moment. Unfair. Alright. I taunted Bradford that he should try using a sword. But I didn't mean for him to actually do it. It was a stupid one-liner. Not combat advice.

Urg. He is good with a sword too. Of course, he is. Now I have to evade! How unfair. Duck. Side-step. Twirl. Oh shit, can't evade-

Ha! His blade glanced off my exoskeleton. I think it said something about partially acting as a defensive garment. Heck, with so much skin shown I thought of it as a joke. But guess what. All those swirls of gold circling my body do a good job of deflecting his blade. It's too wide to penetrate the gaps. However, a slimmer blade or bullets could do the trick.

Oh, no. Bradford had the same idea. Dual-wielding sword and gun. Shit, what do I do now?

It is over before I know what happened. My legs buckle with pain. The sword I wielded clattering to the ground as I lose control of my hand. My forearm was nearly cut off by bullets slipping through my defenses.

And once again, I find myself at Bradford's mercy. Not that there is any to expect.

"This time, stay down."

As if. There is still plenty of fight left in me. And glaring up I make it known. "Don't count on it."

Another death. Once again my soul-crystal is ejected. Time to craft yet another Automata body. Neat thing, right? I can still craft things while being reduced to soul-crystal form.

"But what now?" I ponder while being stuck once again in slow motion. Being mounted in a fresh Automata body is giving me once again time to ponder the question. I tried going close. Bradford still evades me good. If only I had cut off a leg instead of an arm. Going ranged by throwing swords unbalanced him, but not for long. So, what now?

Think Lillyn, think. What would Becky do? Or Dera. Neither faced an opponent like this. Fast, skilled, and strong. Not to mention proficient in melee and ranged. And what do I know? I was part of only two delves into hardened space. The second time I didn't participate at all. And the first time I nearly got us killed because-

Huh.

Because I got myself stuck.

Oh, no. Not that tactic. I'll never live that down. People will make fun of me for generations. I don't even know if it will work with an Automata body. But even without, it might buy me some time to figure things out.

Alright. Time to summon my "Heavy Skirt Of Sustained Shielding", "Belt Of Shielding", and two "Bracelets Of Shielding". Not my heavy tunic. No sense in bursting another one as my main weapon will be the "Cross-Strap Bra Of The Shieldmaiden". That's right. You are probably laughing now. Look, I have no choice, okay?

"I think you missed dressing up a part," Bradford says with mirth in his voice and a smirk on his face. One I intend to wipe of his stupid ass face.

I activate all my shields at once. Making the air between us glimmer with a barely visible force field. And, for the first time ever, I am relieved as my breasts grow. So, it works with Automata. I was worried it wouldn't.

Crafting and summoning two potions of shielding and- "Bottoms up!"

I drink two at a time while crafting and summoning even more potions. Twenty. Thirty. I keep going. Reaching the chest size of my original body. Let me tell you it is a strange feeling to fight for regaining my comically large breast size again. But I am not done. More potions. Ever more go down my throat. As fast as I can craft and summon them. The progress hindered that my original size on the Automata body is way less than that of my fleshy body. With the growths enchantment working in percentage, there is no helping it.

It gets hard to stand when my breasts reach the size of beanbag chairs. Time to take a short break and-

"Are you intending to fight me like that?" Bradford laughs. His right arm propped on his hip and his left- Damn, it has regenerated down to his elbow. Time is running out.

"What?" I ask innocently before drinking two more potions. "Never heard of the saying 'if you can't fight it out, hug it out'?"

Before Bradford can react, I accelerate with surprising speed. I might be big, but my body is still a freakishly strong Automata. When Bradford finally starts to react, I have already bridged half the distance. It is too late.

I catch him with my left breast. A sentence I never thought I would say. The sheer force of the impact pushed him back and is flinging him against the wall behind. But I don't stop. Colliding with Bradford and smashing him against the wall again. A spidery web of cracks is created around him. Giving judgment to the force of the impact. But I am not done. Stemming against his attempts to break free while happily chucking more potions.

It takes a good half minute for Bradford to push his legs between us and then shove me off. Making me stumble and fall. No matter. Standing up, I see that my attack did damage. He looks beaten up and coughing blood. Oh my! Did I cause internal bleeding? I am so, so sorry. Not.

Now realizing the danger I pose, Bradford is squeezing off the last shots he got in his pistol. I don't even feel them. All caught by my enormous personal shield. It makes a dent. Robbing me of tens of thousands of shield points. Even managing to shrink my breasts by a considerable amount again.

"You think that will do you any good?" I ask before starting to chuck back shield potions again.

If looks could kill I'd probably still standing. Thanks to my personal shield. But the venom in Bradford's eyes is palatable. "What kind of monster are you?"

