Goal #170: Run in a full marathon event with only walking breaks. Before my morning jog, I reviewed my latest capital ‘G’ Goal on The List, my first fitness-related ever.
I did some stretches and warm-up exercises in my apartment, copying a video online. Saluting the guard and parking valet at the entrance of Grand Scaup’s, I set off at a moderate pace. Move out of the way, people! Herald Stone, Marathon Marauder is here!
There was an ancient legend about a messenger who ran forty kilometers nonstop to alert the Hellanes League of an invading army marching through an unexpected route, the town of Marathon. At present, a marathon was officially forty-two kilometers after Queen Alexandria of the Eyrean Empire declared it so a hundred years ago—the distance of her castle to the venue of the first World Games.
I pictured myself as the harried Hellanes messenger, running through hills, uneven roads, and grasslands to deliver the vital message. A messenger… a herald!
Herald Stone should conquer a marathon, as foretold by my name—this was Goal #170.
No stopping allowed, only slowing down for walk breaks. And I was going to do it at an actual event. Not only would there be an official record of my accomplishment, but I could also show off to the press about health and whatnot, maybe unveil a new healthy menu at Dolly’s. There were criticisms from lesser minds that the food at Dolly’s was unhealthy, as if they were expecting something different from a fast food chain. Time to make it a tad less unhealthy.
Brilliant plan, Herald! Thank you, Herald.
I was a few days into my preparations for Goal #170. This might take several months, maybe more than a year.
My body ached, but the good kind of ache. It was a sign of progress. Running was five percent easier today than yesterday despite my sore muscles—I pulled that percentage out of my ass. Breathing was less labored, and no side stitches plagued me. Yet. My flank was sure to burn later.
“Is this what adding Might and Vigor is in real life?” I huffed, running on the decorative stone blocks paving the sidewalk.
Thinking of exercising as if it was an RPG made it fun instead of a chore. I was grinding out my Running Ocadule to gain Ranks. For example, I had a new skill unlocked—I wasn’t sweating after five minutes of running.
Four blocks into my journey to greatness, I slowed to a walk to drink from my water bottle.
This bottle was supposedly made for runners. It had a state-of-the-art grip design and hand strap so I didn’t need to exert effort to grasp it—that was what the guy at the sports store told me. I didn’t know if it worked or was just bullshit marketing. But since I was there to buy running shoes, might as well buy a water bottle too. I admit I was swept away by imagining I was gearing my character.
While I wasn’t so sure about the expensive water bottle, my running shoes provided a whole new experience for my feet. It was easier to run, and the way it hugged my soles lessened the impact with each step. This definitely increased my movement speed and probably added armor too.
Okay, I’m being cringey, I thought with a chuckle. An old lady walking her dog shot me a glare. I waved at her as I sped up again. Do the kids these days still use ‘cringe’ as an expression?
Sweat traced my brow as I passed the benches next to the Bobwhite River.
The first time I jogged from Grand Scaup’s—also the first time I jogged since high school—I was pretty much dying by the time I reached this area. I had no choice but to rest then. Now, I continued shadowing the luxury boats sailing down the river.
Every bit of success emboldened me to try harder, to aim higher. Should I make another fitness-related Goal? I was yet to have my revenge on Mr. Armand’s gym. When I went there following Mr. Armand’s invitation to work out—it was more of a cordial offer not meant to be accepted—I passed out from pretending to be fitter than I was. I hit the edge of the dumbbell rack on my way down, adding injury to injury.
Embarrassing was an understatement. But it resulted in binge-watching hours of the MCO Channel while stuck in the hospital for a few days, reigniting my love for RPGs… and getting hard.
Though I had now immersed myself in Mother Core Online, I hadn’t forgotten Mr. Armand’s gym. I was going there later this evening to get hard in real life—get my muscles hard, not the other thing that wasn’t a muscle, contrary to popular belief. By then, I might figure out another Goal to put on The List.
Getting tired with my shins aching, I gradually eased to a walk.
Three more blocks until the corner of Ruffed Grouse and Falconet Street—my first stop, as in previous days. I sipped some water to cool myself. Given the bottle’s price, it should change the taste of water on demand. Then the waterfall off my face with the towel tucked into my waistband.
The stores along the street had MotherCon posters and banners. They seemed to be fuller than before. Many tourists flocked to the city, with the event starting next week. Not to mention Egret City was already a tourist spot in its own right.
“A Mardukryon?” I walked in place while checking out a custom 3D-printing store.
They offered different models of MCO races that customers could outfit with their favorite armor and weapons. One of the displayed models was a Mardukryon. It wasn’t there when I passed by yesterday. It drew the attention of a group of teens. They were one-upping each other with facts they knew about Mardukryons.
