"…Thanks," he said instead.
"No problem," the normal one replied. "Stick near the edges if you can't fight."
"I can fight," Ah'Ming said reflexively, then immediately regretted it.
They both looked at him again.
The mossy one smiled, slow and knowing. "Sure you can."
Above them, somewhere deep in the library, a clock began to tick louder.
The lights dimmed by a fraction.
The hour was getting close.
Though.
Instead of looking for clues though, like a smart person would, he leaned back over to them to ask more. Like, a not so smart person.
"Soooo. Are you able to access the forum in-game? Are ups able to access the forum outside the game?"
They looked at him. He looked at them.
They gave up first.
"are you seriously not able to? Everyone can?!"
Well.
That didn't sound very good.
Maybe it was another system glitch. A bug, maybe?
Shame.
Maybe there was a shop too! Imagine, a marketplace where you could buy a flamethrower. No! A magic flamethrower. A draconic flame thrower. With extra juice!
oho! He couldn't wait.
Ah'Ming looked up at the two, just to see them inching away from him. What? Why? He had been perfectly polite this time! He hadn't even threatened them so why where they-
Oh.
Wait.
A player would be able to access the forums.
An NPC likely would not.
They probably thought he was an NPC, didn't they?
Oh dear! What if they told the others, and he was ostracized! Ah'Ming needed friends, he was an extrovert at heart! Actually, not really. He hated talking much. But, he liked having friends that would talk for him.
Just like how if someone messed up your orders in a WcDonald's, and then you could have a big, strong friend go up to demand the order fixed. What a hero! A hero that Ah'Ming might not be able to get…. Because of them.
It was ok, he'd just have to nip it in the bud during the shadow time!
Ah'Ming read the clock again, noting how it was close to quarter to. He crept back away from the main group, heading back to the thick maze of shelves. Mm. now that he thought about it, the dusty smell didn't bother him so much. It was rather nice, even.
Once the people were out of sight, he smacked a hand on a shelf, testing the structural integrity. One smack, then a second. Pretty sound actually!
Ah'Ming would respect a good shelf.
Grabbing onto the highest shelf he could reach, which was about halfway up with a little hop, he swung himself to the top, perching on it like a weird bird. If a bird could have arms and legs. Did birds have arms?
Maybe he was more like spoderman then.
The people looked pretty tiny from here, Ah'Ming noticed. They scurried about, with a main table covered in documents. What they were, he couldn't even begin to fathom.
Clues? Wow, the people must have been very dedicated to searching if they'd already found so much.
He looked over them. They looked like ants.
It was almost a funny subversion.
From up here, the library looked different.
Corridors branched away between shelves like ribs, narrow passages bending out of sight. Little archways and doorframes hid in corners, half-swallowed by books. Some led down. Some led nowhere obvious at all.
As the clock ticked, some people started counting, softly. Under their breaths. Almost like a little reassurance that they knew what to do, that they were in control.
It was pretty funny to watch.
B-Ah'Ming looked around, noting some other corridors and little gateways that led away. Something glinted, just a little over there. He leaned closer, trying to peer into a door in the corner. It wasn't that clear though. Shame.
His vision always hadn't been the best, being able to track motion from hundreds of meters away, yet never being able to see anything else about it. Not color, not detail.
Not to say it wasn't good, though.
He leaned just a little bit further… it was almost in sight….
And then he had to catch himself before he fell off.
As Ah'Ming scrabbled to stay atop the shelf like the king of the shelf he was, the lights shut off.
Not dimmed.
Not flickered.
Gone.
The lamps across the library died in unison, plunging everything into a thick, swallowing dark. The kind of darkness that felt textured, like it had weight.
Someone below screamed.
Another voice shouted for quiet and immediately regretted it.
The ticking of the grandfather clock boomed through the space, suddenly enormous.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
Ah'Ming froze.
From his perch, he could still see motion.
Shadows peeled themselves off the shelves.
Not creatures exactly. More like absences shaped roughly like people, stretching and folding as they moved. They slid along the floor, climbed the tables, clung to walls where light had once lived.
One passed directly beneath him.
It paused.
The shadow tilted its head, as if sniffing. Its edges rippled, reacting to something he couldn't see.
Fear, he realized.
Noise. Fear.
Below, someone ran.
The shadows surged.
He watched patterns form.
They moved toward panic. Toward motion. Toward the loudest regrets. Made sense. Bomber units did too. So did soldiers and runners.
