Chapter 325: What is “Meaning”?
‘So that’s who Rocko was…what a normal person,’ Zhen Liu thought to himself as he absorbed the information inside of the saber.
The moment he was handed that saber, a whole mess of information was injected into Zhen Liu’s brain.
It wasn’t as clean and quick as when Logos and Pathos do it, but it was comprehensive enough that Zhen Liu learned some rather important things about the nature of [Chaos].
Namely that it was mildly infectious.
Sort of.
Apparently whenever someone is attacked by a kaijin or a person using [Chaos] there is a literal one in a million chance of the target developing the ability to use [Chaos] as well.
Most of the time it either does nothing…or they explode.
That being said, he also learned that [Chaos] bestowal works a bit like vampire blood in a certain urban fantasy setting (although at this point it might mean another universe), namely that it weakens per generation. However, it can also be strengthen by the wielder via the power of [Desire]. The purer and more focused a desire, the stronger the [Chaos] inside them becomes. Evidently, that explained why the kaijin were minmaxed existences.
Speaking of kaijin, he learned that apparently their blood, as well as the blood of abominations, was actually one of the few surefire ways of developing [Chaos]…and by surefire, it had a one in ten chance of bestowing [Chaos] sans mutation, three in ten chance of causing the person to mutate into what essentially an abomination but worst and a six in ten chance of… exploding.
Again.
A lot of the consequences of mis-handling [Chaos] was just…explosions.
So…so many explosions…
Lastly, [Chaos] had a tendency to stick to objects that carry a lot of “meaning”, like heirlooms and well-cared for tools. While this wouldn’t result in a kaijin all of the time, it would cause the object in question to develop some form of sentience.
Regardless, all of this stuff he learned about [Chaos] though was secondary information to something that the saber found to be more important: the story of who Rocko was.
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*Bing-Bong*
Note that the following isn’t a full retelling of Rocko’s backstory, but instead, a summary of what Zhen Liu was told and reviewed from his point of view.
If it was a full retelling, it would take this entire chapter and the next three, and unfortunately, the writer doesn’t have SJ money nor the creative brain power of the author of a certain pirate manga to justify that.
|I will have peaked as a writer if I can get my audience to cry over a boat!|
One thing at a time, sir. One thing at a time.
*Bing-Bong*
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For all intents and purposes, Rocko was…normal, at least by this world’s standards.
Born to a rural family, a middle child among a dozen or so siblings, he decided to move out in an attempt to make his own way in the world via becoming a mercenary, adventurer if we’re being more polite.
Through saving, begging and scrounging, Rocko managed to gather up enough funds to buy a major Corporeal formula and an iron saber.
A major Corporeal formula may have been considered weak in the greater world of aether warriors, but for a farmer turned mercenary, it was enough to at least make a living.
As for the iron saber, it was merely one of a dozen made by an apprentice blacksmith. There was nothing special about it…but then again, there was nothing special about him.
Eventually, Rocko managed to make friends with two other adventures and form an official group, the Howling Beetle Boys. The fact that they were named Hocko and Pocko was simultaneously a hilarious coincidence and good fortune.
The three of them proceeded to do what any low to mid tier adventuring group would do: take jobs, get fed, get drunk, go to host clubs(?) and sleep.
It was a step-up from rural life, a tad rough at times what with the jobs sometimes being a bit too…vicious, but it helped pay the bills and it was his life.
That said, as time went on and his life eventually entred that aforementioned cycle, Rocko began to enter a mental funk of sorts and began to yearn for something…more.
More power?
More money?
More…something, he just didn’t know what it was he wanted though.
It was during this funk that his friends regaled him with a rumor of a fabulous treasure hidden within the depths of a place known as Insect Hell.
While they had all heard of the dangers of the place, what with the aforementioned giant insects, as long as the three of them worked together, there was no way anything could go wrong.
…
Things went incredibly wrong after they had gotten there.
Pocko ended up getting swallowed alive by the hideous insectoid abomination formerly known as Frederick, while both Rocko and Hocko got exposed to a weird purple mist that he released as some form of attack.
Rocko had no idea what this gas was, but he saw Hocko melt into a pile of bones and goop after inhaling the stuff so he got out of there faster than a chicken in a restaurant. Unbeknownst to him though, he had breathed in even more gas than his deceased friend…not that he would know that until much, much later.
…
This was when Rocko had first become exposed to [Chaos].
…
A little after his harrowing near-death, Rocko started vomiting purple blood.
A lot of purple blood.
He puked this stuff over plants, on the ground and even on his trusty saber by mistake.
Evidently, this was when his trusty saber got infused with [Chaos] as well, but he wouldn’t know that until later too.
The sight of the blood caused Rocko to assume he was infected with some kind of super plague, so he decided it was his duty as a good person to hide in this jungle to keep it away from the greater populace above.
He was definitely not using it as an excuse to hide away from society and his problems of existential dread…at least that’s what he told himself….that excuse eventually faded once he realized he wasn’t infected with some super plague and was just hiding down here for the sake of hiding down here.
For the next few days after that excuse was made, Rocko balanced the idea of suicide with the need to survive, until he eventually came to the conclusion he might as well make the trek across the desert and see if he could live.
If he died from the journey…well, at least he could tell the afterlife that it wasn’t, intentionally, suicide.
However, on the exact same day he had made that decision, he had to quickly reverse it.
Because on that exact same day, he would meet his future daughter, Rianna, crying in the arms of her deceased mother.
“Hey little…grub…don’t cry.”
And it was in that moment, in that impossible chance within a chance, that Rocko’s life changed.
Whether it was for better or not…that was ultimately up to him to decide, no?
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“Well…that was utterly dramatic…and apparently her name was Rianna the whole time, cool…so why share all this with me?”
“…”
“You want me to…what? Can I even do that?”
=You’d need a lot [Chaos] inside yourself to do this normally, but there’s a lot of residual from your little trick and from…that guy. Thankfully, you also just acquired a compatible core for this.=
“Yeah, but…if you’re not…you, anymore…why would you…”
“…”
“Okay, dramatic, but I get it…Are you sure about this?”
“…”
“Yeesh, talk about dotting father of the decade…alright, fine, but I take no responsibility for what happens after, comprende?”
“…”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah…hope you don’t regret it, bro.”
Zhen Liu proceeded to produce the [-Scorching- Core of Unforgotten Yearning] from within.
As he began to circulate aether and [Chaos] through the seal, Logos and Pathos instructed him on a new chant.
<=Now repeat after us: Oh fallen child of [Chaos], who's existence lingers still...=>
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‘Buuhh…can I not get knocked out anymore today?,’ Rianna thought to herself as she roused her consciousness back to the present, ‘this honestly can’t be good for my brain cells, and I just learned what those were-huh?’
As Rianna sat up from her position she noticed that a lot of activity had apparently taken place while she was out.
The last thing Rianna recalled was Zhen Liu being knocked into her because he used some kind of crazy powerful weapon to obliterate the giant insect monster that had tried to eat her multiple times.
Now, after regaining consciousness, she saw that the chamber was literred with rubble, that Zhen Liu was actively poking through said rubble and that she was laying on some rusty shields…again.
The zakos holding the shields just waved as she stared at them for a brief moment each.
‘Okay…so looks like we won…wait! Where’s papa’s…saber?’
A little aways from her position, resting on a piece of flat rubble, was a familiarly unfamiliar saber with a single folded piece of paper on it.
Written on the exterior of the paper was her name.
“It…can’t be…”