"Monster? No. Void-trader. Come on. Say it with me. Void. Trader. Void-trader."

"Soldier!" Bradford shouts out. Fear coloring his voice. Or am I just imagining it? He is pointing at me with his good arm too. "Kill this monstrosity. She can't be allowed to live!"

Silence settles over the theater. Not a sound can be heard. Even crickets are quiet. Wait. Does Besona have crickets? Looking around I see the soldiers hesitant. They are here to bask in the glory of their lord commander. Witness how he dispatches his enemies in an honorable duel. All to fan his ego. But the tides have turned. And now, he asks going against all he ever taught them.

One single soldier steps up. Aims his pistol at me. But his hand is shaking. The finger failing to pull the trigger.

Is he scared? Of little old me?

"Go ahead," I taunt him. "My shield can handle it. And even if you manage to kill me, you know I won't stay dead. Then, you'll be sorry."

My words are heard. The little tin soldier stumbling back. He isn't the only one. Others take an involuntary step back too.

"Now." I drink another set of potions. "Where were we?"

"Cowards!" Bradford bellows. Followed by a stream of not child-friendly content that I won't repeat. He cuts off as I once again rush him like a steam engine run wild.

This time, he manages to evade me. Which is a shame. Could have used him as an airbag to dampen my impact against the wall. There go another few thousand shield points. Not that it matters. I just have to drink more.

Now. Where is-

Ha! Bradford stumbled over one of my swords I hurled and buried in the floor. This is my opportunity!

"Bodyslam!"

Got'him. He is buried beneath my tit flesh. I think. It is hard to tell. I mean there still is my personal shield between us. But I can feel something rowdy beneath me trying to throw me off.

Well, there is only one solution. I've got to drink more. Ten. Twenty. Thir-

Heck, I lost count.

But it is working. I feel the struggle getting less. It seems Bradford's strength does have its limits after all. And his mobility is done for. Just as I planned.

"Hey, Bradford. You okay down there?"

"Get. Off. Me. You. Abomination."

How rude. I thought it was every guy's dream to motorboat a girl's big tits. Okay. Probably not everyone. Not me. When I was a teenager - and still a boy - I had no such dirty thoughts. I swear.

Oh, no. My feet just left the ground. Guess there goes my mobility too. I swear if anyone photographs me with these giant tits, I will- Does Besona even have photographs. Maybe an equivalent.

Wait. I am rolling. Forward? Ah, I stopped. Hey, look. I can see Bradford's face. I wonder. Time to summon a sword and get it over with. Don't you think so too? This has been going on long enough.

A final swing and-

Oh. My. Gosh. Darn it. My breasts are so big I can't even reach Bradford. The tip of my sword is just a handspan away from his nose.

"Bradford. It is over. Any last words?"

"I will-"

Ups.

Sword slipped my grasp.

Split a skull.

Cut a man's last words rudely off.

I am so sorry.

Nah, not really.

Hey. Guess what. The void-trader won. Who'd see that coming? Honestly, I wouldn't have said I had it in me. At least, until Maryn died. Then I had to win. I mean, there is a prophecy after all, right.

Anyway. Time to get off this piece of shit. Wait. Can't move. Not even roll. I guess I have to dismiss my personal shield. Hold on. Woah, that feels strange. Let me tell you, going from the size of two cars to apple-sized in the span of a few seconds is not pleasurable.

Hey, look. Someone dropped a soul-crystal. Bradford? That you?

Hehe.

"Look!" I shout as I hold up the crystal. "There is your unbeatable Lord Commander. Defeat by a void-trader."

Silence. They all stare at me. Caught civilians and soldiers alike. Cowed and afraid by little old me. That's funny. Well, to me at least. At least they didn't start shooting now that Bradford's and my duel is over. Hmm, what do I do now?

"You want him back?" Look. I might defeat them all one on one. But not if they all rush me at once. Worse, they could blast me from afar. "Who is man enough to challenge me?"

Hushed whispers all around me. Frightened glances to and fro. Who will be the first to dare to attack me.

There. A soldier steps forward and-

Takes a knee? He is bowing his head. Others follow his example. Just a few seconds later, they all bow in submission. That's not what I wanted. I mean I don't want to fight. But what do they think happens now? Me taking over for Bradford? Think again, idiots!

"So, that's your answer? Surrender?" My gaze roams over the soldiers. There. The banner carrier. Walking over I motion for him to hand it over.

Urg. Idiot hands me his pistol instead. "The banner," I say as I toss the weapon over my shoulder.

As he hands me it over, I hold four previous heroes from Earth in my grasp. They each tried to defeat Bradford. They all failed where I succeeded. Still, I think they'll be up for a fight.

