Returning to No Applause, Only More of the Same

Chapter 39, Family Portrait

That is, if they arent keeping any other weirdly strong guys down in the Other Island George hypothesized, but Kreig quickly shut it down with a shake of his head.

I was alone. I would have known.

George shrugged and continued, though the rest was brief. The fifth such creature had attacked only the other day. A wyrm. According to the reports, its level had been somewhere above 500, though for some reason IOCRO wouldnt give any official statement on it, apart from that the loss of lives was a tragic one, but the wyrm was defeated soundly. Here, Sam poked her nose in, describing in the words of someone who had been there, that people on the internet were discussing if thered been a cover-up. Though most theories were all disregarded as hoaxes, including the one where a person who had allegedly been there said that a prisoner cracked open its skull and set it aflame.

Kreig could feel a sweat coming on. He turned to stare down at the table, hunching his back. The former theory is correct. At least his voice didnt waver, although it was rather quiet.

Both his siblings turned to him, and all of a sudden he just wanted to retreat into himself like a turtle. Is that so? Sam asked, leaning over the table, eyebrow quirked. And you would know how? Met any other high-levelled prisoners down there? Capable of killing that wyrm? Kreig froze, eyes fiercely staring at a certain spot on the wall. His mind went blank. Sam grinned while Georges complexion faltered. Unless, my dear brother You had something to do with it?

Kreig swallowed. Why was he feeling so nervous about admitting this? It wasnt anything strange. Yes. They asked me to kill it. I followed their orders.

If it was the truth, why did he expect outrage?

Sam turned to George. -Makes sense.

George nodded. Yes. Though, now that we know that the strongest Fighter has a level of around 630, I dont see why he couldnt have fought it, or any other high-level individual

It had a level of 700.

That quieted the both of them. ...Seven hundred? Isnt-, isnt that, like, a lot?... Sam said, squinting as she tried to comprehend the number. Kreig just shrugged. Levels werent too important, the real crux of any foe was intelligence and skill. Okay. In other words, you fought a strong thing so they didnt have to use a nuke? ...Kreig supposed that was what happened (God only knew what a nuke was), but he didnt like what happened, either. If Gerald hadnt been there to pull him back out -Good work! Isnt that great?

Her smile was enough to quiet his worries. ...Yes.

Still Although she seemed happy hed killed the wyrm, and although he could understand that killing it was good, he didnt feel good about it. In fact, while trying to tell her that he killed it, hed felt a kind of guilty anxiety he usually only felt while expecting to be a disappointment. Hed expected a scolding. He received praise.

It felt wrong.

And while Kreig devolved into an emotional breakdown fueled by confusion and uncertainty, George stood up, almost entirely unnoticed by both Sam and Kreig, and wandered away. Through the hall and into his room. When he returned and sat down, he did it with a bubble-wrapped packet in hand. Kreig lit up at the sight of it, instantly pulled out of his darkening thoughts.

The hell is that? Sam asked, clearly not in the know about it. Thats why, when George then handed the package to Kreig, she just got more confused.

This chapter upload first at NovelUsb.Com

Kreig ran his hands over it for a moment. Smiled, and handed it to Sam. Thank you.

Sam was just about to hand it back to George when he stopped her. No, no, its a gift for us. Open it, you dingus.

Kreig was too excited to really register the quick banter that flew between his siblings while Sam tore off the bubble wrapping (made out of a material called plastic) and touched the inside. She stopped mid-curse, turning to look at the painting in her hands. Georges tongue stalled equally quickly. Kreig leaned over the table, getting a good look at what he had spent too long to paint.

A simple scene. Painted in warm colours and friendly smiles. Kreig in the middle, wearing regular (peasant, not noble or royal or armour) clothes and a soft smile, with Sam (in a warm pear-green dress) on his left and George in orange on his right. Behind them, a warm fireplace crackled, and all three of them held the faintest smiles on their faces. Although Kreig was too shy to touch them in real life as casually as he did in the painting, there, he had one arm on each of them. They were together.