The center of the library exploded into chaos.
And in the darkness, very faintly, that door in the corner glinted again.
Ah'Ming's gaze flicked between the chaos below and the faint, patient glint in the corner.
Help… or answers.
The sensible part of his brain whispered that the shiny thing was probably important. Plot-relevant. Possibly life-saving in the long term. Also. Shiny. Shiny was a very important factor to factor in. That was why it was called a factor.
The rest of him sighed.
"…Fine," he muttered. "I'll be good. Temporarily."
Though the two stupid people had gotten on his nerves, possibly alienating him in the future, he couldn't help but admit that they had helped him by answering questions. He'd protect their stupid base camp, just a little, not much, and maybe or maybe not getting rid of them if he had the chance.
He stayed on the shelf.
Not charging in. Not grandstanding. Just… present.
he would be a good person this time. he would stay and defend. not really defend though, since he'd only kill the ones that would attack him first, but it should reduce the burden on the rest, albeit briefly. a couple of shadows looked up at him as they wandered, wondering if he was an easy target.
A deterrent.
Shadows drifted, testing the edges of the space. A few passed beneath him and then recoiled, their forms warping sharply, like smoke meeting heat. They pulled back, uncertain, offended.
Ah'Ming frowned.
"Huh."
It was annoying, to fight things that had a modicum of intelligence. He greatly preferred stupid things that could only run. Like pigs. Pigs were great. They tasted good, and they were stupid.
Others slowed, their movements cautious now, as if they'd brushed against something they didn't understand.
Then one shadow looked up at him and made a decision.
It didn't recoil.
What a brave little idiot, Bu-Ah'Ming almost cooed. The little shadow was so, so brave.
Its shape tightened, edges sharpening, hunger compressing into intent. It began to climb, slow and deliberate, dragging itself up the shelf supports like it was savoring the anticipation.
Ah'Ming felt the rest of the library recede. Excitement thrummed in his veins, singing a little song that brought the rest of him to life.
The shouting. The running. The ticking clock. All of it faded into a distant hush, like someone had turned the volume down on the world.
He watched the shadow approach.
It wanted him afraid. Wanted the tremor, the hesitation, the flinch. If it was like he suspected, the monsters probably fed on fear. Like Dracula. (Author note: IK Dracula doesnt feed on fear, it's just our resident bug is a little dumb. Bear with him)
Why else would all the NPCs so far be so stupidly scary?
It was funny though, knowing that the little, itty bitty creatures wanted him scared.
He licked his lips instead.
The brave little shadow surged.
Ah'Ming moved, a little forwards, a little to the left.
His hand shot forward, flesh rippling and splitting without pain, fingers elongating into something hooked and blackened, claws catching the shape of the thing mid-lunge. He drove his arm straight through its chest. It was silky. It was oh, so fun. After such a long time of- No! No homocidal thoughts! Amanda The Therapist talked about this. No finding dead things fun.
Otherwise, she'd be therapissed.
He snickered.
The shadow screamed.
A sound came, like tearing silk and shattering glass layered together, high and furious.
Then it came apart.
The darkness unraveled around his arm, fraying into nothing, dissolving into the air like breath in winter.
Gone.
completely.
Ah'Ming blinked.
"…That's it?"
Nothing dropped. No core. No residue. No neat little reward. Not even like, a level up or EXP gained? Maybe players weren't meant to kill NPCs or something.
Weird.
He pulled his arm back, watching as the claws melted away, skin smoothing over until his hand was once again ordinary. Pink. Human. Slightly trembling now that the moment had passed.
"…Huh," he repeated.
It was sooo hard, using this new ability. He needed to keep a tight, tight grasp on it at all times.
He turned his attention back to the library.
From his vantage point, he could see everything.
The shadows skirting wide around him now. The way his presence carved out a thin, invisible buffer in the dark. People stumbling through it, gasping, surviving by accident as the creatures diverted away. Hehe, idiots.
Lights stayed off.
No phone screens. No emergency torches. Nothing.
Funky.
Ah'Ming was pretty sure that most humans couldn't see in the dark. Maybe they were like a master earth bender or something. Maybe they were blind?
He did wonder why nobody was smart enough to light something.
Were they that stupid? Or maybe he was just that smart.
He nodded.
And then remembered the system rating of his intelligence.
…
fine.
Maybe it was against the rules.
Maybe the shadows ate light.
