Mad Hatter's Guide to Clearing The Game

Chapter 29: Ch27. I’m home

Chapter 29: Ch27. I'm home

Miles swung his scythe in another horizontal arc, making the Fallen Puppets dash backward in that ragged, uncanny manner of theirs. He stopped his motion as soon as the puppets were distant enough, and looking at Diego, snarled.

"Not today, freaks..." He took a few quick steps backward and immediately after that, grabbed the frail young man, lifting him on his shoulders.

With a grunt, Miles sprinted out of the alley, welcomed to the moonlit street by a small crowd of Goblins.

"Oh, really?"

Scoffing, Miles dashed forward, swirling his scythe left and right as the Creatures lunged at him, only to be shredded and split by the deadly weapon.

Feeling the ever so slight trickle of experience points pour down on his soul, Miles ran, all the while slashing and cutting through the enemies until there was nothing but silence and bloody corpses behind him. Miles did not stop running, though, breathing heavily until he arrived in front of the apartment building where he lived, the ghostly green [Safety Zone] sign illuminating the street below.

"Okay, what now...?" Miles stammered, placing Diego carefully on the floor.

The young man's breathing was ragged and erratic, his skin almost as cold and pale as a corpse. He had to think fast if he did not want Diego to die in his arms.

"Come on, think, think..." Miles panted, his own breathing as erratic as Diego's. "THINK, GODDAMNIT!"

He opened his inventory, looking suspiciously at one specific item.

"Can this work in anyone else, other than me?" Miles grumbled, but summoned it anyway. "Well, let's see if this works..."

"Who would've thought that doubling the stats and level would make lifting weight so easy..." He chuckled, barely feeling the soreness in his muscles from the fight against the Rabbit.

A couple minutes later, he was at his apartment's door, a brown, simple wooden door with the number 315 etched to it in a metal plate. Inhaling deeply, he opened the door, and crossed the threshold.

The apartment stood in stark contrast to the chaos of the city outside, a bubble of order in a world crumbling into ruin. The space was surprisingly neat, almost untouched by the destruction that had consumed the rest of the building.

The walls, while faded, bearing faint scorch marks and claw gashes in places, were clean and free of debris. A soft amber glow filled the room, cast by a combination of LED lights salvaged from abandoned stores and powered by a makeshift solar panel setup on the roof. The lighting gave the apartment a warm, lived-in feeling, despite the stark reality of the world outside.

The furniture was sparse but functional, each piece carefully chosen and maintained. A sturdy wooden table sat in the center of the living area, its surface polished and covered with a map of the city marked with careful annotations. Safe routes, danger zones, and common quest areas that respawned every once in a while.

Nearby, a small couch with patched-up upholstery rested against the wall, flanked by a bookshelf holding a modest collection of books, their spines worn but carefully arranged, alongside an assortment of trinkets. A compass, an old wristwatch, and a small figurine of a knight, its paint chipped but still standing proud.

There was another non-utilitarian piece of decoration, aside from the knightly figure on the bookshelf.

Framed by neatly carved frames, the portrait in it stood as a memento of forgotten days, when the world was nicer and kinder, and Miles had only one care in the world, to become a famous streamer, even though he sucked quite bad at it.

Miles walked to his room, opened the door, and observed his safe haven for a couple seconds before placing Diego on the bed, covered with neatly folded blankets and a single, brightly colored quilt that seemed almost out of place, a relic of a brighter time.

After checking if Diego was really okay, Miles returned to the living room and stood in front of the bookshelf, looking at the portrait that carried a simple, tattered black strip of cloth tied to it. The picture portrayed a man and a woman, both in their mid to late forties, with bright smiles on their faces, as they hugged a small child between them.

"Mom, dad..." Miles whispered. "I'm home."