—— ? ——

  Simon stared at the mannequin in disbelief.

  This crazy-ass tailor.

  Shimmering in the light, surrounded by the flying cloth fanfare, was the most grotesque patchwork set of clothing Simon had ever seen. Despite being sewn together with magnificent skill, the horror was a testament to a sick, macabre fascination.

  It was a faithful recreation of the outfit Simon had stumbled into town in. From a distance, it looked like Emrick had dug up the hopper corpses, asked Jorik for details, then flattened the result into a suit and stitched it together.

  Looking closer, it was almost impressive what Emrick had accomplished. Fur, velvet, and hide were arranged with such precision that the whole thing practically breathed with false life. Crimson threads glimmered like blood caught in moonlight, weaving through the patchwork with an unsettling elegance that both dazzled and repelled.

  From hood to cuffs, the outfit was painstakingly crafted. A grotesque harmony that was equal parts parody and nightmare.

  Simon felt appalled at this recreation of one of his darkest moments. Apparently, Emrick shared his feelings.

  "What do you mean, 'what the fuck is that'? This is art." Emrick huffed, arms still outstretched.

  Simon took a double take of the tailor. “Art?!” his eyes snapped back and forth between Emrick and the bunny suit. “You call this monstrosity art?! It looks like a bunch of corpses strung together to make a cheap Halloween onesie.”

  Emrick scowled at him. “I don’t even know what that means.” He shook his head. “After all the work I put into this, you would think even someone like you could show a little gratitude.”

  Simon stared at the man, mouth agape. “Dude. You can’t be serious.”

  Emrick met his gaze, a fire building behind his eyes. “I am deadly serious. I put an enormous amount of effort into this piece.” He pursed his lips. “What was I thinking? Of course, you wouldn’t appreciate something like this.”

  Simon pointed at the outfit. “That. Is. A. ONESIE!”

  “AND?” Emrick snarled back, matching Simon's volume. “You ungrateful heathen. Weren’t you taught how to accept a gift?!”

  Simon jabbed a finger at the mannequin again. “A onesie! A corpse-stuffed bunny pajama set straight out of a slasher flick!”

  “It is not a onesie!” Emrik thundered. His threads whipped angrily through the air, the whistling strands snapping like an audience booing Simon’s review. “How dare you even think of sleeping in it! It's a work of art! The very essence of a story woven into form!”

  Simon grew quiet as he carefully watched the whipping threads. Arguing with the tailor in a shop full of his razer threads needed to be added to his long list of dumb ideas.

  Emrick sighed, resignation filling his voice. “At least put it on so I can size it and finish my class quest.”

  "You're what now?" Simon stared at the tailor. "Class quest?"

  Emrick gave him an incredulous glare. “Yes. My class quest. Did you think I stitched all this together for fun?” At Simon’s dumb look, realization hit Emrick, and he groaned. “Oh right. You weren’t here for that event. You don’t have a class.”

  He straightened, adopting the air of a patient teacher lecturing a particularly hopeless student

  “The System gives some level of guidance to grow your own skills. Class quests are either from the System if you lack inspiration or from your own pursuits. They are there to help guide you in reaching new heights with your ambitions.”

  “But how does the bunny ones–”

  “ITS NOT A ONESIE” Emrick cut in. “It’s a culmination of a path I have been working on for some time.”

  Emrick's voice grew quiet and dangerous. “So perhaps you could quit bitching about the free armor I’ve gone to extraordinary lengths to construct for you. For the record, Marden nearly had a stroke when he found out I was repurposing these for you. If that makes this any more palatable for your uncultured mind.”

  The room quieted as Simon bit his lip and thought. He examined the bunny-covered mannequin again.

  God, it’s like it's wriggling. Simon cringed as he studied the armour. It really was a perfect recreation based on what people had told him. Hazy memories of the biting cold, and pain surfaced as he partially relived that night. He barely remembered his fight after the first couple of hoppers. His mind had become a world of sharp bone-piercing pain, hot blood, and ice-cold wind whipping at his body.

  If Emrick had done even part of this to spite the asshole healer, maybe that was reason enough to put the damned thing on. But only for a moment.

  Simon let out a long breath, muttering. “Man….” He turned to Emrick. “It’s still a onesie, but I guess I can at least let you size it and finish your stupid quest.”

  A small smile crept onto Emrick’s face. “Brilliant!”

  The clothing leapt off the mannequin and flew towards Simon.