Maybe the system just enjoyed watching people panic in the dark.
The clock kept ticking.
And somewhere, unseen, the viewer count ticked upward too.
So he sat.
Crouched on his shelf, legs dangling, fingers drumming against old wood that had probably seen three apocalypses and a quiet divorce. The darkness stretched on. The clock ticked. Shadows learned to give him a wide berth, like animals that had memorized the shape of a trap.
It was… dull. Super boring.
Painfully so.
"…This is it?" he whispered. "This is the thrilling content arc?"
He sighed, resting his chin in his palm.
For someone allegedly being live-broadcast to twelve thousand plus beings, the interface was stingy. No barrage. No scrolling commentary. No little pop-ups telling him his form was mid or his timing was off.
He looked again.
oooh… it was up to seventeen grand. Must have been there for his charming looks, if he did say so himself.
That did kind of emphasize his pain too. Seventeen thousand, yet still no streamer perks?
Honestly disappointing.
"Maybe it unlocks at a higher level," he mused. "Viewer interaction DLC."
Maybe even tips!
He watched, detached, as others flailed through the dark below. Screams cut short. People scrambling into clusters. Someone shouting orders that dissolved into static panic. He could almost smell a tangy, iron scent.
It was a lot sweeter that the rusty crap from the kitchen. This was fresh, heavy, sinking to the floor and pooling there. At least it kept the cooling bodies rather warm! Everything had uses, just like f- algebra class.
He was hungry.
and bored.
Very bored.
You know what?
He'd done his good deed.
One shadow. Clean kill. No loot, but still. More than most.
He stretched, bones popping softly. "Alright. Altruism quota met."
Since he'd been such a good little bu- uh., person, it meant that he was free to go and explore! Yes, since that was totally how it worked.
That was when he noticed movement that didn't fit the pattern.
Two figures slipping away from the chaos, keeping low, deliberate. Not running. Not panicking. Just… leaving.
His vision snapped to attention.
The way they moved. The cadence. The familiar shorthand of bodies that had trained together, reacted together.
Ah'Ming straightened.
"…No way."
They passed through a side corridor, shadows parting for them like they knew better than to interfere.
Very, very familiar silhouettes.
His breath caught.
They walked a bit further, his eyes tracked them further.
they crept a little further, he watched them go.
when they were far enough, he jumped down and put them to sleep. Forever.
Eh. They'd be fine.
Step. Step. Step.
Very confident steps.
Almost… almost sauntering steps.
Then, suddenly!
Light.
(Almost like some complete pain announced for the world to just make Ah'Ming's day worse.)
All at once, the lamps roared back to life.
Ah'Ming hissed and slapped a hand over his eyes as the world went violently white, his vision collapsing into useless static. Motion still registered, shapes flaring and darting, but detail vanished completely.
"…Ow, ow, ow," he muttered, blinking furiously.
It took a few seconds. Maybe longer. Time was slippery in here.
When his eyes finally adjusted enough for the world to stop screaming at him, he didn't stick around to admire the lighting.
Voices echoed nearby.
Footsteps. Many of them. The sweep. People spreading out now that the shadows were gone, emboldened, hungry for answers. Complete bloodhounds for clues. Seriously, what did a guy have to do for some peace and quiet (and dark) around here?
Ah'Ming slipped sideways between shelves, picked up speed just a little, then a little more. Not running. Running attracted attention. This was a controlled retreat.
He reached the corner.
The glint waited.
Up close, it was… disappointing.
A notch in the wall. Faded gold paint. Scratches where something heavy had once rested. A broken torch hanger, snapped clean off long ago.
He stared at it.
"…That's it?"
No glow. No prompt. No helpful arrow. Just an empty mount like a missing tooth.
"Were you supposed to be symbolic?" he asked it. "Because that's rude."
He reached out and touched it.
Nothing.
No vibration. No warmth. No system screen congratulating him for being clever.
He fiddled with it. Pressed. Twisted. Tugged. Checked the edges for hidden switches, secret seams, narrative mercy.
Still nothing.
If it was another puzzle…. With a clear indent to put a torch….
His patience evaporated.
"…You know what," he said, tone flat. "No."
Finding a torch was work.
Waiting for the puzzle to explain itself was work.
He squared his shoulders.
Then punched the wall.
Not a full wind-up. Just a sharp, decisive strike, knuckles driving forward with practiced ease. The impact landed with a wet, splintering crack that absolutely did not sound like stone should. Or maybe, he was just that strong.
