The far-west is different.

“Hold still!” says Canta, tugging on Alleluia’s shoulder to pull her head back straight. She spares him the noises and jokes this time as he fiddles around with her body.

“Sorry honey, I saw a cricket,” she explains. “I was hoping it would go ‘ie ie ie’,” says Alleluia, bending her index finger with each enunciation. Canta does his best not to laugh, but a huff of air escapes him anyways, as he pulls the fabric straps around her body, readying her disguise. Silently, he thanks Nina for teaching him how to sew.

Well… ‘teaching’.

The visible gears on the sides of her neck are easy enough to cover with some fabric as a shawl. But the crank is the obvious problem. However, Canta, in his devious ingeniousness, has come up with the perfect idea. A simple, large rucksack, filled out with a light wooden frame to keep the bag ‘puffed up’, so that it wouldn’t block the crank.

All of the things that they needed, they had found here in this abandoned farm-shed on the borderlands. It has been another couple of weeks since their escape. Those days, despite what lays behind them, were oddly happy for Canta. The two of them are dirty, worn through, he’s covered in bumps and scratches and bruises that don’t seem to heal as fast as they should, since he hasn’t been eating right and she’s covered in the same things that are applicable for her metal body. But Canta can say for certain, as he wipes his dirty forehead on his sleeve and sets the strap onto her shoulder, that he’s happy.

“There,” says Canta, patting her on the back. She gets up, looking around and then down at herself, before trying to look over her shoulder. “You look like any old human now.”

“Really?!” she asks with a fervor that surprises Canta. In truth, she’s… close. But her skin is too perfect. Her eyes, glass, are too pristine and when you get close enough, the winding and humming of the many mechanisms inside of her body are both audible, if not even sensible through vibrations. But he doesn’t have the heart to tell her that, as he looks at those large eyes staring his way in delight.

“Just about,” he nods, saying something indistinct to stay on the safe side. “But don’t get too close to people.”

She stares at him knowingly. “Are you going to get jealous or something?”

“Yes,” replies Canta plainly and she smiles delighted, this is exactly what she wanted to hear and he knows it. Grabbing her hand, the two of them head back out of the barn, looking around if the coast is clear, before they keep on going.

“So are you going to make me a ring too?” she asks, trying to rile him up, but he’s learned that the best way to defuse her half-teasing is to simply acknowledge it forthrightly. No beating around the bush, no fake-answers given because the truth is too embarrassing, no snarky remarks or jokes to turn down the heat. The best thing to do to ‘win’ against her in these word games which he, at least, imagines that she’s playing is to get right to the point.

“After I’ve officially asked you to get married,” he explains. She doesn’t say anything else, as apparently he has passed her test. If such a thing even exists to begin with. It could also be that Canta is just a paranoid mess, attributing chicanery to a situation in which none was present. Either is plausible and either way, his answer was the correct one.

The west is different. Very different. In a very familiar way for Canta. It’s like his old life.

“Look, honey!” calls Alleluia, pointing out to the side, as the two of them walk through a patch of tall, yellowing grass. Canta looks into the distance where a group of little gooey creatures hop in pursuit of a very unlucky squirrel.

Slimes.

Canta remembers slimes. Wild-slimes, that is, the kind from his old life. Not the ones that were down in the dungeon. The little monsters were the very foundation of every new adventurer’s life.

The far-west has monsters in the wild, that’s what makes it different.

Only now that they have started seeing them and now that the memories have begun to return more and more to his mind, does Canta realize that there were no monsters at all in the place they had come from. He has a theory, but he can’t prove or deny it for sure. His theory is that the monsters there had all left out of fear, out of instinct. Like small animals fleeing when an apex predator arrives, all of the monsters had left after sensing the murderous presence of the demon-king.

Here in the far-west, where his influence seems weaker, they still exist. This makes Canta happy in a way he isn’t quite able to explain to Alleluia, no matter how often he tries.

Their first encounter isn’t long after that and it’s quickly over. A small, green man-creature with a knife, a goblin, emerges from the forest, flailing its weapon in all directions like a rabid, untrained combatant as it runs towards them. Yelping in surprise, Alleluia kicks it once and even Canta has to look away for a moment in disgust.

Goblins apparently have softer skulls than he remembered.

“Hold still!” barks Canta a minute later.

“Honeeey!” protests Alleluia, leaning against the tree with her legs splayed out open towards him. “It’s so gross. It’s all sticky and inside of meee~!”

“You know exactly what you’re doing,” says Canta, narrowing his eyes and pointing at her, the rag flopping out of his hand as he calls her out.

She blinks and then starts laughing, before apologizing to him. She lets him clean the goblin-brain-mush out of her ankle joints after that.

Canta does strongly consider eating the goblin, in all honesty. But by the time he finishes cleaning out Alleluia, the goopy corpse just doesn’t seem as appealing as it did before. He does take a moment to do something deeply satisfying though.

He loots it.

(Canta) found: [{4} Obols] !

Alleluia taps against the window of the menu. She’s always been perplexed by it, in a sense.

“It’s like dungeon-magic,” she wonders. “How does it work?”

“Don’t ask me, ask the universe,” says Canta, jangling the coins in his hands.

“Is that money?”

“It is,” smiles Canta, spinning his finger for her to turn around. She obliges and he puts the coins into her bag.

