Chapter Forty-Nine: A Contest of Misery?

"You say I'm a good person?" Cordova sat down with a gloomy expression, looking as lifeless as if he had been blasted by Judar's staff a couple of hundred times, and let out a long sigh. "Then you simply have no idea just how unlucky a person can be..."

Mudan couldn't help but feel a bit dazed, somehow finding the vibe of the guy in front of him strangely familiar. Without dwelling on it too much, he asked subconciously, "How unlucky?"

Cordova gave a bitter smile and pointed at the tip of his nose, "Like me."

"You?" Mudan clicked his tongue in surprise. "I've been playing for a while now. Setting everything else aside, friend, your physical attributes alone must be among the top tier of players, right?"

There was definitely sufficient ground for this statement. Even though Mo's character was merely a Level 3 warrior far below the average level of current players, he at least served as a reference point. A quick mental comparison led Mudan to the conclusion that this brother who had dropped from the heavens possessed at least triple his own strength and stamina. That level of ability was far from ordinary.

"That might indeed be the case under current circumstances, but..." Cordova shrugged and let out a heavy sigh, bowing his head. "Ah, past events are too painful to recall."

Mudan fell silent for a moment, leaving it entirely up to Cordova whether he truly wished to recall them or not...

As expected, this big brother whose entire face screamed "I have a story to tell" finally couldn't help himself. He asked Mudan with a heartbroken expression, "Have you ever experienced true despair?"

"I suppose everyone's criteria for judging 'despair' might be a bit different," Mudan replied ambiguously. Deep down, however, his heart twitched slightly as a few unpleasant memories stirred.

Several fragmented memories that should have been sealed deep within his soul flashed past. Those fears that he had almost completely forgotten lately kept lingering around him, as unshakeable as a recurring nightmare.

"I used to create other characters before," Cordova said, entirely oblivious to Mudan's microscopic reaction, speaking almost to himself. "Yet I was driven to the verge of losing all hope in life by one blow after another."

Mudan looked at him in surprise. "It's just a game, isn't it? Surely it's not that serious?"

Cordova gave a dry laugh. "How long have you been playing 'Wrath of the Continent'?"

"Uh..." Mudan pondered for a moment before giving the current playtime of his character Mo. "Less than two days, I suppose. I've just been playing casually off and on, not very long."

Strictly speaking, he wasn't lying.

"Have you ever died?" Cordova continued to ask.

Mudan shook his head. Naturally, he had never died, though he had witnessed other players dying a few times.

This fellow player of an unspecified race heaved a heavy sigh. "That's why you don't understand..."

Mudan understood instantly. It was obvious this guy had definitely kicked the bucket before. He had previously read on the forums about the practically insane death penalty in 'Wrath of the Continent,' which basically amounted to deleting the character and starting over from scratch. Combining that with Cordova's earlier words, the conclusion was self-evident.

"Well, actually, I think you can set your mind at ease," Mudan said, trying to recall something while carefully weighing his words. "You are definitely not the most miserable one..."

You are definitely not the most miserable one!

These words made Cordova's eyes light up, reviving his spirits as if he had been injected with a dose of adrenaline. He looked up at Mudan in disbelief and asked, "Are you serious?"

"Yes!" Seeing that his previous remark had worked wonders, the latter immediately nodded. "You are definitely not!"

What is the most effective way to comfort someone who feels utterly miserable?

The answer is obvious: give examples to let them know that someone else in this world has encountered similar bad luck, and furthermore, that someone is even more miserable than the person you are comforting! The effect is even better if the example you give is yourself~

At this moment, Mudan certainly didn't want to see Cordova remain so depressed. So even though he didn't have any similar tales of bad luck of his own, he still knew what to do. It must have been shortly ago... when he had seen a post on the 'Wrath of the Continent' forum...

It recounted how an unlucky OP (original poster) had suffered a series of tragic deaths. Although the details weren't described with excessive thoroughness, it didn't diminish the overwhelming sense of desolation that oozed right through the screen. To be honest, if a misery-comparing convention were to be held in 'Wrath of the Continent,' the author of that post wouldn't even need to show up; those passionate, evocative lines of text alone would secure victory.

Perhaps Cordova had suffered a painful death that stripped him of everything he had previously built, but no matter how high the 'quality' of his death was, it surely couldn't match the sheer 'quantity' of deaths possessed by that OP.