“Marketing moves fast,” I mused, continuing my walk.
Tomorrow would bring more players as news of the huge Mardukryon world quest ceaselessly spread like wildfire. And what of the quest itself? I was going to reveal the truth of the [Large Fragile Bundle] to Healer Gula and try to recreate it. Perhaps that could get Gula out of prison. She truly didn’t have any part in the disaster; it was mostly me helping Bawu.
But how could Gula make the potion while behind bars? It had to be me, right? The problem was that I didn’t have the appropriate Ocadule for it. Other Healers in the village might not help—the NPCs, that is. On the other hand, players would be willing to join the fun.
That was Gula’s side of the problem. What about Bawu?
Hunter-Warriors and players couldn’t penetrate deep into the tunnels—that’s what she said—until a way was found to quickly clean all those biohazard whatchamacallits. It wasn’t only my quest now, but everyone’s duty to solve it. SpartanDonkey organized the players, doling out Contracts for massive rewards to whoever stumbles upon the solution. Luds was bragging the other day that he had a lead. Hard to tell if he was talking out of his ass, as usual, or if he did find a clue. After all, he was one of the few players who had also encountered Bawu like me.
“The Ichor…” I mumbled, remembering the [Kruos Ichor Sliver]. I could ask SpartanDonkey about it if I catch him online, then decide which NPC I’d approach with it.
I reached the convenience store at the corner of Ruffed Grouse Avenue and Falconet Street, fitting snugly between a boutique clothing shop and a bookstore. I glanced at my semi-transparent appearance imposed on books behind the bookstore window. A handsome man stared back at me—that wasn’t my reflection; it was one of the book covers.
“Not looking like a used rug,” I mumbled, amazed that I was fine after jogging.
I remembered to shave my stubbles this morning to highlight my strong jaw, a defining feature of my otherwise unassuming face. My sisters, Nelly and Sawyer, used to joke that no one could pick me out of a lineup if I had a full beard to hide my jaw. Or, people might unconsciously point me as a suspect because of my deep eyes—a look that I had practiced to intimidate people in business, then disarming them with my friendly persona.
I was due for a haircut. The hair at the sides of my head was a quarter of an inch longer than the usual close crop. With my fingers, I combed my longer top to the left, wanting to look more presentable in case I met someone.
“When does she come here?” I wondered to myself, walking by the convenience store.
A woman was behind the counter, and another employee stocked the shelves. They weren’t her. Maybe she was at Vanguard Gaming. But I didn’t have a reason to go there. Perhaps I could buy—
“Anything I can help you with?” asked a woman behind me. “Mr. Customer?”
I turned around, keeping my face neutral. I minded my cheeks not to rise in a smile wider than a polite, friendly level.
Eclairs Fawn, arms clasped behind her back, grinned up at me. Her slightly upturned nose and hint of her rabbit teeth peeking through her parted lips upped her mischievousness. Her ashen grey eyes, with that eerie feel to them, dampened the dopamine pumped by my brain upon seeing an attractive woman. Her eyes were utterly calm despite her expression, like the center of the storm.
“Were you looking for me?” She questioningly tilted her head, her bob-cut hair, a lighter shade of brown than mine, bouncing.
“Hi there, Eclairs,” I said, keeping my voice nonchalant. “I was just thinking about getting an energy drink or sticking to water.” I raised my fancy bottle.
“Eclairs?” She raised a brow. “We’re dropping the Mr. Customer-Ms. Manager thing? I was having fun with that.”
“How about Croissant if you don’t want me calling you Eclairs?”
“Ha-ha, food joke. Very funny,” she said dryly, rolling her eyes. “Anyway, why are you here? Isn’t there a convenience store near the building you’re staying at? Is this your usual route?”
Oh, come on. Don’t poke holes in my story. “I was definitely not jogging past here to see you,” I said.
“Were you trying to see me?”
“I just said that I wasn’t.” Both of us chuckled. I was toeing the line of breaking the Bro Code with the cousin of my childhood friend. Was a cousin included in the Bro Code, or was it limited to sisters of friends? I needed a legal expert on the Bro Code.
“Okay, Mr. Not-Trying-To-See-Me. I’ve heard—”
“You’re really avoiding calling me my name?”
“Mr. Herald—”
“Do you want me to call you Ms. Eclairs?”
She placed her hands on her hips. “Okay then, Herald… I heard there’s a major Mardukryon world quest. Didn’t you change into a Mardukryon recently?”
Temple
We’ll have a few real-world chapters to progress some things and develop characters. Also, a good break before delving deeper into the plot of Book 3.
Fifteen advanced chapters on Patreon. Thanks to all patrons, especially Cidule tier Teeneet (aka Whale)
Read my other story: REND - a psychological novel with an atypical protagonist
Join our Discord
Goal #170: Run in a full marathon event with only walking breaks. Before my morning jog, I reviewed my latest capital ‘G’ Goal on The List, my first fitness-related ever.
