Weeaboo's Unfortunate Isekai: The Necromancer's Gacha

“Breaking the rules of the world? I’m sure that’s not a thing.” Versai shook her head, even as she sat down next to me.

I rolled my eyes at her. “So what would you call what Sebastian and Jim were doing?”

She thought about that for a moment. “Taking advantage of a hitherto unknown feature of how the world worked?”

“Ah, it’s not cheating, it’s just using the entire rulebook. Spoken like a true Patriots fan.” I grumbled. Not that I knew the first thing about football, but you live in the City, you hear things.

“Tower Master?” I waved her off.

“Let’s play a little game. It’s called ‘I don’t want to talk about it.’ The way we play is simple. I ask a question with a yes or no answer. If you can, answer it yes or no as appropriate. If you don’t want to talk about it, say “I don’t want to talk about it.” Clear so far?”

“Yes, Tower Master. Though I don’t see the point.”

“There is an extra rule coming. Let’s start, and you will see why I just love playing games.”

I coughed. “Your name is Versai?”

“Yes.”

“Your Name is Versai ferch Gradden?”

“I don’t… yes.” She looked a little surprised, as did I.

“Oh interesting. It looks like whatever is running things realizes that information no longer makes sense to keep gated. That’s both useful… and alarming.”

“How so?” She asked, looking pretty alarmed.

“More adaptive means harder to break, and it’s more likely that our exploit gets stopped. Possibly violently.”

“Ah.”

“You are the daughter of the Marquess of Gradden March?”

“Yes.”

Huh. I had thought that would trigger it. Wait… wasn't that in her character bio? Alright, let’s push a little harder.

“Your father was a successful general in the war against the monsters?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” She looked firm, then surprised. Then a little horrified.

“Yep. Starting to see it?”

“Tower Master, I…”

“You experienced it before, but I bet you ‘forgot’ about it. One of those rules of the world. For example, you still don’t care to get too emotionally attached to me.”

“No. No disrespect, but you all tend to die on me.”

“Really? With everything? I’ve taken you to the fifth day, shown you more things than any other Tower Master, brought you back to that… parody cutout version of Gradden Marche, and you still feel nothing for me?”

I tried not to let on how much that hurt. Reminding myself that it wasn’t her fault, it was the programming. Even though I could still feel her fingers wrapped around my throat and I’d never forget the icy contempt in her eyes. I tried to remember it was just… what they made her. That it wasn’t really her.

It still hurt. Deep breath. Stiff upper lip. Devil-may-care, not some whiney Protag-Kun.

“No, of course I don’t want to talk about it.” She concluded firmly. The look of horror on her face got wider.

“I don’t mean to be a jerk, Versai. This is all to show why we need the final rule. When you want to say “I don’t want to talk about it,” you can choose your inflection and pacing. You don’t say it identically every time.”

“I don’t?”

“Nope. If you don’t want to talk about it, but if you did want to talk about it the answer would be yes, say, “I don’t WANT to talk about it. And if the answer would be no, say “I DON’T want to talk about it.” I was careful to really hammer down which words got the emphasis.

“I… understand, but I don’t know if it will work.”

“Let’s find out. Your father was a successful general in the war on the Monsters?”

“I don’t WANT to talk about it.” Her eyes lit up with joy. We shared a villainous grin.

At which point my brain locked up, because of course it did. I… definitely had questions for Versai, didn’t I? Like… something. Move on to other topics, I’m sure something will come up as we chat.

“Alright, now, without stopping playing the game, let's talk exploits. First, and maybe this should have been the most obvious but, can I process wood myself?”

“Err… I don’t know? Do you even have tools?”

“Could I not use one of the Judith’s saws or axes or something?”

“I doubt it. Weapon, remember? You can only use the ones labeled for your use. I didn’t even know those existed until a couple of days ago.”

Okay… “Well what if they make the components and I assemble the final product?”

“I don’t know? Like what?”

“I don’t know either, I’m spitballing here. Like, caltrops. Bent bits of metal, basically. Can I take metal from the resource packs and bend it into caltrops?”

“Maybe with the right tools? I’ve never seen someone try.”

I thought about it a moment longer. “Let's test.” I jogged outside and grabbed a couple of broken bits of wood from around the base of the tower. We had a fairly enormous pile of broken bits of wood stacked up there, waiting to find a use.

“Alright. Today’s test- Can I Make Stuff? Test number one- pointy sticks.”

I pulled out the knife and looked dubiously at the blade. Seven very pointy, practically triangular inches long, it was by no means a whittling knife. Since it was double sided, I had to be very careful where I put my fingers. Yep. This was going to work. Nothing but good vibes here.

“Pammy, come on up here for a minute!”

Health and safety is everyone’s responsibility, after all, and I have to set a good example. Once everyone was in place, I carefully drew the knife along the twig.

It was fine. I mean, I carved a long sliver off of it, but since that’s what I wanted to do, it was fine. I breathed a sigh of relief and did it a second time on the other side.

“Oh, now that’s-” The twig seemed to vibrate subtly in my hand, then it kind of exploded? But in the way a dandelion explodes when you blow on it. It puffed out into sludgy dust and scrap.

