Unchosen Champion

Coop shook the water from his hair, then wiped off his shoulders and flicked his hands dry before he began his approach toward the Avatar of the System and her worm-like companion. Even he would put a bit of effort into his appearance when it came to the Avatar, though in his case, that just meant drying off a bit.

As Coop walked back up the shore, barefoot, shirtless, and covered in bruises, he watched as the tiny alien creature leaned back and forth, like it was dancing to a slow mysterious rhythm. Lyriel seemed mesmerized, gazing sadly at the little alien through her white blindfold, lined with shining gold runes.

Coop couldn’t see her eyes, but there was something about Lyriel that made him assume they would be enchanting, like she embodied the exact elegance and attitude to give off the aura of a fictional elven princess. She was beautiful and commanding, even at a glance.

He knew she leaned into that impression, holding herself up with the posture of a royal, and clothing herself in the kind of fabrics that might be donned by a goddess while leisurely meddling in mortal plights from the heavens. Light itself appeared to soften when it caressed her flawless skin, providing a celestial glow that established a clear separation from her earthly surroundings.

Even gravity seemed hesitant to affect her. She floated above the ground, preventing her toes from touching the sand while her blonde ponytail hovered across her back. The twin sheer white cloths attached to her shoulders swam through the air in such a way that they could easily be mistaken for a set of beatific wings. Were they scarves or capes, maybe sashes, or veils? Coop had no idea, but even by his unsophisticated judgment, her outfit was understated yet majestic.

It was almost offensive that Coop had mistaken the ghastly Icon of Mana, Fatal Reckoning, for a similarly angelic being. Lyriel was on a completely different plane of existence. He’d be sure not to mention that he had considered whether or not the abomination of mana was her before he started fighting. Somehow, he felt like that was a fact better kept to himself.

Coop broke her trance once he got close enough, still dripping from his river bath. “What’s the little worm doing?” He queried, asking about her companion with a gesture. No matter how magisterial she seemed, no amount of refinement could overcome Coop’s nature.

She flicked her head up, like she had forgotten he was there. She stared at him for a moment, unoffended that he clumsily glossed over her pretenses, almost like she had been anticipating his simple lack of grace, but still judging him regardless. After a moment of solemn silence, she spoke, answering his question clearly. “He is weeping.” She stated, golden bangs masking her own expression.

“Huh? Why?” Coop wondered, looking down at its bowing dance. There were no tears, but its large round eyes certainly seemed sad.

“It is the first time in more than 20,000 years that any of his species has touched a planet, felt real gravity, or experienced a natural atmosphere. It is a momentous and sad occasion. This is essentially a mourning ritual for all of those who didn’t make it to the point where they could return, no matter how fleeting his time will be.” She explained.

“Ah…” Coop looked back down. “I see.” Coop mumbled quietly, nodding his head.

Coop had only been really steeped in the struggle for less than six months, so he wouldn’t even try to relate. He understood that they had suffered an impossibly long time, especially considering how much he missed home after just a matter of days. Never being able to go back would be hard enough that he didn’t really want to imagine it.