He Who Fights with Monsters 5: A LitRPG Adventure

Franklin handed over a file as they sat, side by side, in the large suite’s comfortable armchairs.

“This is everything we have on her, which is, essentially, nothing. The most concrete thing we have is an analysis of her abilities, courtesy of a drone recording. I’ve put the raw footage and an analysed breakdown of it on your laptop but, in brief, she’s a blitz attacker. Highly capable, extreme damage output. She seems to have an ability to ignore rank barriers, as there was no noticeable damage impedance from the silver-rank monsters. That’s possibly just a factor of the poor video source, however.”

“She’s another Trelawney, then.”

“Initial assessment is that she’s potentially more capable than Trelawney, although that assessment has received some pushback.”

“Of course it has,” Lance said. “Our people aren’t used to not having the best there is, but this woman comes from a world where our best is the norm. Value assessment?”

“Our best guess is that she’s very close to crossing the line to silver rank. Tactically, she would be an asset, but no more than any other top-flight silver. It’s the knowledge she brought back from the other world that’s valuable. Our assets inside the Sydney branch claim that Asano has asserted that her value in this regard is higher than his.”

“And what about him?” Lance asked. “Did we finally get a look at his abilities?”

“Yes, sir, although not a good one. We believe he’s an affliction specialist, so his abilities have limited visual effect. Most of them anyway.”

“Oh?”

“His abilities appear to work in stages. Initially, his powers inflict a rapidly accelerating necrosis, which he puts in place before moving on to other combatants. Then he comes back and switches to attacks based around what we believe to be oblivion energy.”

“He’s wiping stuff out of existence?”

“Yes, sir. Allow me to show you a clip.”

Franklin pulled up a video file on his tablet, showing a man on a motorcycle trailing a dark cloak of stars behind him as he circled some stricken-looking hairy giants. A huge column of light crashed down on the giants, one after another, wholly eradicating each one.

“That's a lot of oblivion energy, if that's really what it is,” Lance said. “We're sure this guy is bronze rank?”

“There are a lot of anomalies in that regard,” Franklin said. “He also seems to ignore rank suppression, which is possibly due to items or a learned ability from the other world. We have no information on anything like that existing, but our knowledge of the other world is centuries out of date. It may well be a more recent development. The analysts think it's more likely a result of individual abilities, though. We do have one of our own who can do that, after all.”

“What else?”

“His aura is highly anomalous. He did something we don't understand while he was in France that had a physiological effect similar to a rank-up. Since then, he appears different, magically. His aura was already reported to be significantly more powerful than his rank suggested and now it's something else entirely. It apparently still reads as bronze rank but with a strength that easily matches silver. One of our informants referred to it as feeling like…”

Franklin scrolled through his notes on the tablet.

“…being bludgeoned to death by the Ten Commandments,” he read.

“How colourful.”

“As best we can tell, he’s bronze rank. With the unusual factors surrounding him and the borderline strength of the other outworlder, our analysts suggest treating them as silver, from a tactical perspective.”

“What do they make of Asano’s tactical value?”

“We don’t have a full handle of his abilities yet, but early assessment places his value at extremely high. High endurance, escalating damage, oblivion energy. He’s built for taking down ADEs. His high mobility and stealth capabilities are just sweeteners. The problem is his behavioural profile.”

“Oh?”

“He’s erratic. Rash. It’s hard to predict when he’ll fight versus when he’ll talk. He’s willing to accept extreme consequences for bold moves. Strongly anti-authoritarian. Even so, he’s made connections in the Network and the Cabal. He values friendship over alliances. He also appears to be suffering from post-traumatic stress we believe stems from an extended period in some kind of combat zone.”

“They think he’s been to war?”

“Or something like it,” Franklin said.

“What’s the suggested approach?”

“Personal benefits won't win him over,” Franklin said. “He seems to value relationships, so offering benefits for the other outworlder and his family will be better received. It's all in the packet I left in your room. He doesn't respect politeness. Be honest, show strength. He'll respect that. Do not threaten him, however. He cannot be intimidated and he'll see it as a challenge.”

“He sounds like a huge pain in the ass.”

“That sums up his behavioural analysis, quite neatly, if more colloquially than the written report.”





63





PITCH MEETINGS





The film crew set up next to the Surf Club, with a crowd of onlookers gathered around. The kitchen set was put out, with the fridge and oven hooked up.

“Today, we have a special guest,” Erika said to the cameras. “As viewers of my previous program may remember, I would occasionally have my little brother on before his untimely passing. As it turns out, he faked his death in circumstances he has yet to adequately explain, so for the first time on Beachside Kitchen, please welcome my brother, Jason Asano.”

“What kind of introduction was that?” Jason asked, walking into shot.

“Well, if you’d like to explain to the viewers what you’ve been doing for a year and a half? Maybe why you’re wearing sunglasses.”

“I have an eye condition. I’m definitely not hung over.”

“Well, I hope you’ve brought a better recipe than you did an explanation,” Erika said. “It’s dessert week on Beachside Kitchen and Jason will be helping me make a Russian honey cake. Before that, though, we’ve each picked out a simple dessert recipe that we’ll be making. What do you have for us, little brother?”

“I’m going with a brioche frangipane apple pudding. How about you?”

“I thought I’d pay deference to the lovely warm spell we’re enjoying here in Casselton Beach by making a simple and summery key lime pie.”

“West Indian lime pie,” Jason corrected.

“Most people will know it as a key lime pie, Jason.”

“We’re in Australia, Eri, and in Australia, they’re called West Indian limes, not key limes. Ergo, West Indian lime pie.”

“Ergo? Are you trying to make the viewers hate you? Key lime pie is universally acknowledged as a delicious summer dessert, while the internet will tell you that West Indian lime pie is a gross sex thing.”

“It’s the internet, Eri. Everything is a gross sex thing,” Jason said, pulling out his phone. “You probably made that up anyway, so I’m going to look it up.”

His expression froze for a moment, then he put his phone away and flashed the camera a big smile.

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