It literally transformed into trash.

I shared a look with Versai.

“Think it might be a two cut limit?”

“No” She shook her head.

“Me either.” I scored a twig twice with the knife. Nothing. I carved a notch between the two marks- trash. Make shavings? Trash, including the shavings. Tried making a pointy stick from an already broken bit of wood? Trash.

I asked Versai to try, and she flat out refused. Like, clearly not capable of saying yes.

“I can’t work inside the Tower. That’s not an order I can follow.” She crossed her arms and looked away. I forced myself to calm down, and tried to give her enough time to reset.

“We are testing different possible exploits, right?”

“Right.”

“And you support this effort, right?”

“Right.” She nodded.

“So if I were to leave this twig here and walk around the corner loudly saying ‘Boy I sure hope nobody picks up this twig and carves a point into it-’”

I looked at her hopefully. Possibly even with puppy dog eyes.

“I don’t know why you are looking at me like that. Please stop, it’s kind of creepy.”

“Would you do anything to this stick right here, if I were to abandon it here?”

“No.”

“Not even tidy it up? Maybe lean it aesthetically against a hole in the wall where we are definitely supposed to have windows?”

“Do I look like a maid? Or an… aesthetic window person?”

“I mean, you do definitely seem like someone who grew up with fancy windows, currently has fancy windows, and fully expects to have even fancier windows in the future, yeah.” I spread my hands helplessly.

She hesitated. “Define fancy.”

“I think you just proved my point. Alright, I know a hard block when I see one.” I thought a moment, toying with the knife. Then I looked speculatively at Versai.

“You said you could probably teach me knife fighting, but didn’t feel like it at the time. Still don’t feel like it?”

She shook her head slowly, this time with a more questioning look on her face.

“In the same way that you wouldn’t mind telling me some things, but you don’t want to tell me some things?”

She nodded at that.

“Well. How would you feel about practicing some basic knife drills? Not for me, just to make sure you haven’t lost your touch. Just pure self satisfaction.”

She slowly picked up a stick and looked at me wonderingly.

“This isn’t going to go the way you think. Knife fighting isn’t like fencing. At all. Actually, I’m not sure what you imagine fencing is like, but I’d stake my eyes you never fought with a sword on the battlefield.”

I nodded. “True. Until I met you, I never saw a sword swung to kill. I’ve seen a staggering amount of sword… entertainments, I guess? So I know some of the lingo.”

“Please, if you value your life and the lives counting on you, forget all of that. Immediately. Completely.”

Fair enough. “I’ll try.”

“Do better. Succeed. Because, and I really, really, need you to believe this, knife fighting Is. Not. Fencing. At all. In any way shape or form. Do not let the fact that a dagger looks a bit like a sword fool you. They are- what now?”

“Not the same.”

“Corect.” Versai raised the stick to a little above her waist, then crouched a bit. “First thing I learned, and I guess the first big difference from swordplay, is that there is no correct stance.”

“Eh?” I was going to ask more but she was on me. She bull rushed me, smashed me over, all while stabbing me under the armpit, in the ribs, in the neck!

“OW! Jesus, Versai!”

“I’m practicing my knife drills. This isn’t for your benefit. If you happen to learn from it, good for you.” She had a defiant look in her eyes. Was this her first tiny act of rebellion against the systems of the world?

“Also, if you call me a Jesus again, I will practice my joint locks and groin attacks too.”

“Ah, okay! Noted! But it’s not actually an insult, more a generalized exclamation.”

“Oh? What does it mean?” She asked, with intense suspicion.

“Josh.”

That got a slow blink.

“Pardon?”

“It means Joshua in a foreign language. So, you know. Josh.”

“You… wherever you come from… yell about some guy named Josh.”

I briefly considered explaining six thousand years of religious history. History I do not, on reflection, know.

“Yep. We have a whole thing about it. Debates rage about whether there was a historical Josh, but at this point, he is firmly embedded in the language.”

“Sure.” She violently shook her head, and refocused. “Having now answered all possible questions about that, I’m going to practice the most basic drill. Just… get your arms up and tuck your elbows in, close to your body. Yeah, good enough.”

I turtled up, feeling a bit like a boxer.

“So this is the next thing I learned, which is if you are unarmed and facing someone with a knife, run away. Failing that, get a weapon, or make one. Just, whatever you do, don’t try to go at them unarmed.”

“Oh? I’ve seen plenty of-”

She was in her slightly crouched stance, right hand holding the stick and raised across her body to roughly her left shoulder. I didn’t see it whip out, but a second later, the back of my arms stung like crazy. Then she cut back in the other direction, and now there was a burning X across my forearms.

Back and forth, back and forth. I tried to keep my arms up, to catch the shots, but they slipped through, whipping in and slashing at my cheeks and ears. It was agonizing, and I have no shame in admitting, I shrieked.

“Yeah, that’s the normal response. Scream more, I don’t care. It’s normal.” Her hands didn’t slow down at all.

“Scream as loud as you can, as much as you can. Just so long as you remember knife fighting fact number two- with knives, there is no such thing as defense!”