Vasco stared at Nuncio, then at the monstrous maw of the rift-beast halted mid-snarl, its teeth inches from his throat. The crimson warmth blooming across his arm felt searingly real. Pain. Actual, undeniable pain.
“Undo me?” Vasco’s voice was a ragged whisper. “Like… uninstall me?”
Nuncio averted his gaze, picking up the stray chunk of aged Gruyère. “Sort of. Just… a clean reset, you know? Poof. No more Vasco, no more system-tearing bugs. Everyone wins. Well, except you.” He popped the cheese into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully.
[WARNING: Soul Tether Integrity: CRITICAL. Temporal Anomaly detected. Re-evaluating system parameters…]
Nuncio’s eyes, the vibrant swirl of cosmic dust now fading back to a familiar chestnut, flickered to the alert. “See? Another one. Look, buddy, this place is held together with string and wishes. You’re a wrecking ball. The whole ‘glitch-stick’ thing? It’s not a glitch. It’s… you. And it’s making my job harder.” He gestured vaguely at the motionless hall, the suspended fiends, and the still-gaping fissure.
“Your job?” Vasco felt a flicker of exasperation, even through the daze of pain and cosmic revelations. “This is a beta test, Nuncio! Bugs are part of the process! And ‘uninstalling’ the player? That’s terrible game design! There has to be another way. A patch, maybe?”
Nuncio sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “The ‘patch’ is you accepting reality and performing the Anchor Ritual. But you’d have to… *want* to be real. Truly. And that’s a big ask.” He snapped his fingers, and the starry gleam around the rift-beast wavered, then vanished. The monster snarled again, lunging, but it was Nuncio who moved with unexpected speed, grabbing Vasco by the collar and yanking him back just as the beast’s claws raked through the air where his chest had been.
“Whoa, lag spike!” Nuncio exclaimed, his voice returning to its usual boisterous cheer, as if nothing profound had just happened. “Massive latency on that one, Vasco! See? Happens to the best of us! This server’s just got terrible ping tonight!” He winked, a ridiculous, over-the-top gesture that somehow pulled Vasco back from the brink of existential dread.
Vasco blinked, his brain latching onto the familiar. Lag. Yes. That made sense. A massive lag spike, causing Nuncio to look all… cosmic and then revert. It explained the weird feeling of time freezing. It explained everything, in that beautiful, oblivious way his mind worked.
“Right! Lag!” Vasco nodded vigorously, tension draining from his shoulders. “Man, I hate it when the servers get wonky during a boss event.” He clutched his bleeding arm, wincing. “Still, though. This guy’s got a janky hitbox.”
Around them, the other horrors, previously immobilized, began to stir, their chitinous limbs clicking against the marble floor of the reception hall. The robed ringleader snarled, his face twisted in malicious glee. “You fool! You cannot stop the void! Let it consume this decadent empire!” He pointed a quivering finger at Vasco. “You may have the power of a demigod, peasant, but even gods bleed!”
Before the ringleader could unleash another spell, a blur of pristine black coattails streaked across the hall. The butler, his usually trembling hands now gripping two polished serving platters like a pair of war shields, moved with terrifying efficiency. A shriek pierced the air as one platter, honed to an absurd edge by demonic will, cleaved through the neck of an approaching scuttler. Black ichor sprayed across the polished floor, but not a drop touched the butler's immaculate tuxedo.
“Creature of the dark,” the butler intoned, his voice a low, guttural rumble that still managed to sound impeccably polite, “your intrusion is most… uncouth. My Master Vasco requires his tea, undisturbed.” He spun, deflecting a lashing tentacle with the other tray, then thrust it forward with the force of a battering ram, impaling a hulking rift-beast through its central eye. The creature gurgled, disintegrating into dust that the butler fastidiously brushed from his sleeves.
Vasco watched, utterly mesmerized. “Woah. New butler combat animations? Nice!” He admired the manservant's brutal grace, then turned his attention back to the gaping rift. He had to close that rift. He couldn’t let more of those things get through.
He eyed the flickering, unstable edges of the dimensional tear, then his stick, and then, inexplicably, a roll of grey duct tape that had materialized on a nearby serving cart. It looked… remarkably like the high-density poly-alloy patching material he used to fix his VR headset. An idea sparked, reckless and brilliant in its simplicity.
“Alright, you oversized rendering error,” Vasco muttered, gripping his stick. He focused, not on ‘deleting’ or ‘fixing,’ but on ‘patching.’ He imagined the tear in reality as a broken texture, something that just needed to be… stuck back together. The duct tape flared, expanding into a pale, fluttering ribbon as he snatched it from the cart.
He aimed the stick, holding the luminescent tape in his other hand. “Alright, let’s see if this works. Quick fix, temporary patch. Just until I can get a proper hotfix deployed.”
With a grunt, he swung the stick, slapping the end of the tape against one edge of the rift. A low thrum vibrated through the air. The strip adhered to the breach, not merely patching it but *sealing* it. He yanked it across the gaping maw, the bright ribbon stretching and bonding with absurd speed. With a final, decisive tug, he pressed the other end against the opposing side of the rift. The white light flared, then solidified, forming a seamless seal. The rift, moments before a swirling vortex of annihilation, was now just a patched metallic rectangle on the wall.
[Dimensional Integrity: Restored. Temporary Solution Applied. Warning: Non-Standard Protocol. Further use may cause unexpected system instability.]
Vasco beamed, ignoring the warning. “Ha! Knew it! Duct tape fixes everything!” He looked at his arm, the bleeding now slowed to a trickle. The intense pain had dulled, replaced by a persistent ache, but the knowledge that he had *chosen* to mend, to protect, filled him with a fierce resolve.
Inesca, who had watched the entire chaotic spectacle with parted lips, pushed through the remaining pockets of stunned noble students. Her gaze fixed on his bleeding sleeve, then on the metallic patch. “Vasco! Your arm!” She rushed to him, her fingers fluttering over the wound, not quite daring to touch. Her voice was laced with a desperate urgency. “That… that was not a ‘lag spike,’ was it? And that… that incredible power… It is fading, isn’t it?”
She reached into the pocket of her gown, pulling out a small, intricately folded piece of parchment. It was the same paper upon which the petals of his glowing flower had been drawn. “The Fading. The Anchor Ritual. You said you were ‘out of time’ once. Tell me, Vasco. Tell me the truth before it is too late.” Her eyes, usually so sharp and analytical, were now clouded with a raw, agonizing fear, not for the world, but for *him*.
The ringleader, having observed Vasco’s feat from the sidelines, let out a guttural shriek of fury. “Unbelievable! How could a mere peasant command such power? He mocks us all!” With a final, desperate surge of dark energy, he tore open a small portal leading into the Imperial Palace’s deep catacombs, directly towards the pulsating heart of the Empire’s main Leyline. “This is not over, you wretched anomaly! I will shatter the Nexus Leyline! I will plunge this entire realm into darkness, and then, your precious timer will finally hit zero!”