I did some stretches and warm-up exercises in my apartment, copying a video online. Saluting the guard and parking valet at the entrance of Grand Scaup’s, I set off at a moderate pace. Move out of the way, people! Herald Stone, Marathon Marauder is here!
There was an ancient legend about a messenger who ran forty kilometers nonstop to alert the Hellanes League of an invading army marching through an unexpected route, the town of Marathon. At present, a marathon was officially forty-two kilometers after Queen Alexandria of the Eyrean Empire declared it so a hundred years ago—the distance of her castle to the venue of the first World Games.
I pictured myself as the harried Hellanes messenger, running through hills, uneven roads, and grasslands to deliver the vital message. A messenger… a herald!
Herald Stone should conquer a marathon, as foretold by my name—this was Goal #170.
No stopping allowed, only slowing down for walk breaks. And I was going to do it at an actual event. Not only would there be an official record of my accomplishment, but I could also show off to the press about health and whatnot, maybe unveil a new healthy menu at Dolly’s. There were criticisms from lesser minds that the food at Dolly’s was unhealthy, as if they were expecting something different from a fast food chain. Time to make it a tad less unhealthy.
Brilliant plan, Herald! Thank you, Herald.
I was a few days into my preparations for Goal #170. This might take several months, maybe more than a year.
My body ached, but the good kind of ache. It was a sign of progress. Running was five percent easier today than yesterday despite my sore muscles—I pulled that percentage out of my ass. Breathing was less labored, and no side stitches plagued me. Yet. My flank was sure to burn later.
“Is this what adding Might and Vigor is in real life?” I huffed, running on the decorative stone blocks paving the sidewalk.
Thinking of exercising as if it was an RPG made it fun instead of a chore. I was grinding out my Running Ocadule to gain Ranks. For example, I had a new skill unlocked—I wasn’t sweating after five minutes of running.
Four blocks into my journey to greatness, I slowed to a walk to drink from my water bottle.
This bottle was supposedly made for runners. It had a state-of-the-art grip design and hand strap so I didn’t need to exert effort to grasp it—that was what the guy at the sports store told me. I didn’t know if it worked or was just bullshit marketing. But since I was there to buy running shoes, might as well buy a water bottle too. I admit I was swept away by imagining I was gearing my character.
While I wasn’t so sure about the expensive water bottle, my running shoes provided a whole new experience for my feet. It was easier to run, and the way it hugged my soles lessened the impact with each step. This definitely increased my movement speed and probably added armor too.
Okay, I’m being cringey, I thought with a chuckle. An old lady walking her dog shot me a glare. I waved at her as I sped up again. Do the kids these days still use ‘cringe’ as an expression?
Sweat traced my brow as I passed the benches next to the Bobwhite River.
The first time I jogged from Grand Scaup’s—also the first time I jogged since high school—I was pretty much dying by the time I reached this area. I had no choice but to rest then. Now, I continued shadowing the luxury boats sailing down the river.
Every bit of success emboldened me to try harder, to aim higher. Should I make another fitness-related Goal? I was yet to have my revenge on Mr. Armand’s gym. When I went there following Mr. Armand’s invitation to work out—it was more of a cordial offer not meant to be accepted—I passed out from pretending to be fitter than I was. I hit the edge of the dumbbell rack on my way down, adding injury to injury.
Embarrassing was an understatement. But it resulted in binge-watching hours of the MCO Channel while stuck in the hospital for a few days, reigniting my love for RPGs… and getting hard.
Though I had now immersed myself in Mother Core Online, I hadn’t forgotten Mr. Armand’s gym. I was going there later this evening to get hard in real life—get my muscles hard, not the other thing that wasn’t a muscle, contrary to popular belief. By then, I might figure out another Goal to put on The List.
Getting tired with my shins aching, I gradually eased to a walk.
Three more blocks until the corner of Ruffed Grouse and Falconet Street—my first stop, as in previous days. I sipped some water to cool myself. Given the bottle’s price, it should change the taste of water on demand. Then the waterfall off my face with the towel tucked into my waistband.
The stores along the street had MotherCon posters and banners. They seemed to be fuller than before. Many tourists flocked to the city, with the event starting next week. Not to mention Egret City was already a tourist spot in its own right.
“A Mardukryon?” I walked in place while checking out a custom 3D-printing store.
They offered different models of MCO races that customers could outfit with their favorite armor and weapons. One of the displayed models was a Mardukryon. It wasn’t there when I passed by yesterday. It drew the attention of a group of teens. They were one-upping each other with facts they knew about Mardukryons.