  “Goddamnit, Emrick! I can dress myself!” Simon yelled, instinctively summoning an instrument to defend himself from the overeager tailor. A small pop later and Simon stared dumbly at the kazoo in his hands.

  “Fu—” was all he could get out before the clothing enveloped him.

  —— ? ——

  Spots danced in his vision. His pulse hammered. And for the second time that day, Simon found himself staring in disbelief.

  —- SYSTEM NOTICE—-

  > EQUIPMENT ACQUIRED

  > Absurd Garb of the Lagomoph Slayer - (Masterwork)

  > Tier: Initiate - (Tier 1)

  Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

  > Rarity: Epic

  > Description: A grotesque patchwork forged from the hides of countless Aurora Hoppers by a gifted but eccentric tailor. It is a stitched memory, soaked in desperation, hunger, desire, and the blaze of the aurora. A tale retold in fabric: of a stranger stumbling from the wilderness, cloaked in blood, death, and rebellion. It thrums with the essence of prey and predator alike.

  > Effects

  >> +12 Dexterity, +4 Strength, +4 Charisma, +25% Shadow Resistance, Self Repair I.

  > Features

  >> Aurora Hood: When drawn, the hood sharpens perception and enhances charisma-based intimidation. Aurora’s lingering blaze can charm or terrify foes.

  >> Aurora-Touched Hide: Provides significant resistance to shadow magic.

  >> Hopper-Hide Resilience: The dense layering of hopper pelts grants natural resistance to piercing attacks

  >> Lagomorph’s Rebuke: A last-minute addition of metal filled with resentment allows the garment to absorb the lingering spite of slain lagomorphs, strengthening its enchantments.

  >> Lagomorph’s Resentment: Nearby lagomorph-type creatures (hares, rabbits, hoppers, etc.) are provoked, either fleeing in fear or attacking in reckless rage. Effectiveness amplified against Aurora Hoppers.

  >> Springing Stride: Movement speed increased. Grants enhanced jump height and agility, echoing the essence of the creatures it was made from.

  > Masterwork Property

  >> Story Stitch (Essence-Bound): This garment has captured a fragment of a legend–Simon Starfall’s desperate survival. As its wearer forges new tales, the garb may evolve, weaving future exploits into its fabric. Future enhancements may be further strengthened if its creator reworks or refines the garment.

  > Notes: If worn by the source of the legend, all attributes are enhanced.

  ——————————

  Emrik froze for a heartbeat — then erupted. He whooped, spun in a circle, and his threads shot skyward like fireworks. Bolts of cloth cracked like celebratory whips, ricocheting around the room in a mad dance.

  “Yes! Yes! Do you see it?!” Emrik shouted, nearly knocking over a shelf as he spun past. “It worked! It actually worked! I stitched a story into cloth! Masterwork! HA!”

  Simon stood slack-jawed, staring at the System window still hanging in front of him. He couldn’t even begin to parse everything that this armor had become.

  He turned and stepped toward a full length mirror on the wall. A sinking, soul-crushing realization poured over him ?as he stared.

  Simon was going to have to wear this monstrosity. It had to be one of the most powerful garments in Varnholt. Hell, it might be one of the best pieces of equipment made in this new world.

  As if on cue, Emrik let out another shriek of glee. “A Title?!” He clutched at his chest as if he might burst. “One of the first of the newly Integrated to forge a Masterwork!” His threads lashed outward, rattling the shelves, his laughter echoing like a madman’s.

  “This isn’t just armor, Simon. This is history!”

  Simon’s eye twitched. He dragged his hands down his face, muffling a long, tortured groan. Through his hands he stared at his visage. Every grotesque detail screamed louder now that the glow had faded: the patchwork pelts, the crimson thread, the way the hood hunched like some hungry predator waiting to snap closed.

  Simon’s head thunked against the mirror frame. “And they’ll remember me as the idiot who wore it.”

  “Simon!” Emrik suddenly shouted, eyes wild with excitement. “Try the hood! The hood!”

  A thread snapped in the air, and the hood was tugged down onto Simon’s face.

  The moment the hood settled into place, the world sharpened. The dull glow of lanterns flared into razor detail, every fiber of cloth, every mote of dust in the shop suddenly clear.

  Faint silver threads shimmered through the air, invisible a moment before, humming with quiet resonance. Simon’s vision tunneled, focused, and expanded all at once.

  His heightened vision was treated to the full ensemble of the outfit. Simon groaned and banged his head again.

