After the monologue

A quick little exploration of an idea I had the other week. I may have been reading a lot of “player gets isekai’d into a game” manhua lately.

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“—And now, you will pay!”

Veris gestures dramatically, casting a just-in-time Feather to ensure his ridiculously sized sword doesn’t waver. Across the canyon, Regis bares his teeth and takes a stance, his long, black hair whipping wildly in the wind—

A sound rings through their minds, more felt than heard, like the softest bell rung right beside their ears.

The wind freezes. Regis’s hair pauses in place, billowing behind him, twisting slightly to his left. Around them, the world stops. Clouds, birds, clothes, grass, and the hero party watching from below — all freezes in place, like time has stopped.

Regis sighs and slumps.

Veris drops his hand from his sword - it stays where it is, suspended in the air - and shakes the tension out of his arm. “Tea?” he asks, a bridge of shadows forming across the canyon between them, a table and two chairs blossoming in the middle.

“Of course.” Regis glides across the bridge, slipping through the chair to sit, and pulls a ceramic tea set on a silver platter out of an oil slick glimmer of air. The teapot lifts itself, golden tea flowing gently from its spout.

His hair remains frozen. His clothes bend unnaturally, keeping as many of their frozen folds as possible while bending around his changed pose.

Veris’s body collapses into dark smoke and reappears perched primly in a seat. He accepts the cup that flies into his hand, and sips the tea with relish.

“Southern sunset, correct? Perhaps with a touch of bergamot?”

Regis sips his own cup. “Plus a hint of orange peel. It is the latest craze in the northern court, I believe.”

Veris smiles. “Of course. Gods forbid the north like anything local.”

A snort. “Never.”

Silence settles between them, each savouring the moment of peace and quiet as they savour their tea.

It is only when they reach the end of their cups that they rouse from their meditations.

“So.”

Regis sighs again. “So.”

“How do you want to do this? The normal script, or should we change it up a bit?”

“What would we even change? We’ve gone through so many variations.”

“If we drag it out until sundown, I could put on more of a show.”

“We tried that, remember? It was four — no, five rounds ago. The heroes just used more holy magic.”

“If we target the cleric first…”

“We would be doing that anyway.”

Veris rolls his eyes. “Well, do you have any better ideas?”

Regis is silent, fiddling with his empty cup as he stares into the distance. Eventually: “Honestly, I just want it over.”

“We have a job to do—“

“And it’s the heroes’ jobs to defeat us, but so far they’ve been completely incompetent! There’s only so many times I can go through the same old scene before I get tired.”

“So you want to make it easy?”

“I want to make it obvious. Maybe then they’ll finally get a clue!”

Veris runs his hand over the table top, the shadows rippling under his fingers. “Alright.”

“What?”

“I said: alright. Let’s make it obvious. At least then we’ll be able to move on, instead of being trapped in this one scene.”

“But that will mean—“

Veris stands, his chair dissolving behind him. “Like you said, repeating this is getting tiring.”

The tea set slides itself into a glimmer, the tea pot and cups jumping onto the tray just in time. Regis stands and the table and remaining chair fade too.

“Thank you,” Regis say to Veris’s side profile, his old friend refusing to meet his eyes. “Then, once more unto the breach?”

That brings a tiny smile to Veris’s face. “Once more,” he agrees, and looks over for just a moment.

Then he collapses, reappearing by his sword. Regis sweeps across the bridge to his own side, feeling the shadows fade behind him. Both take up their stances again, giving themselves the same poses and expressions thanks to many years of long practice, then wait.

One moment. Two. Three.

A chime, and the world restarts. Below them, the heroes turn to confer on their plan. The villains share a look, one last moment of agreement, then launch themselves up into the air, their flashiest moves ready on their tongues.