“Marketing moves fast,” I mused, continuing my walk.
Tomorrow would bring more players as news of the huge Mardukryon world quest ceaselessly spread like wildfire. And what of the quest itself? I was going to reveal the truth of the [Large Fragile Bundle] to Healer Gula and try to recreate it. Perhaps that could get Gula out of prison. She truly didn’t have any part in the disaster; it was mostly me helping Bawu.
But how could Gula make the potion while behind bars? It had to be me, right? The problem was that I didn’t have the appropriate Ocadule for it. Other Healers in the village might not help—the NPCs, that is. On the other hand, players would be willing to join the fun.
That was Gula’s side of the problem. What about Bawu?
Hunter-Warriors and players couldn’t penetrate deep into the tunnels—that’s what she said—until a way was found to quickly clean all those biohazard whatchamacallits. It wasn’t only my quest now, but everyone’s duty to solve it. SpartanDonkey organized the players, doling out Contracts for massive rewards to whoever stumbles upon the solution. Luds was bragging the other day that he had a lead. Hard to tell if he was talking out of his ass, as usual, or if he did find a clue. After all, he was one of the few players who had also encountered Bawu like me.
“The Ichor…” I mumbled, remembering the [Kruos Ichor Sliver]. I could ask SpartanDonkey about it if I catch him online, then decide which NPC I’d approach with it.
I reached the convenience store at the corner of Ruffed Grouse Avenue and Falconet Street, fitting snugly between a boutique clothing shop and a bookstore. I glanced at my semi-transparent appearance imposed on books behind the bookstore window. A handsome man stared back at me—that wasn’t my reflection; it was one of the book covers.
“Not looking like a used rug,” I mumbled, amazed that I was fine after jogging.
I remembered to shave my stubbles this morning to highlight my strong jaw, a defining feature of my otherwise unassuming face. My sisters, Nelly and Sawyer, used to joke that no one could pick me out of a lineup if I had a full beard to hide my jaw. Or, people might unconsciously point me as a suspect because of my deep eyes—a look that I had practiced to intimidate people in business, then disarming them with my friendly persona.
I was due for a haircut. The hair at the sides of my head was a quarter of an inch longer than the usual close crop. With my fingers, I combed my longer top to the left, wanting to look more presentable in case I met someone.
“When does she come here?” I wondered to myself, walking by the convenience store.
A woman was behind the counter, and another employee stocked the shelves. They weren’t her. Maybe she was at Vanguard Gaming. But I didn’t have a reason to go there. Perhaps I could buy—
“Anything I can help you with?” asked a woman behind me. “Mr. Customer?”
I turned around, keeping my face neutral. I minded my cheeks not to rise in a smile wider than a polite, friendly level.
Eclairs Fawn, arms clasped behind her back, grinned up at me. Her slightly upturned nose and hint of her rabbit teeth peeking through her parted lips upped her mischievousness. Her ashen grey eyes, with that eerie feel to them, dampened the dopamine pumped by my brain upon seeing an attractive woman. Her eyes were utterly calm despite her expression, like the center of the storm.
“Were you looking for me?” She questioningly tilted her head, her bob-cut hair, a lighter shade of brown than mine, bouncing.
“Hi there, Eclairs,” I said, keeping my voice nonchalant. “I was just thinking about getting an energy drink or sticking to water.” I raised my fancy bottle.
“Eclairs?” She raised a brow. “We’re dropping the Mr. Customer-Ms. Manager thing? I was having fun with that.”
“How about Croissant if you don’t want me calling you Eclairs?”
“Ha-ha, food joke. Very funny,” she said dryly, rolling her eyes. “Anyway, why are you here? Isn’t there a convenience store near the building you’re staying at? Is this your usual route?”
Oh, come on. Don’t poke holes in my story. “I was definitely not jogging past here to see you,” I said.
“Were you trying to see me?”
“I just said that I wasn’t.” Both of us chuckled. I was toeing the line of breaking the Bro Code with the cousin of my childhood friend. Was a cousin included in the Bro Code, or was it limited to sisters of friends? I needed a legal expert on the Bro Code.
“Okay, Mr. Not-Trying-To-See-Me. I’ve heard—”
“You’re really avoiding calling me my name?”
“Mr. Herald—”
“Do you want me to call you Ms. Eclairs?”
She placed her hands on her hips. “Okay then, Herald… I heard there’s a major Mardukryon world quest. Didn’t you change into a Mardukryon recently?”
Temple
We’ll have a few real-world chapters to progress some things and develop characters. Also, a good break before delving deeper into the plot of Book 3.
Fifteen advanced chapters on Patreon. Thanks to all patrons, especially Cidule tier Teeneet (aka Whale)
Read my other story: REND - a psychological novel with an atypical protagonist
Join our Discord