Thus, Mudan recounted the OP's post to Cordova while trying his best to recall it, striving to make it word-for-word and as dramatic as possible!

Besides, the person had posted it to share their emotional journey with everyone in the first place. If this tale could be used to lift someone else's spirits, that OP should rest in pe—uh, I mean, find solace... Sorry, anyway, the OP would probably feel quite gratified.

With this thought in mind, Mudan finished telling the story while inwardly marveling.

Then...

"Well, I completely understand," Cordova nodded slightly, keeping his head lowered at an angle where his expression couldn't be seen, and muttered in a low voice, "Your point is roughly that the guy who got dragged into an accident and died right after entering the game, then bit the dust again less than two hours after creating a new character, and then died, and died, and died yet again until he nearly had a mental breakdown, is the unluckiest person in the entire game?"

Mudan shook his head. "Not necessarily."

Cordova's eyes lit up once more.

Mudan continued, "That's just my personal opinion."

Cordova: "......"

"What's wrong?" Mudan asked in surprise, then immediately widened his eyes. "You surely don't mean to tell me you're even more miserable than him?!"

The second half of the sentence he left unsaid was: What kind of catastrophic misfortune is that?!

Cordova stood up listlessly, his gaze directed at Mudan filled with tears as he shook his head and said, "No..."

"Phew, that's a relief," Mudan finally let out a sigh.

"Because I am that person who, according to your personal opinion, is the unluckiest of them all."

Cordova's silhouette under the moonlight appeared hunchbacked and weathered. The 'staff' on his back—which looked more and more like a long spear—shone brightly, adding a touch of desolate tragedy to the scene.

Mudan nearly choked on his breath and almost passed out just like the old orc gentleman not far away. The two of them stood in silence, looking at each other for a moment as the atmosphere plunged into extreme awkwardness...

"Cough cough~ Ahem!!"

Fortunately, this awkwardness was quickly interrupted by a fit of coughing. The old orc gentleman unexpectedly stirred awake at that moment, groggily tightened his clothes, and mumbled, "Why do I suddenly feel a chill as if I've been cursed with eight lifetimes of bad luck..."

Instantly, Cordova's figure appeared even more weathered.

"Ah, you're awake?" Mudan shot Cordova an apologetic glance, then quickly walked over to the old man and looked at him with concern. "Are you alright, Grandpa..."

The old orc rubbed the back of his neck where Cordova had previously struck him hard, shaking his head. "I'm alright, just a bit of a sore neck. Nothing major, nothing major. Old folks are just like this. Back in my hometown, we call this bad luck—the bad as in bad fortune, and also bad as in moldy~"

"Please don't talk anymore, Grandpa..." Mudan was practically on the verge of tears. "I'm begging you!"

As for Cordova, who was trembling continuously nearby—if his rune-crafted body possessed the function of shedding tears, it was likely that a flood would have already started in the vicinity.

By this time, the old orc's consciousness had cleared up considerably. He frowned and looked around his surroundings, then suddenly widened his eyes in shock and stammered to Mudan, "What is going on here?! How did my farm recover so quickly..."

As mentioned earlier, thanks to Cordova's superhuman work efficiency, this small farm (ruin) had nearly returned to its original state within just a few hours. This undoubtedly gave the orc gentleman, who had suffered unprovoked disaster, a massive shock.

"It's all thanks to my friend here. His name is Cordova," Mudan pointed at Cordova. "He carried out almost all of the reconstruction work."

The latter managed to squeeze out a sliver of a smile, nodding in greeting to the old orc.

"Thank you, thank you!" The old orc hurried forward and grasped his hand. "Thank you so much! My friend, you really are a good person. Be very careful out there though, good people don't live long..."

Cordova: "..."

Mudan deciphered a message from the look the other sent him: Can I punch this guy's lights out?

Hence, he shook his head frantically!

"You're... quite welcome." After struggling for quite a while, Cordova—whose inner nature was indeed thoroughly good and neutral—ultimately didn't slap the old man. Instead, he replied with the air of someone who had seen through life: "As long as you're happy."

The old orc laughed heartily and bolted straight into the newly built kitchen without looking back. "I'll whip up some food for you guys! Let's make it festive to wash away the bad luck!"

