Chương 95: Meeting Hector

The giant began scratching the back of his head, as though the question had left him utterly stumped, deep, thoughtful furrows gathering across his massive forehead, giving him the look of some old cliff face, weathered and cracked with age. — The third stage? Lloyd nearly toppled over at that response, blinking in confusion, feeling a wave of mounting anxiety rise inside him, tangled together with a tired, resigned irritation.

"This old man is clearly not all there." Lloyd scratched his chin, trying to find the right words, feeling utterly absurd standing in the middle of this endless flower field, talking to a three-meter-tall giant in a green cloak, as though he'd stumbled into some nonsensical, disjointed fairy tale. — The Administrator sent me here, A... He suddenly trailed off.

Lloyd simply couldn't recall the name, and with nothing better to offer, he started improvising, waving his hands for emphasis, trying to describe as accurately as he could the appearance of the elaborately dressed man he'd glimpsed only once, and even then only briefly. — You know, all dressed up, tons of makeup, that whole look... red robe, carries a fan...

The Old Man stared at Lloyd as though he were out of his mind, tilting his head to one side, his thick beard swaying with the motion, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully, as though trying to find some sense buried somewhere in Lloyd's words. But then Lloyd, delighted at finally remembering, shouted louder than necessary, his voice echoing across the clearing, startling a couple of tiny glowing insects that darted off in bright sparks. — Ara! Administrator Ara!

The giant kept staring at him with raised eyebrows for another couple of seconds, as though still processing what he'd heard, his gaze distant, almost absent, but then he suddenly burst into his familiar, booming laughter, shaking the nearby flowers once more, sending fine floral pollen drifting down from the palm leaves, settling onto Lloyd's shoulders in a weightless, golden dusting. — Ah, now I understand. Completely forgot about him, forgive an old man.

Lloyd's eyebrow twitched with irritation mixed with confusion, and a faint doubt stirred inside him — was it even worth trusting this strange, forgetful giant, who apparently couldn't even remember the name of his own superior, as though his memory were a sieve with impossibly wide holes.

"He's definitely not all there." The Old Man cleared his throat, the sound coming out so loud it resembled distant thunder rolling across the entire clearing, making even the palm trees standing off to the side tremble, their broad leaves shivering as though caught in a gust of wind, even though the air around them remained perfectly still, as though the very atmosphere of this place had frozen in anticipation.

This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. — I suppose introductions are in order first. I'm Hector. And what's your name, young man?

Lloyd brushed off the blue petals still clinging to his clothes and hair, a few of them drifting off his shoulders, spinning through the air like tiny blue butterflies, slowly settling back into the grass, and answered, trying to sound more confident than he actually felt, straightening his back and squaring his shoulders. — Lloyd.

Suddenly Hector reached a hand behind one of the palm trees, rustling something within the thick foliage, the wide branches swaying, casting large, oval shadows that slid across the ground like living creatures, and Lloyd could only watch with wide, wary eyes, ready to jump back at any moment if something dangerous emerged from the underbrush, though after everything he'd survived these past three days, it was hard to imagine anything that could frighten him more than what he'd already seen.

— I think this'll help us out. Hector pulled out a bottle of some drink, dark, almost black, resembling expensive, strong liquor more than anything else, the glass etched with an intricate design of intertwining grapevines that glinted even in this dim light, along with two ordinary shot glasses that looked, in his massive hand, exactly like miniature toy cups, pinched between two fingers barely visible against the rest of his far larger palm.

Lloyd was about to decline, politely shaking his head, but the Old Man proved far too insistent — he immediately set the glass down right in front of Lloyd with a dull thud, pressing its glass base into the soft earth, his entire demeanor making it abundantly clear that a refusal wouldn't sit well with him, his gaze growing sharper, almost demanding, eyebrows drawing together into a stern expression that brooked no argument, sending yet another unpleasant chill down Lloyd's spine.

"Then again, who in their right mind could say no to a giant like this." They drank in silence, one glass each. Lloyd nearly gagged — the taste was so vile, so scorching, that his throat felt as though it had caught fire from the inside, involuntary tears welling in his eyes, burning and stinging, rolling down his cheeks in hot streaks.

Lloyd coughed, spitting onto the grass, gasping greedily for air, his face flushing red all the way to his ears, his tongue hanging out, as though that might somehow ease the burning, fanning it with his free hand like a makeshift fan, trying desperately to cool his scorched mouth. His stomach twisted into an unpleasant knot, and a strange, searing warmth immediately spread through his veins, rising from somewhere in his chest straight up to his temples.

The whole scene looked rather comical from the outside, prompting Hector to burst once more into his booming, resonant laughter, echoing across the endless clearing, scattering yet another swarm of glowing insects that shot off in every direction in bright sparks, like a tiny firework blooming right there in midair. — I take it you didn't enjoy that much.

Lloyd, his face crimson and tongue still hanging out, nodded rapidly, unable to form a single word, his eyes watering, his throat still burning as though he'd swallowed a live coal whole. Hector, meanwhile, calmly downed another glass, this time alone, without so much as a wince, as though drinking pure spring water rather than this hellish, fiery concoction, only letting out a satisfied grunt afterward, wiping his mustache with the back of his hand.

Before pouring himself a third, he gave the glass a gentle swirl, watching the dark liquid slosh near the rim, rippling in small, dark waves that reflected the dim, even light of the fake sky hanging over this whole strange, flower-covered clearing, as though considering where best to begin the conversation. — Tell me about yourself.