  “Whyyyyyyyyyyyy……..” he moaned quietly.

  Behind him, Emrik clapped like a delighted child. “Yes! Yes! Look at it! Look at what it does! It’s perfect!”

  Simon looked up at the “perfection” Emrik saw. Aurora-tinged eyes glowed back from the mirror, the hood’s silken weave catching the light and warping it into a faint, otherworldly blaze.

  The bunny-clad Simon sagged his head. “I look like Bugs Bunny the barbarian.”

  Behind him, Emrik’s laughter bubbled out, high and manic. Threads cracked the air like applause as the tailor leaned in close, eyes wild with triumph.

  “Yes… yes! That’s it! A sight no one will ever forget!” Emrik crowed, his voice quivering with delight. “You’ll walk into a room, and every eye will turn. Into battle, and even gods will remember you!”

  Simon moaned.

  “Oh, cheer up, Simon Starfall!” Emrik practically sang, threads whipping overhead in a storm of celebratory ribbons. “Do you not realize what this means? You are walking history now! A walking legend!”

  Simon took a deep breath as he focused. He needed to get over this. This ‘garb’ was honestly astounding.

  He straightened himself and looked into the mirror, his jaw firming with resolve. Several heartbeats passed as he stared.

  Then, from deep in his chest, a rumbling laugh bubbled up.

  “Goddammit, Emrick.” The absurdity of the situation sank in. “It's…. it's… a legendary onesie. You made a masterpiece that looks like pajamas.”

  He turned to Emrick with a grin. “So what do I need to do to keep this magnificent monstrosity?”

  Emrik went very still, eyes wide and glittering. Then his mouth split into the widest grin Simon had ever seen.

  “What do you need to do?” he echoed. “Could you imagine how much people would pay for this?” Emrick gestured towards the garb adorning Simon.

  Simon rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, priceless. You didn’t answer the question.”

  Emrik leaned forward, lowering his voice as though revealing some great secret. “It’s simple, Starfall. You don’t need to do anything. This is a win-win! You get a Masterwork, I get a Title, and the universe gets to remember the name Emrik Velthar!” His threads snapped and fluttered.

  Simon narrowed his eyes, sensing the tailor wasn’t finished. “…But?”

  Emrik’s grin turned sly, a glint of mischief sparking in his pale-blue eyes. “There is one condition…”

  “Knew it.” Simon sighed.

  Emrik tutted. “Oh, come now, it’s nothing major. I just need you to bring it back.”

  Simon’s eyes flicked back to the hovering text, skimming down the glowing lines until he hit the final feature.

  Story Stitch (Essence-Bound)

  His stomach sank. Of course. Of course, this horrifying outfit would be capable of growth. Simon felt that the System itself was snickering at him. A cosmic-levell practical joke. It would grow with him, weaving his victories into the very fabric. Which meant…

  “Oh no,” Simon muttered. “This stupid thing is going to follow me forever.”

  Emrik clapped his hands together, practically giddy. “Exactly! And do you know the best part?”

  Simon turned slowly, dread already pooling in his gut. “…I have a feeling you’re going to tell me.”

  Emrick’s grin was all teeth, his threads dancing around him like excited snakes. “My condition is that I be the first one consulted when this outfit is concerned. I’ll refine it, perfect it, make it greater than before!”

  He winked at Simon. “Of course, I can’t be expected to do this for free. I do have standards after all.”

  Simon stared at him. “So I get to bankroll the cost of everything?”

  “Now you’re getting it!” Emrik rubbed his hands together, manic delight spilling from every word. “This will be the start of a wonderful partnership, Simon Starfall.”

  Simon groaned, looking at his reflection in the mirror — aurora-glowing eyes glaring back from the stitched monstrosity clinging to his frame. “…Kill me now.”

  As if the universe replied, a soft bell rang as the shop doors opened.

  “So, Emrik. This is how you choose to waste your time instead of helping my race regain its heritage.” The words boomed like thunder through the room, a voice that carried the weight of command and cold as the glaciers themselves.

  The celebratory whirl of cloth around Emrik stilled in an instant. His wild grin withered, threads snapping back into rigid order. He didn’t bow. He didn’t flinch. His face hardened into a sour mask, his voice twisting sharp and nasally.

  “Well, well,” Emrik said, each word snapping out. “I see you have yet to learn how to express the etiquette of your station, King Kranofis.”

  —— ? ——

  — AUTHOR NOTICE —

  Thanks for reading!

  ~TheBusyBard

  ——————————