Either way, the wall caved.
Plaster, wood, and something fibrous exploded inward as his fist tore straight through, leaving a jagged hole rimmed with dust and torn paper. Books nearby rattled violently. Somewhere behind him, someone shouted. Hehe, suckers.
Ah'Ming pulled his hand back, shook off debris, and leaned in to peer through the opening.
Beyond the wall was darkness again.
"…Huh," he said. He pondered. Like a sage.
Behind him, footsteps were getting closer.
Ah'Ming straightened, brushed his sleeve, and glanced once more at the broken torch hanger.
"Should've worked," he told it mildly.
Then he slipped through the hole he'd made, disappearing into whatever the library had been hiding, just as voices rounded the corner and found the mess he'd left behind.
////////
Ah'Ming jumped in with very high expectations.
Not like, high expectations, exactly, but at least something genre-appropriate. A chest. A relic. A sword humming faintly with ominous promise. Even a cryptic plaque would've been nice. Maybe even gold coins that had been undiscovered for a century, finally uncovered by a dashing adventurer.
Instead, he landed in a tunnel.
Stone, rough-hewn and damp, pressing in close on either side. The air smelled old in a different way than the library. Less paper, more earth. Gross earth. More time. Water dripped somewhere ahead, slow and patient, each plink echoing like it had nowhere better to be. (Unlike Ah'Ming, who could have been curled up cozily in his apparent room at a resort).
Actually, he remembered reading somewhere that water droplets not only increased an ominous mood, but were proven to to prone to give people nightmares if heard at night. It was good that this was in the library. If the little drops where in Ah'Ming's room? Oh dear.
Still though, the supposedly adventurous adventure didn't seem to be proving exciting.
Maybe that was why everything here was so weak, if all of the so-called challenges where at this level.
"…Wow," he said dryly. "Secret area my ass." Oop- bad words again. Whoops. Amanda the therapist would have his head.
He walked.
Footsteps scuffed against gritty… grit. The tunnel sloped gently downward, just enough to keep him moving forward without noticing until too late. His hand brushed the wall, coming away cold and even grittier. Medieval dungeon chic. Very authentic. Zero rewards. Unfortunately, it would be a three star on yelp, at best.
At the end, the tunnel widened into a small stone alcove.
Surprisingly, it was lit by torches. Those were actually the first detachable light sources he'd seen all day, at this library.
The rest had been either the ceiling lights, too far to reach unless he climbed the walls (why would he? He could see in the dark just fine), or the little antique lights that were attached to some of the shelves. He'd imagine that there were more lights, attached to real walls, but at the moment the only walls present were ones that boxed off little areas.
Even the wall he'd broken in, to find this tunnel had been boxed off, in a little alcove. He was sure that if he walked around it, only more shelves were to be seen.
The torches though, perhaps they could be removed. They were very bright, yet somehow left entire patches of the alcove covered in nothing but shadow.
In the shadows….
Something moved.
Ah'Ming stopped instantly.
Not because it was fast. Not because it was threatening.
Because it was small.
A little shadow huddled in the corner, knees drawn up, arms wrapped tight around itself. It flinched when he stepped closer, a sharp, instinctive recoil that made his chest tighten.
"…Hey," he said, softly now.
The light from behind him spilled just enough to reveal details.
A child.
Thin. Filthy. Clothes torn and stained with things he didn't want to identify. Dark hair matted to their face. One eye swollen shut, the other staring too wide, too alert.
Breathing.
Alive.
Ah'Ming froze.
Every warning bell he had went off at once, clanging so loudly it drowned out the dripping water.
Not a player.
No system tag. No interface shimmer. No aura of narrative importance. Just… a kid. Hurt. Terrified.
This place did not generate things like that without reason. (At least, that's what Ah'Ming thought even if he'd only been there for… half a day?)
His hand twitched, instinctively half-ready to become something else, something sharper.
"…Okay," he murmured to himself. "Okay. Slow."
He crouched a little, keeping his distance.
"It's alright," he said, then winced internally. Great job. Classic useless line.
The child didn't respond. Didn't cry. Didn't speak. Just watched him like a cornered animal, eyes tracking every micro-movement.
Ah'Ming swallowed.
This isn't a reward, he thought. This is a test.
And he hated that most of all.
Because if this thing was bait, then the trap wasn't teeth or shadows or darkness.
