Strawberry's Descent

The manticore had proven more troublesome than the Pink Party's usual bounty work, its tail spines turning the clearing into a constant scramble of repositioning and shouted warnings, forcing the Tank to spend most of the fight absorbing attacks that would have sent any of the others straight back to their respawn point.

"Left!" She raised her shield just before another volley struck, three spines glancing away while a fourth buried itself near the rim.

"Thirty seconds!" the Mage called.

"On what?"

"Your Salmon!"

The Tank risked a glance toward the small status icon at the edge of her vision.

[Enhanced Stamina — 00:27]

She'd almost forgotten about it, too caught up in the fight to track the clock the way she normally did. "Throw me another when it drops!"

The Archer already had a bottle in hand, but the serpent's head at the tip of the manticore's tail reared back and spat a stream of hissing acid across the space between them, and she threw herself sideways instead, rolling clear as the bottle vanished back into her inventory.

"Can't get it to you!"

"Little busy anyway!"

The Tank planted both feet and caught the creature's shoulder against her shield, and for several seconds the clearing became nothing but claws, shouting, and the heavy scrape of boots through dirt. Then her timer hit zero.

[Enhanced Stamina — Expired]

The reserve she'd been leaning on vanished. She caught the next blow on her shield, but her answering shove barely moved the creature.

"Buff's gone!"

"Working on it!"

"Don't!"

The Assassin was already moving, a blur crossing behind the manticore, steel flashing once beneath its rear leg, and the creature stumbled just enough for the Mage's spell to catch it square in the chest. The Archer followed with an arrow through the exposed flank, and the Tank stepped in last, her axe coming down hard. The manticore staggered, tried to turn, then collapsed into the dirt.

For a moment nobody moved. Then the Tank dropped onto the ground beside it.

"I hate manticores."

The Archer laughed breathlessly and walked over with the bottle she'd been trying to pass her the whole fight. "Here."

"Thank you." The Tank reached for it, and the Mage's hand shot out, stopping her halfway.

"Wait. You're still pink."

The Tank looked down at her own hand. The soft pink hue was still there, exactly as strong as it had been during the fight.

"Yeah?"

"Your buff expired."

"So?"

"So the color fades when the buff expires," the Mage said.

The Assassin glanced over while cleaning one of her blades. "Usually within seconds."

The Tank checked her status window. Nothing, no stamina enhancement, no active Pink Salmon effect, no timer. Still pink. "Maybe it's delayed?"

The Archer lowered the fresh bottle she'd been holding out. "Don't drink that yet."

"Why?"

"Because if you drink another one, we won't know whether you've finally broken yourself."

The Mage brightened immediately at that. "Oh."

"I don't like the way you said that," the Tank said.

They waited. One minute passed, then two, and the Tank remained pink. Five minutes later they'd moved away from the manticore's remains and were sitting in the grass. The Mage stared at the Tank like she'd discovered a new species. The Tank rubbed one forearm, then poured water across it from a canteen. Neither made any difference. The Assassin watched with growing interest.

Stolen content alert: this content belongs on NovelPhoenix. Report any occurrences.

"Try your face."

"Why would washing my face fix a potion?"

"It probably won't."

"Then why?"

"I want to know."

The Tank gave her a look, but splashed water across her face anyway. Still pink. The Mage started laughing.

"No."

"What?"

"I think it stuck."

"It doesn't stick."

"Apparently it does."

The Tank opened her character menu and searched through the effect history. "No active cosmetic effect."

"Check consumables," the Archer said.

She did. A long list appeared, Pink Salmon after Pink Salmon after Pink Salmon, and the Tank kept scrolling, the Archer leaning in to watch over her shoulder.

"This is embarrassing."

"How many?"

"I don't know yet." She scrolled further still, until she reached the cumulative entry and stopped, and the others noticed the shift in her expression immediately.

"What?"

"...One hundred."

"One hundred what?" the Mage asked.

"Completed Pink Salmon effects."

"Exactly one hundred?" the Assassin asked, drifting closer to look for herself.

"Exactly."

The Archer pulled up her own history to compare. "Mine says ninety-four."

"Ninety-six," the Mage said, checking hers a moment later, and everyone turned toward the Assassin, who didn't move.

"Well?"

"I don't see how my personal consumption history is relevant."

The Tank narrowed her eyes. "Check."

The Assassin sighed and opened the menu. "...Ninety-one."

"You're last," the Mage grinned.