A family picture. Kreig smiled just glancing at it.

He hadnt dared to so much as put it up in his cell. That wasnt where it deserved to live, that wasnt its home. This, on the other hand? Here, much like how Kreig himself felt, here it was home.

It didnt have a frame. Yet, Sam carefully ran her calloused and hard hands over the edge of it, feeling the organic bumps and ridges in the stale oil, shaping them into life. Its its beautiful. Did you paint this, Kreig? Of course, he nodded. I thank you. George, lets just-, lets put it up now, right away.

George had no words of opposition, merely giving a smile as warm as the paintings glow. He stood up, and within mere moments, the painting sat nailed to the wall, right there in the living room for all to see. Then, he returned to the kitchen table, where only half-a-cake and a pile of bubble-wrap remained. George took the bubble wrap in hand and was just about to throw it out when a hand fell on his. It was Sam. Dude. You are not throwing out unpopped bubble wrap. Its criminal!

He put it back on the table and sat down. I hate to admit youre right.

Kreig had no idea what they meant until George took hold of the bubble wrap and gave one part a squeeze.

Pop!

Sam grinned and followed suit. Pop! Pop!

This went on for a few seconds until Sam turned to Kreig. Kreig. Why arent you popping your bubbles?

Well, if they invite him so cordially. Though, even as he reached out for it and took the odd thing in his hand, he couldnt help but feel afraid. What if he couldnt pop it? What if he was a disappointment to his siblings? He held a bubble between his thumb and forefinger. He just had to squeeze, going by what they did. Just a squeeze. Make it pop.

...It wouldnt pop.

...You can crack the skull of a wyrm but you cant pop a bubble? Sam asked indignantly.

Damn it. He had to prove himself now. Not a lot of strength. If he pressed too hard something bad might happen. And not too weak either. Kreig took a deep breath. Not too strong.

He pressed lightly.

It didnt pop.

It exploded.

The scant air inside the bubble between his fingers escaped with such speed and force that the sound it created was nothing if not a small sonic boom. It didnt cause any damage apart from the eardrums of all members present, merely because Kreig had snuffed it out between his fingers.

George and Sam looked very strange, their hands midway to protect their already damaged ears. Good God Below-,

Despite the immense regret he experienced at failing to pop the bubble, he was still able to heal the both of them to remove any long-term damage.

Collective Catharsis (X)

A warm, reddish glow enveloped all three of them as what little damage had been incurred was healed in a matter of seconds. A few seconds passed. Sam was the first to speak up. Okay, yeah, uh. No bubble wrap. Maybe. And Kreig could only agree. If he just didnt think too hard, he wouldnt use the wrong amount of strength. But he hadnt had to control it for over thirty years before he came to Earth. And now, to suddenly start using the littlest strength possible to do mundane things

It was harder than bisecting a dragon, that was for sure. But hed do it. Hed make sure of it.

After that, the evening concluded rather simply. Sam and George showed him his birth certificate (theyd kept it all these years) and told him theyd introduce him to a computer and phone tomorrow, alongside updating his ID, since he currently didnt have one (theyd lost it in the move). His tutor would arrive the day after tomorrow.

Until then, theyd get him a bit more acquainted with the world. Until then, theyd sleep.

Yes, as the evening grew to night and as the moon rose over the city, George and Sam both decided that enough was enough. Theyd save the rest of the cake for later. They prepared themselves for nighttime, George showed Kreig his pyjamas (theyd bought it specifically for that day, but theyd need his help buying him clothes that fit) and told him to sleep. Usually, Kreig wouldnt sleep at night, but since George told him to do so

He put on the pyjamas and slipped into his new bed. It creaked. But it was larger and softer than the one hed had in his cell.

He fell asleep without any further ado, giving a final look of gratitude at his portrait of the White Pope.

But his night wouldnt be as peaceful as he might have wished.