He glanced back toward the tunnel. Toward the hole he'd punched into the library wall. Toward the instance, the clock, the waves, the people who were probably congratulating themselves on surviving another cycle.
Then he looked back at the child.
"…You're not supposed to be here," he said quietly. "Neither am I, technically."
The child's fingers tightened in their sleeve.
Little fingers, almost similar to claws, hooked before climbing into sleeves. Ah'Ming almost cooed.
Ah'Ming exhaled, slow and careful.
He crept closer, with his hands held up and open to show no weapons in grasp. Slowly though, to not startle the kid. He had a neighbor once, who'd been a vet. Not a great one, but one good enough to smack Ah'Ming when he'd tried to pick up a cat right up and fast.
He'd gotten scratched by the cat too.
Lovely little evil things.
But, that was how he'd learned. When encountering a skittish creature, you had to be slow and gentle.
Wait.
Did kids count as creatures?
By the time Ah'Ming had broken out of his musings, he'd been right up next to the kid. He crouched down low, trying to get to eye level with the child.
"Hey, hey buddy?" Never let it be said that he didn't try.
The kid looked at him. His smile faltered.
Geez, it was really hard to talk nice to something so tiny.
How old were kids who were about up to his chest?
Strange.
The kid narrowed his eyes at Ah'Ming, almost as if it thought he was weird.
Which he wasn't.
It stood up, on little shaking legs. Almost like a little fawn! It would have been adorable, if the kid had not only looked both gloomy and scary. His eyes looked pretty creepy too, pupils too large, covering half of the eyeball. It was basically a large sign, screaming NPC!!!!
But still, it didn't mean that the kid was the main ghost of the sub-scenario. Should Ah'Ming bring him to the rest of the group?
What if they decided to kill him or something?
It wasn't really Ah'Ming's problem anyways though. He really wanted out of here. He wanted to go, and relax deeply in his suite, even with it's admittedly creepy and unlucky number.
Ah'Ming tilted his head, offering his hand to the little kid once more. The little bugger was shy, socially anxious, just like the also-not-meant-to-be-there person that was standing in front of them.
The kid, finally, after hesitating a long time, took his outstretched invitation.
He took faltering little steps, unstable after a seemingly long time of not walking. Anyways, it was clear the kid had no caretaker. The only question was, how he was alive after so long. More points towards the ghost theory, but the sub-story clearly wouldn't have such a brilliant red-herring. Would it?
Ah'Ming smiled at the kid, who merely glared back. "So, wanna go meet the rest of the group?"
a hesitant nod was his only answer.
Welp.
He suddenly realized something.
"can you even walk?"
the kids legs looked really skinny. Maybe it was something normal kids were like, being really gangly. Though, it didn't look like the kid could support himself.
In one smooth motion, he pulled the kid up, and over his shoulder. For his own sake, the kid kicked a massive fuss, thrashing and screaming. Though, he'd have to do it a lot stronger to even make an effect.
He was even screaming and screeching darling little threats. Ooh, entrails expulsion! Oh, they grow up so fast.
At least he knew the child wouldn't die fast, if he had this much energy.
Humming and skipping, Ah'Ming made his way back up the slippery tunnel of doom and medieval-ness, trying to chat with the kid on the way.
"So, kiddo, do you have a name?"
the child blinked at him. Hate filled eyes (well, eye. The other was still stolen shut) glared at Ah'Ming, even though he had no idea what the cause was.
"Obviously."
Ah'Ming: "Can you tell it to me?"
the kid narrowed his eyes (eye) even further.
Ah'Ming: "Will you tell it to me?"
"No."
Ah'Ming gasped in mild outrage, playing up his hurt from the rude remark. For a few seconds, the kid looked alarmed, then apologetic. It was a brief few seconds, since the kid was smart enough to realize that Ah'Ming was mostly just a loud idiot. (Normally, he was a quiet idiot, but little kids kind of had a duty to listen to adults be stupid. Most adults were.)
Sniffling, as if grievously wounded, he asked "is it…. Is it because i'm old?"
Not that he really was that old anyways. In fact, he'd only been on earth for a few years!
At least the kid didn't look very mulish anymore. Just confused, and somehow exasperated.
Hmm. Somehow, Ah'Ming seemed to have that kind of effect on people.