“Is it enough to buy a ring?”

“It’s not. I think…?” Canta ponders for a moment. Four Obols uh… that doesn’t feel like a lot, honestly. “Let’s keep an eye out for more goblins on the way,” he says, picking up the crude knife from the body.

(Canta) found: [Primitive Goblin Knife](Poor) ! [Primitive Goblin Knife](Poor) !

A simple shiv, made out of crudely smashed scrap metal. The base is wrapped with old rags.

[X] 2 DMG

[NOTE: Damage values for melee weapons will be overridden. Sin-Eaters use physicalised damage)

Weight: 0.6kg

Durability: 14/18

Value: 06

“Hmm…” she eyes him suspiciously as she gets back up. Canta swings the knife around a few times, trying to get a feel for it. It’s pretty shitty, honestly. But having a shitty weapon is better than having no weapon. He stops, realizing something as he looks at the goblin and then at Alleluia. She doesn’t use system-damage either. She just… smashed his skull into goo.

Maybe because she’s not ‘real’? But then, what does that mean about him? Canta shakes his head. He doesn’t have anywhere to tuck the knife and honestly, it’s pretty janky and sharp looking, so he doesn’t want it near his body. Instead, he uses Nina’s gift to him one more time and he cuts some straps off of the goblin’s rags, wrapping them around his left boot. He tucks the knife in there on the outside of his boot, beneath the rags.

Shaking his leg, he checks it. It seems like it will hold. He just hopes that he won’t eventually fall down sideways onto it. Nodding to Alleluia, the two of them keep going.

They find another goblin, or more aptly said, it finds them. Canta supposes that they’re perhaps an attractive target for monsters on the hunt, given their builds and appearances. This is, of course, a fatal mistake for the next goblin. He doesn’t get kicked, rather, he gets shoved to the ground and Alleluia simply crushes his skull with the bottom of her boot, as if squashing a bug. The yellow wheat all around them quickly takes on a new color, as red sprays out in all directions.

“Ah! Don’t get jealous!” she says to him. Canta rolls his eyes, bending down to loot the body.

(Canta) found: [{2} Obols] !

“Pfft, cheapskate,” mutters Canta, putting the next two coins into her bag. “You know, we’d make good adventurers,” he says to her. “We could make a real living doing this.”

“Please, I’m far too refined for such brute work. As my husband, I expect you to provide for me.”

“Fuck that,” says Canta right off the bat, pushing her boot off to the side as he keeps rummaging for more loot. “I don’t want someone who I have to dote on. I want a partner who’s gonna be with me, getting their hands dirty too,” he explains. She says nothing and Canta raises his gaze, looking up to her. He’s surprised to see that she’s smiling warmly towards him.

Another test passed. Or maybe he’s just paranoid. He doesn’t know.

The next goblin, he kills. It’s messy.

She, or it, or whatever, jumps down from behind a small rock-face, having waited for a chance to ambush someone. The jagged knife pushes right into Canta’s gut and it hurts exactly as much as he had expected it too. He pushes her off of himself, surprising the goblin with his pain tolerance, judging by her shocked expression. He reaches down to his boot and pulls out his dagger and lunges back towards the confused monster. The jagged blade finds its way to her stomach and the two of them fall to the ground, rolling and tumbling over each other, as they maim and mutilate each other’s bodies; two feral, screaming creatures entwined in something passionate, from which there is no return.

He isn’t sure if it’s a minute or just seconds, but eventually, Canta lays on his back, panting, heaving. His body and clothes are covered in blood as his many stab-wounds heal tightly shut, inch by inch, but only slowly. He hasn’t eaten a sin in weeks. He’s hungry. His hand still holds onto the blade which sits in the goblin’s heart.

Alleluia sits down on her knees behind him, pulling him up a little and resting his head on top of her lap.

“Thanks for the help,” gripes Canta sarcastically.

She strokes his head, pushing a bloody strand of hair out of his eye and his hand off of the goblin with the other. “I want a partner who’s going to get their hands dirty too,” she chimes, covering her hand with his blood as she pets his wounded head and then his sore body. “Good job, Can-ta!” she smiles.

He sighs, realizing that he walked right into that one. She hums, rubbing the sore spots on his arms and torso to help out in some way. The movements of both her hands after that are somewhat more disturbing for him however. At least at first, considering that they’re literally next to a dead monster’s body. A monster whose blood he’s covered in from head to toe literally this very second and also because they’re out in the open.

But all of those things don’t stop her and they don’t cause him to try to stop her either.

Canta can’t help but realize how truly messed up they both likely are in the head. Maybe the church is right to be after them? He stares up at the sky, wondering if maybe they aren’t the bad guys?

Nah. It’s probably fine. Maybe he’s like… the goblin version of the demon-king? Hmm…

After that, he unceremoniously eats the raw goblin. At least the parts Alleluia allows him to.

Goblin (Female) ~100g Calories: 242 *Protein: 27g Fat: 14 g Carbs: 0g Fiber: 10 g Sugars: 16 g ! High Cholesterol 80 mg ! (Canta) found: [{5} Obols] !

Canta pumps his fist, clenching the coins tightly. “We’re making a real killing!” he says.

She frowns at him, apparently not liking his joke. “That’s very tasteless, Canta. Have some respect for the dead,” she says, crossing her arms.

“Huh?!”