It only takes a few seconds to spawn a new Automata body. As I grab Maryn's soul-crystal, the cavity in the chest opens up. "You can all surrender, provided my negotiator Maryn lets you."

With those words, I insert Maryn's soul-crystal. Her eyes flutter then focus on me. Smiling, I hand her one of the swords. "I think you need this for negotiations."

"I promise the negotiations will be short," she says as she grabs the weapon.

Most already guessed what comes now. The soldiers slowly retreating backward. But as Maryn takes her first step, they all flee. Letting whatever weapons they carry fall.

"Lillyn!"

A body impacts with me. Lips find mine. And for a moment, I am back in slow motion. The world standing still. Just for Myra and me.

---

This has been a long day. Too much excitement for my taste. Heck, I am supposed to be a trader. Lazing around in my Little Mule and peddling wares. Not taking on crazed dictators with their own personal cult and army of fanatics.

But it is over now. I even got my body. As strange as it sounds, I missed it. All of it. Even my oversized breasts. I know. I know. I always complain about them. But honestly, I made my peace with them. Heck, they might helped me land Myra as my girlfriend. Not that she would admit out loud.

How?

Oh, right. Let me catch you up on what happened in the last few bells. Sorry, I was a little emotionally drained to narrate that all in detail. So, it turns out that attached to the Demole's militia was a soul-guide. One that was captured when the fighting was over. He was more than willing to perform his job for us. Resurrecting not just me, but all of those that died in the theater. Even a few dozens outside of it.

Now, you might point out that that requires a lot of soul-flakes. Five thousand a head. Well, guess who carried a shit ton of soul-flakes with him. That's right. Bradford was loaded to the brim with the stuff. Why? I guess upgrades to stats get more expansive as they progress. With him already way past normal bounds, I might need millions to raise a single stat. The moment I killed him, all those soul-flakes got shaken loose. Showering the audience. I got over one hundred thousand myself.

No, I didn't squirrel those away to save for a male body. Don't get me wrong. I was tempted. But I have gotten used to this one. Not to mention, I think Myra would be a little turned off if I switched suddenly genders.

Not to mention it would be egoistically. Who knows how many civilians of Demole died. While Maryn and the previous heroes from Earth - yes, I gave them Automata bodies - started hunting down soldiers, I was busy the last few bells crafting soul-chargers. Not a lot. With so many Automata bodies rezzed, swords summoned, and potions drunk, I was scraping at the bottom of my void-favor purse. Thankfully the people of Demole pitched in. Those resurrected at least. Whatever void-favors they have they handed over. More than that. They all are running to and from their homes. Collecting valuables just for me to void. So I can craft a few more soul-chargers and save a few more soul-crystals from expiring in the long term.

I fear Demole won't recover from this ordeal for quite some time. It is one thing to stabilize thousands of soul-crystals. An entirely different task will be to resurrect all of them. To gather the soul-flakes for it will be a monumental task. Well, once all soul-crystals are secured, maybe we can scratch up enough void-favors for a few basic Automata bodies.

Speaking of volunteer groups. There is Myra coming back with some of the civilians we rescued from the theater. Bringing more items to void. An is that Maryn? In her human form no less. I guess the fighting must have concluded. Finally. It had been many bells. Soon the sun will set. Damn, I can't wait to get to bed.

"How goes the war?" I ask as Maryn sits down beside me.

"We drove the soldiers back a few hours back," Maryn says with a sigh. "It was the Church Of The Prophet that gave us more trouble."

A few priests? Really? "How so. There couldn't have been many of them."

"There were," Maryn corrects me while pinching the bridge of her nose. Then giving me a tired shake of her head. She looks just as exhausted as I feel. "Over a thousand of them. While Bradford was busy playing theatrics, they were up to no good in the first temple."

"Summoning who knows what," Myra pitches in. "The head-priestess is really concerned. This is what she feared. With so many priests and priestesses connected to the Otherworldy, they could have fast-tracked any summoning prophecy."

"We found no evidence that they got anything out of the gate," Maryn now adds. "But that doesn't mean anything. We could have just arrived late."

"That's a problem for another day," I say. Sounds to me, at least for now, the fighting is over.

"Here," Maryn says while holding out her hand. A familiar icon of an Automata body floating over her palm. "It was very helpful, but I don't need it anymore. At least, for now."

"Keep it," I say while waving her off. "It was meant for you anyways and it is good to have a backup."

"True. And I'd love to keep it." But contrary to her words, she pushes her hand even closer to mine. "But it is better used by you. If you void it, how many more soul-chargers can you craft?"

Shit. She has a point. "A lot," I admit out loud. Taking the offered item and voiding it a moment later. "What will you do now?"

