The Last Legendary System

Lyra met his gaze. "To find the Primordial Core."

A heartbeat strummed within Benign’s chest. He hid his surprise that she knew about the core. "Very well. They seem capable."

It made sense that the ones suffering the glitches knew that they had been abandoned by the gods and the core responsible for the balance had gone missing.

Lyra looked away from him slowly. For the elves, she gave a rather informal introduction of the soldier. Even omitting his name.

"He’s a Protector. He even beat our young prodigy, Raze." She whispered in a gossipy tone, nudging Stun again. "He also has helpful tricks, so don’t worry too much."

Stun nodded once, as if the information was sufficient, and he would gladly put his life on the line for the stranger.

Vergil wrote down every word, underlining the ones he deemed important. Protector. Helpful tricks. As he let go of the feathered pen, the book slapped shut, and all items remained afloat beside him.

Both elves made a curt bow to Benign, and he awkwardly nodded.

Afterward, Lyra handed a ready-to-travel bag to Benign. "Worth at least five days, if you eat twice a day. Don’t forget to tell your quarters that Kiron Station assisted you when you return."

"I won’t." Stretching a hand, Benign bidded. "See you when I see you, Lyra."

She gripped his hand firmly, and they shook. "Till next time, Protector."

Again, Benign noted she didn’t call him by name. He smiled.

The trio was ready to set out.

Looking back at the station before stepping out into the harsh deserts, Benign found the entirety of the Kiron station around the entrance to see them off — or more accurately, to see their elf kin off.

While wondering how quickly they appeared, he spotted the huge warrior he fought earlier. Raze.

The boy raised his hand again, in the same childlike manner, even if he was easily identifiable. Benign waved back.

From a young prodigy to another young prodigy, he understood the flaws of growing up quickly with mounting expectations. While the teenager still had the chance to live freely, he should savor it.

He took his first step out of the comfort haven into the harsh desert, which greeted him with sand in his eyes and dry lips a second in.

"Take care, you three!" were the last words from Lyra before the entrance sealed shut.

The men stood still amidst the skin-tearing wind, dry hot sand, and scorching sun with no words exchanged. The difference could be felt immediately. Benign cradled the read-to-travel bag in front of him as a shield.

Thinking back on the elves by the entrance reminded Benign of his little town, wishing him good luck when he was accepted to the military during his first war.

After his last family died, he left for good and never returned but heard they were in good health. It was enough.

Their long life and good health was the reason an orphan boy from a poor town volunteered for war in the first place.

"Don’t worry, Stun, Vergil." He looked each elf in the eye as he called their names. "I will do my best to make sure you all return to your families."

He patted the shoulders of the elf men with him. They turned to him, loosening their stiffened bodies, and slowly nodded.

"Would you tell us your name, good sir?" It was Vergil.

"I assumed you’ll call me ’Protector’ all through our acquaintanceship since your Lady didn’t bother."

"Haa, please." Vergil strummed his fingers in the air. "Lady Lyra is the only one with such an absurd preference for a pretty name. Bad habit, I always tell her. As one with a rather stoic name, not befitting for my rather refined and knowledge-hungry self, shall I rename myself and forsake my mother’s dying wish for her son to be named Vergil?" He said the last sentence in one breath.

He exhaled, then added strongly. "No. I shall not. I would eagerly forsake my father’s dying wish for me to be a warrior than forsake my poor mother’s desire to be named Vergil."

Benign blinked once. Then twice. Vergil’s sassy, dramatic way of speaking oddly amused him. ’He sounds like those politicians arguing over the soldier’s monthly allowance while never setting foot on the battlefield. On and on they go.’

Beside him, Stun didn’t look fondly at Vergil. "Speak like you want to be understood. You speak too quickly." He muttered under his breath. "Of course, you’ll disregard your father’s dying wish. With what muscles would you become a warrior?"

Benign watched them shoot the other glares. The harshness of the surroundings felt negligible with the diversity in personality the two elves brought.

"Benign Cross," he answered the question hanging in the air. He tipped an imaginary hat. "Nice to properly make your acquaintance."

"Likewise." They chorused, sparing him a polite bow, before returning to staring the other down.

Benign gazed at the desert with renewed hope. Within this strange land, a unit was coming together.

"Are you still there, Lego?" he whispered.

[I’ll always be available... when I want to be.]

"When would you want to be?" Benign scoffed. A sassy flair was acceptable for a bookworm elf, but not his system in the slightest. Now he had a clue on his next course of action, it was fine to work the machine to the bone. "Find where Kamon station is."

[What do you plan to achieve there? Is that the next clue?]

"Go to work instead of asking questions. I just need it sorted out while you’re still sane."

There was no reply from Lego.

Benign turned to the elf men watching him. The distance he unconsciously made while communicating with his system made them stop and return their attention to him.

"So Vergil, what do you know about the glitches?"

A scroll fell into Vergil’s hand from nowhere. He cleared his throat. "Allow me, good sir." His expression grew serious when he started reading. "According to the history of the realms, this isn’t the first appearance of glitches in our realm."

"Elaborate."

"While it is the first time the glitches started on small scales, there was a time numerous realms glitched to a different place. Lost within time and space. The only surviving realms were Noria and Olien." Vergil adjusted his scroll and continued. "But Karnak was returned to the balance by a Protector and Progenitor, Ashold Creeve. The other realms never made—"

"Wait, what?" Benign interrupted. "Ashold Creeve? The Protagonist of Lost in Cicada Kingdom..."

His fingers dug into his hair.

The realization washed over him like a violent wave filled with a swarm of crabs, each claw vying for a piece of his flesh. His arms cradled the bag even closer. His eyes remained wide open.

’Did I... really... transmigrate into a novel? THAT NOVEL?!’