"I joined the routine later," the Assassin said.

"You hesitated."

"I had legitimate professional concerns."

"You voted yes."

"I continue to stand by that vote."

The Tank looked back at her own total. "One hundred full cycles."

"An hour each," the Archer said. "That's a hundred hours pink."

The other three looked at the Tank, and she looked down at her own hands.

"And apparently that was enough."

The Mage lost it entirely, falling backward into the grass laughing, and the Tank shot her a flat look.

"This is not that funny."

"You drank enough stamina tonic to permanently alter your character!"

"I did it deliberately!"

"You deliberately used the potion. You did not deliberately become permanently pink."

"That distinction feels unnecessarily hostile."

The Archer was laughing now too. The Assassin moved closer.

"Can you change it through appearance settings?"

The Tank tried. "No."

"Dispel?"

"No active effect to dispel."

"Death?"

Everyone looked at her at once, and the Tank's eyes narrowed. "No."

"It would answer the question."

"We've already answered enough questions today."

The Assassin shrugged. "Worth suggesting."

The Tank went back to studying her own hands. They'd gone out of their way to maintain the tint whenever they were online, scheduling bottles around dungeon runs and keeping spare cases in storage, and NPCs had started recognizing the four pink adventurers on sight. Now she wouldn't need the bottles to keep the color at all.

A grin spread across her face. "...I'm permanently Pink Party."

"You were already Pink Party," the Mage said, sitting up.

"No. Before, I was temporarily Pink Party, in one-hour increments."

"That may be the stupidest distinction you've ever made."

"It's an important distinction."

"She's right," the Archer said, pointing.

"Thank you."

"You're still ridiculous."

"Less thank you."

The Assassin glanced down at her own hand, still carrying its temporary soft pink hue. "Ninety-one."

The others turned toward her at once, and she noticed immediately. "No."

"Nine hours," the Mage grinned.

"I know how subtraction works."

"Nine more hours and stealth becomes permanently worse."

"It is already worse."

"Yes, but then you won't be able to blame the potion anymore."

The Assassin considered that. "...I may stop at ninety-nine."

Three heads turned toward her at once, and she sighed. "I said may."

"The vote was unanimous," the Tank reminded her.

"The vote concerned maintaining the party aesthetic. It did not specify permanent dermatological alteration."

"Loophole," the Mage said, pointing accusingly.

"Correct."

"You can't lawyer your way out of being pink."

"I can try."

The Tank laughed and accepted the unopened bottle from the Archer, turning it once in her hand before pausing.

"...Wait. If I'm permanently pink—"

She drank it anyway.

[Enhanced Stamina — 59:59]

Her skin stayed exactly the same shade.

"So the buff still works," the Mage said, leaning closer.

"Looks like it."

The Tank had already opened her message window, and the Assassin noticed. "Who are you telling?"

"Nettle."

"Of course."

[Private Message to: Nettle] "So. Funny story. I think I just discovered what happens after one hundred full Pink Salmon cycles."

The reply came faster than expected.

[Private Message from: Nettle] "Define 'what happens.'"

The Tank grinned before typing her response.

[Private Message to: Nettle] "My hundredth dose wore off, but the color stayed. I waited before taking another. Still pink the whole time."

There was a longer pause before the next message arrived.

[Private Message from: Nettle] "How long did you wait?"

[Private Message to: Nettle] "At least five minutes. No active effect, no timer. The next bottle still gave me the stamina buff."

The next response arrived almost immediately.

[Private Message from: Nettle] "Start from the beginning. I need every detail."

Another message followed before she could even answer the first.

[Private Message from: Nettle] "Also I'm putting this in the marketing."

The Tank laughed at that, and the Mage leaned over to see what had earned the reaction. "What did she say?"

The Tank simply turned the message window toward the rest of them, and the Archer nodded solemnly. "Of course she is."

The Assassin read it twice over the Tank's shoulder, then glanced down at her own remaining nine cycles. "...I have made a terrible mistake."

The Mage immediately put an arm around her shoulders. "A democratic mistake."

"Remove your hand."

"Nine hours."

"I know."

"Eight after the next one."

"I am going to kill you."

The Tank rose, looking at the other three. "...You know you're all doing it too, right?"

"Obviously," the Archer said immediately.

The Mage raised her bottle in agreement, and the Assassin said nothing at all. Everyone looked at her, and she stared back at them for several seconds before sighing.

"...I noted my reservations for the record."