Cordova: "Does that mean washing me away..."

Mudan: "You're overthinking it, pal..."

Half an hour later, Mudan—who had finally finished the last bit of reconstruction work (Cordova had lost all his dreams due to the overwhelming blows)—heard the old orc's call and hurried over to the temporary table and chairs (tree stumps) in the corner of the farm to help arrange the food.

Cordova, resembling some kind of defeated creature, also crawled up sluggishly and dragged his feet behind Mudan.

"I misunderstood you earlier, little brother. You're a good person!" The old orc raised his cup to Mudan, conveniently handing out a good-guy card, and then turned to Cordova. "And this... uh, friend whose race I can't quite tell, thank you so much. I—"

"I'll finish this first as a toast!" Mudan immediately interrupted the old orc's rambling, tossing back the pale blue liquid in his cup that resembled alcohol. His vision blurred for a moment, and he discovered he had acquired a 3-second stun status.

"You're welcome!" Cordova also downed the contents of his cup in one gulp without being affected in the least, while a tiny vent on the back of his neck puffed out a wisp of vapor.

The old orc smiled sincerely. "Thank you both truly. This little farm has been my everything for a very long time..."

[He seems to have a story.]

Mudan thought to himself.

[He seems to have been very unlucky before.]

Cordova thought to himself.

[He seems about to start telling his story / history of misfortune...]

Both thought simultaneously.

"Ah, speaking of which, back in my day I was also..." Sure enough, after taking a couple of sips of wine, the orc grandpa immediately prepared to reminisce about the hardships of the past. The other two also assumed postures of listening attentively, when unexpectedly, right at that moment!

An irresistible wave of wind pressure descended from the sky, followed immediately by a heaven-shaking roar. The three of them turned their heads in astonishment, only to see a blue dragon of terrifying proportions standing right inside the... ruins... of the newly rebuilt main house, letting out a low growl that sounded utterly exhausted.

This dragon, its entire body rippling with deep cyan magical currents, first cast its gaze around the surroundings, then let out a relieved draconic cry upon spotting Cordova, before executing a 360-degree spin right on the spot...

Boom! Clatter! Crash!

Half of the fence was ripped up by the nearly ten-meter-long dragon tail, crashing down into the distance along with a large amount of soil. At the same time, the newly tilled farmland and the kitchen that had just been used not long ago were thoroughly wrecked by the casual movement of those dragon wings.

Mudan and Cordova turned back with trembling gazes to look at the old orc gentleman.

Whether it was out of luck or misfortune, this time he didn't pass out. He simply pointed his trembling finger at the adult azure dragon not far away and murmured, "Do you guys... know this... thing..."

"Never seen it before!!"

Before Mudan could speak, Cordova let out a roar at the top of his lungs, then began frantically blinking his eyes at the dragon in the distance.

Then...

"Oh~ Cordova, I think I made a big mistake. But seriously, it's best not to activate more than three gust runes at the same time; I feel like I'm about to drop dead from exhaustion." The dragon shrugged its... wings towards Cordova, and then turned its gaze to Mudan. "Hey, you must be the temporary custodian. Nice to meet you, my friend, my name is Fimigel Bluetooth."

"I don't care if you're Bluetooth or Infrared!" Cordova bellowed with his neck thrust forward, "Either way, I don't know you!"

However...

Clank!

It seemed...

Clank!

It was already too late...

The old orc, who had been pottering around nearby digging the earth frantically with a hoe ever since the dragon uttered the name 'Cordova,' was currently bending down to pick up something while muttering under his breath. It gave Mudan a feeling of extreme danger!

"Back in my day, I was also a prominent figure in the Engineering Society..." The old orc lifted a mechanical contraption that looked thoroughly ominous—old, equipped with a grip, a chain, a set of saw teeth, and emitting a continuous buzzing sound—as he muttered in a low voice. "In the end... tsk tsk... what kind of mess is this..."

His right hand gripped the handle, pointing diagonally downward, while his left hand threaded through three pull-rings and gave a fierce backward yank!

Zhi-zhi-zhi-zhi-zhi... Buzz!! Buzz-buzz-buzz!!!

Mudan and Cordova turned and ran for their lives, the latter screaming at the top of his lungs as he sprinted...

"Damn it, a chainsaw, ahhhhhhh!!!"

Chapter 49: End