"There still is a Western Empire." Steel returns into the eyes of Maryn. Her exhaustion gone for the moment. "The abomination Bradford built. They won't retreat for long and they can't remain to stand. We need to tear it down. The others summoned from Earth and I spoke. We agree. That's where we can do the most good. We ain't the prophecized heroes that put an end to Bradford, but we can still end what he left behind."

"The prophecy. Yeah. Listen." How do I explain it best? "It was a double-edged sword from the start. The second Bradford and his fanatics took over the temple was the very moment he doomed himself. Do you understand? Bradford and his church created a prophecy that he could only be defeated by a hero originating from Earth. Thinking that if he cut us off from Earth, he would be undefeatable forever. But everything has to end. And I think Besona on some level knows it. The moment they captured the temple the prophecy worked against Bradford. Making Besona enforce that the last viable candidate has to win. If I hadn't been there as a backup for you, then you, Maryn, would have succeeded. I don't know how, but you would have."

"Is that why you said to me you can't lose as Bradford had you in his grip?" Uh, oh. Myra sounds angry. She even punched me in the shoulder. Ouch. "That logic is shoddy at best. There are hundreds of other scenarios. You can't narrow it down like that. Prophecies are vague. And what we told you was reverse-engineered from what we found written in the fabric of Besona. We could have made a mistake."

"You are right," I tell her. Holding my hands up in a sign of giving concessions. "Then again, I thought path of least resistance. All the other scenarios would be much more a headache for Besona to realize."

"This isn't over," Myra decrees. "We will talk about that more later."

"Thanks for trying to spare my feelings," Maryn cuts in before I can dig my own grave any deeper. "But maybe this way has been for the best. Turns out being a hero isn't what books and movies on Earth led me to believe. I had my doubts for a while."

After patting me on the shoulder, Maryn stands up. "See you later. And thanks, Lillyn, hero of Besona."

Oh, god. I hope that title won't follow me around. Can I now get back to being a trader? I rather prefer a quiet life. Being a hero is too much drama. It is exhausting.

After crafting whatever soul-chargers I can, the volunteers leave again. With only Myra and me remaining, it is time to call it a night. But there is one thing left to do.

"Myra, why don't you wait upstairs. I'll join you in a moment, but there is something I have to do. It won't take long."

"You better," she says before giving me a kiss on the cheek. I can tell she is exhausted too. We all are. This was a long day.

Listen, my imaginary audience. We need to talk. I thought about it for a while now. I always say you are imaginary, right? But what if you aren't? What if you are out there? Not on Besona. Like, really really far away. Playing witness to my life. Maybe in the form of a movie, series, book, or podcast. Heck, it might be written down in a niche of the internet.

So, what if. What if my life is a story for you. What are the implications? Every story needs a main protagonist, right? That would be me. There is a journey, drama, and a final hurdle to overcome. Doesn't that fit my life perfectly? At least, ever since I arrived in Besona.

And who better to narrate my tale than myself, right? And here lies the problem. I told you that I narrate my life in times of stress. But never this much. Ever since coming to Besona, the need to narrate my life got out of hand. I can only reason that it is Besona that awakened the urge. But how did it know? Right from the start, Besona must have known that I am the main protagonist. At least, for this story. Freaky, right? It also means I can't have landed here by a freak accident. I guess that white Truck was meant to kill me after all. Well, after all the ups and downs, I kinda like the outcome. So, thanks Truck-kun for bringing me here. For making me a trader. Meeting the love of my life. Giving me a purpose.

But there is one last implication, dear audience, then it is that every story needs an ending. A happy end. And I get it. There are still a lot of things to do for me. Building a trading empire based on Automata bodies. Or I could research in other avenues. I started on so many projects and I finished so few. With my aptitude for void-magic, who knows what I will be stumbling on next? Not to mention that there is the rebuilding of Demole. With my Automata bodies and soul-chargers, I am a good fit to help out. And you probably want to witness it. All of it.

But what if I am right and Besona really makes a story out of my life? I couldn't just continue to narrate my life. That would be boring. No, a story needs hurdles. Problems to overcome. And I think Besona would be just too eager to make that a possibility.

If I want a happy end, then I have to resign from being the hero of this story. I have to stop narrating. Believe me, it will be hard. Narrating to you has become a part of my life. But it is necessary. Upstairs in my Little Mule is Myra. I love her. Of that, I have no doubt anymore. And I never want to risk her again.

A quiet life.

A happy end.

For that, I have to stop narrating. So, this is goodbye. Thank you for following me. Sorry for all the mad ramblings in between. The many tangents I had. Thank you for walking this path of adventure with me.

But this is where we part ways.

Goodbye.