If only he was able to cultivate the same aura that the tamer guy had. Cool, suave, charming. Even if they were both lookers, in Ah'Ming's opinion, the tamer's vibe was just… on another level. Part of it was clearly from his skill, yet the other? Maybe it was just inborn charisma.
The kid went back to ignoring him.
Exiting the rough, scattered debris that had once been a wall, Ah'Ming sauntered cheerfully, trying (and failing) to navigate his way back to the main table. It wasn't truly his fault, since the bookshelves sprawled in an increasingly complicated labyrinth, likely by design. It really would help pick off any stragglers during the night. Well, the dark period. It did kind of seem like day and night, if you ignored the fact that day was only forty-five minuted, and that night was even shorter.
Voices echoed, not in the distance, but it did provide a very enlightening piece of information of where the others were. He walked faster. It was still a little bit slow though, so he started running.
Before long, Ah'Ming was back at the main table. A lot of people were still there, seemingly rooted in place. Almost as if they'd never even left in the first place. Cowards.
He smiled, walked up to the tamer man, and offered the child up like a prize. Funnily enough, the pose was reminiscent of the samba pose. Though, instead of awe and inspiration, the kid was met with disgust, and almost fear.
"I found a child!"
the tamer looked visibly confused.
He coughed a few times.
"Ahem. Where? Where did you find the child?"
Ah'Ming blanked.
He could sort of tell that it wasn't a very good idea to tell people that he punched through a wall. For one thing, he sort of felt that it wasn't very looked well upon by the system, or the sub-stories.
It was rather understandable. Why cat out (not-so) intricate plot lines with (boring) characters if the way to solve it was to punch through a wall?
"um. I saw a torch stand, so I put a torch in it. The wall opened up, and there was the kid?"
there were quite a lot of hushed whispers now, which Ah'Ming really couldn't understand. He'd hidden his strength, and found an important NPC. What was there to complain about?
The tamer smiled, and Ah'Ming nearly felt his breath catch. He could tell the man everything, there was no way that the tamer would be cruel to him? Obviously, a man who had gained the trust of so many people would be strong, Living for the tamer would be ju-
Wait.
That didn't seem right.
He squinted.
"Did you just try to use mind-magic on me?" He gasped, in faux-outrage.
The tamer's eyes widened considerably, almost shocked that Ah'Ming had even been able to notice, let alone throw It off.
A woman next to the tamer laughed nervously. "Ah, honey, we don't do that here. We only use skills on monsters, or sometimes NPCs!"
another player chimed in. "Yeah! Nobody would use a skill on another player!"
Ah'Ming kind of assumed that if you weren't meant to use skills on other players, you weren't meant to kill them either. Rather counter-intuitive, if the system really was a massive game like it seemed. What would happen if there was a battle royal, or a were-wolf game?
At this point though, it seemed the child was fed up with him. He kept banging on Ah'Ming's arms, demanding to be let down.
"Let… Let me down!"
Ah'Ming looked down at the child, and did as it bade.
The kid landed in an undignified heap on the ground.
Ah'Ming looked back at the tamer, raising an eyebrow. "Say, now what?"
the tamer sighed, softly, and almost immediately, the entire group seemed to shift, single-mindedly deciding to dislike Ah'Ming for the sole reason of disappointing the tamer.
"Listen, pal. I'm a ranked player, and I know what to do. You have a key NPC right there, you should hand him over."
okay then. Ah'Ming's opinion of this guy just dropped from 55% (on one hand, he was rather good looking. On the other hand he was mean, and had used mind magic on him.) to barely above zero.
He sniffled, still pretend hurt. "Hey kid, d'you wanna hang out with me? Or him?"
the child looked at Ah'Ming, then looked back at the tamer.
He took a hesitating step towards the tamer.
Rats.
He'd forgotten.
Taming skill.
Right.
Suddenly though, the kid stopped. He halted, with his eyebrows furrowed. He looked back at Ah'Ming, confused and uncertain.
He tried to reach back but-
The rest of the group had already surrounded him, pulling him away.
It was similar to how ants swarmed a drop of honey. Or, more similarly, humans to a lotto ticket. Fear and knowledge that it would do more harm than good, yet still walking closer, crowding around.
At first, the people there, the followers, had ben afraid. Why had they suddenly changed their minds? Ah'Ming glanced back at the tamer, who was now blocked by many layers of people. From the knowing look in his eyes? Ah'Ming knew that all the sentences he'd heard about not using skills on players was absolute bull.
Ah'Ming rolled his eyes, and walked away.